Typical of this government to feck up the one last joy us culchies have, the annual shopping pilgrimage up to the big smoke (which used to be Dublin, now it’s the North!) by having the budget the day after December the eighth. It fecked up the whole experience, as it put the fear of jaysus into anyone that had a few bob in their pockets put aside for presents, as God knows what new tax Lenny was going to land on them to take their hard earned away from them today! As today is D-day; Depression Day when we all find out just how much poorer we are going to be.....

Now I think our government could have been a bit more creative with finding the money to pay off our debts. There are a number of taxes that we believe no one, including the public sector would have a problem with. ....

For instance; the Jedward Tax also known as the talentless tax: All undeserved earnings from total chancers will be taxed at 90 percent. Others that will fall into the category will include The Breffmeister from the pretend Apprentice, and Westlife. ....

The Irish Models Clothes Tax: If Georgia Salpa, Sarah Morrissey, Rosanna or Pippa are seen out and about wearing anything more than a bikini or a Christmas teddy, they will face on the spot fines and be de-clothed immediately. ....

Catholic Church Tax: We want all the money from all the years of collection boxes returned to the people of Ireland after all the lies and shocking behaviour!....

X-Taxter: A fine that will be enforced on anyone seen on the streets making the ‘X’ sign with their arms, talking about Olly Murs singing voice, or doing impressions of Stacey Solomon. In fact, the same tax will apply to anyone caught mentioning or talking in public about any reality TV show! Keep the shame at home!....

And the finally the Tubridy Tax… just because!....

Podge ....

 ....

There was great excitement from the ladies in the pub last night as Apprentice loser the Breffmeister dropped in for a chat. I can’t see it meself as he’s got more than a touch of the Enda Kenny’s off him. Mind you, we had a bit of craic with the fella and you’ve got to admire the little Cork chancer, as he seems to be getting away with murder. I mean who can say on television that a breathalyser would be a great yoke to have with you when you’re drink driving and then end up as the face of drinkaware.ie?? As Mr.Penny Apples himself said, the fella has nine lives! We even gave him a suggestion on how to make a quick buck, by marketing his own ‘Breff-alyser’; which when you blow into it tells you if you’re talking shite or not! Funny fella Karl Spain from the ‘Karl Spain Wants Stuff’ shows also dropped in and we had a great chat about everything from finding a woman to Peruvian jungle fat suckers! But best of all was Sarah Symonds, serial mistress to the stars, who has been ‘the other woman’ to a host of fellas. We couldn’t understand her ‘doing it’ with that ould lad Lord Jeffrey Archer, as that would be kinda like riding Horlicks, but we figured at least Gordon Ramsey would cook you a decent meal after shagging ya, but apparently the most he ever made her was a ham sandwich! We also quizzed her about that infamous Late Late Show appearance when she made a play for Pat the Plank, claiming that he was exactly her type and that ‘Monogamy makes for Monotony’ Surely, she meant ‘Mahogany’?....

She seemed to have the inside line on Tiger Woods and all the ‘holes in wans’ he’s been having lately. It was fascinating hearing it from the mistress’s side, and how she claimed that mistresses often save marriages. Mind you, I don’t think Mrs. Woods was thinking of renewing her vows after she lashed a nine iron into the back of Tiger’s head. As she said herself, there’s always three sides to an infidelity story, mind you, in Tigers case there’s eight and counting!....

Rodge....

I don’t know how much more we Irish can take; the unending recession, half the country floating out to sea, the Church have buggered it up (excuse the phrase) Jedward’s light has already started to flicker and more strikes are looming; and then to top it all the rest of the world are now laughing at us. Blatt and his FIFA buddies were pissing themselves at our expense this week as we begged to be allowed in as the 33^rd team in the World Cup. They were feckin’ laughing at us! How long will our country’s run of bad luck continue, I mean what’s coming next to kick us when we’re already down? Oh, how about the most ferocious budget in the history of the State to ruin your Christmas? The upcoming budget will be so bad it would make Robert Mugabe quake in his boots. ....

Never mind trying to tag ourselves onto the arse end of the World Cup, we should take John Delany’s idea and run with it on a much bigger scale. ....

Before we completely go under I think it’s time that we should get onto the Moneygall President and ask him if we could become the 51^st State of the U.S.A. Of course we’d be giving up our pride and independence, but there are upsides to being an American. We’d all get to drive big fat cars down the wrong side of the road, having Hooters titty bars in every town, every man, woman and child could be armed. We get to ship off all the skangers, boy racers and general ne’er do wells to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. We could have great craic with the Death Penalty; perhaps TV 3 could make a reality TV show starring Keith Duffy as the hangman and Dustin the Turkey could host the Hangman Xtra show? Another eight hundred years of oppression or the eight hundred years of recession we’re heading into? It’s your choice; “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what America can do for us!”....

Podge ....

 ....

We had great craic in the Stickit Inn last night with some great guests altogether. Not one, but two boxing legends dropped in for a chat. The Jedward of the ring; Michael Carruth and Kenny Egan. Kenny was sporting a tash in aid of the Movember charity; but in a classic boxer moment he thought there were thirty-one days in November and everyone else had shaved their tash off the day before. So for twenty-four hours Kenny was walking around looking like a gay porn star! We also had funny man Rowland Rivron from the English telly drop by for a pint and a singsong with Buster Bloodvessel from Bad Manners. But our favourite guest of the night had to be sexpert Tracey Cox, the most appropriately named sex therapist in the world. Since when was in we took the opportunity to finally get a straight answer on some of Ireland’s most famous sex myths that have been doing the rounds for the last hundred years. And here are the results:....

1.Do you get warts or go blind from masturbating?....

The answer is ‘no’, in fact having a fiddle is recommended as a recession beater!....

2. Women who have sex before marriage grow teeth in....

their fannies?....

Apparently not!....

3. A cabbage leaf down the front of your underpants....

will stop a fella getting aroused.....

Tracey reckoned that it would work in reverse, as the rough cabbage leaf would cause some friction in your jocks.....

4. You can't get pregnant if you do it standing up.....

Who’d have thought it, but you can!....

5 Black fellas have bigger willies.....

It’s true!....

And the all-important final Irish sex myth perpetuated by the nuns; Can you catch babies off public toilet seats?....

No, you can’t.....

I learned a lot off Tracey last night, and no longer should any Irish man be afraid to ask a woman for a hand when it comes to sex!....

Rodge....

The recession, the strikes, the handballing frogs, the Jedwards getting the boot, the budget round the corner, so the last thing we needed was the floods. Some would take that as a sign to build an ark and set sail for Van Diemens land and be done with this country once and for all, but not us Ballydung boys. We always look for the silver lining in a disaster zone, pieces of silver that is. Yes, we bought twenty ton of sand five years ago and got in touch with one of them Chinese sweat shops and got the kids to sew us up fifty thousand sandbags. And when the rains struck we sold them to the sodden locals for two Euro each and made a tidy profit. ....

The new Ireland y’see will be built by the new breed of entrepreneurs and devious bastards like ourselves. We don’t need big loans from banks or approval ratings; no we just need natural disasters or some good timing. Of course the master of making something out of nothing has to be Louis Walsh, who has actually managed to make something out of two nothings. In some kind of stroke of genius, he turned a pair of haircuts into a bankable sensation. Whilst the rest of yis will be scrimping and saving, Louis be making zillions out of thin air ‘cause let’s be honest that’s all that’s between those fella’s haircuts. Everyone knows they can’t sing, they can’t dance, they can barely string a sentence together, but devious Louis has somehow managed to make them into superstars. And you’ve got to admire that. In these credit crunch times he’s mopping up the cash. Our sandbag trick is mere child’s play compared to Louis’ masterstrokes. Forget your Bill Cullen and his Apprentices, look at Louis’ apprentices; Boyzone, Westlife and now Jedward, all equally talentless Irish haircuts, all turned in to multi million Euro making industries that will ride through this recession. ....

Podge ....

 ....

The Stickit Inn was hoping last night as with some great guests. Former Miss World Rosanna Davison came in to deny her boob job, not to talk about her boyfriend Wesley Quirke, but it’s always a pleasure when she drops by, ‘cause we get to slag her Da. Bay City Roller legend Les McKeown shang-a-langed us all with one of their classics ‘Bye Bye Baby’ and we chatted about him outing his gay self on TV to his wife of twenty years. He’s been through the mill, that fella, but at least he’s still standing and can belt out the tartan army anthems. Then we had good ould chinwag with Big Brother by-product Preston, who unlike the usual Big Brother casualties was actually great craic and not one bit up his own arse like he used to be. We were quite interested to see if we could make him storm off like he famously did on ‘The Don’t mind the Buzzcocks Show’ after yer man Simon started reading from his ex-missus and fellow BB bimbo Chantelle’s memoirs. Speaking of storm offs, what the hell happened to Jordan of the Jungle? One minute she’s eating cockroaches like they’re going out of fashion, the next thing we know she’s bailed. The torturing of Katie Price was the one and only reason to tune into that show. Now we’re left with no totty at all; a scrubber, a dullard and an old Fox. In years gone by that was the show to watch, now it’s gotten boring. Perhaps it’s one kangaroo testicle too much. And I hate to admit it but without Jedward what’s the point in tuning into X Factor either. They were one step away from wearing Leprechaun outfits, but at least you could tune in to hate them. But now that it’s back to an actual talent contest, it’s just boring. Y’see without the freaks and and enhanced boobs; reality TV gets too real and real is boring!....

Rodge....

 ....

I still can’t come to terms with the fact that the people of Eire were debating - no, fighting - over what to watch last Saturday night. Over 400,000 still tuned in to watch a pair of smurfs screech their way though a Queen classic instead of supporting their National team attempt to get into the World Cup. What has gone wrong with this country? I mean it’s bad enough that we’re in the middle of a recession; record job losses, bastard bank bailouts and a budget on the way that even Scrooge himself would balk at, but now we have the people of the country turning their back on their National football team when they need our support the most. If Jack Charlton was dead, he’d be turning in his grave! Does the ancient Celtic warrior chant of “Ole, Ole, Ole” mean nothing to you?! ....

Tonight is it folks, if the lads in Green don’t win, the dream will be over and that trip to South Africa won’t be happening after all. This is real life do or die, not the contrived panto of the X-Factor. There’ll be no Sunday night deadlock public vote where our boys in Green will be stood on one side of the stage with Louis Walsh by their side, whilst the Frogs are all gathered around Simon Scowl as the numbers come in. Unlike Jedward the boys in green aren’t going aren’t going to get through on sympathy votes or cute haircuts, this Paris showdown is all about talent and goal scoring. Do our boys have the F-Factor? Well, we’ll find out tonight. So please people of Ireland, unlike last Saturday night, can we all get it together for one last rally and like the good old days of Italia 90, will the boys on with the strength of our support and good vibes? And then you can get back to your beloved Jedward. Ireland’s next Carter Twins. Remember them? I didn’t think so.....

Podge ....

 ....

We had great craic last night in the Stickit Inn as we’ve dumped the quiz show and got back to the chat. Besides, the rats in the cellar had eaten through our star prize of a cooked chicken. In the bar were none other than Irish page 3 stunner Claire Tully who dropped in to present us with her 2010 dirty calendar, PJ Gallagher told us about his new TV show called PJ’s Big Ride (and don’t worry it’s all about motorbikes and him falling off them at high speeds). It wasn’t intended to be a comedy show, but it’s hard not to laugh when the little gobshite comes round a bend at eighty miles and hour and goes skidding on his arse! And since we were back doing what we do best it was a real pleasure to have a bit of banter with Australia’s bawdiest balladeer Kevin ‘Bloody’ Wilson. He was great craic altogether and when we asked him what sort of welcome we would get down under if we up’d sticks and moved to Oz, he said we’d get a great welcome as theres a real shortage of gay bars! ....

We let him away with that one! Even his daughter, wait for it, Jenny Talia was with him on the night and agreed to get a sing song going in the bar. And, yes, she is as filthy as he is. I think I’ll be heading up to Vicar Street at the end of the month for some craic from Down Under. Speaking of Down Under; ‘I’m a Celebrity… Make Me Eat Kangaroo Testicles’ is back. But I’m not sure if I’m going to bother with it. I mean, that’s a prime time five night a week show and they’ve got even worst guests than we get! Maybe Podge is right; half of the country is watching Jordan’s tits and the other half are watching a pair of tits on the X-Factor and we’ve all taken the eye off the ball. Come on Ireland win the feckin’ thing tonight and give us some ‘real’ reality TV!....

Rodge....

 ....

So Brian Cowen is backing Jedward now. What I want to know is what the hell is he doing watching X Factor? Shouldn’t he be spending every waking hour trying to steer this country away from the iceberg? Whilst he’s wiggling his big arse to The Grimes crappy little ‘Ghostbusters’ routine, shouldn’t he be having a one to one with the I.N.O and Teachers’ Union to try and avoid all out disruption on the 24^th of this month? Instead of sitting down with a TV dinner and wondering why Cheryl isn’t wearing her wedding ring anymore, screaming at Simon’s cruel comments and cringing when Louis gave the audience the fingers, he should be having endless meetings with the unions so that come December 6^th the country doesn’t entirely grind to a halt. And besides, the last thing that the squawking twins need is the backing of a Taoiseach who, based on his own performance wouldn’t get passed the auditions. ....

“Are you so naive to really think that you have what it takes to run a country?” Cowell would shout as Brian bursts into tears, throws down the mic and runs off the stage. Backstage we’d catch up with Dermot O’Leary who would put his arm around Cowen to comfort him, “I was doing my best to not feck up the country, I didn’t even get the opportunity to show them my NAMA routine where I magically disappear all the bad debt” he would sob as it dawns on poor Brian that he doesn’t have the X Factor, the Y Factor or even the Z Factor. It’s a hard lesson, but like all these wannabe’s Cowen will be back in the line up again next year, plying some other mad routine to try and get the people to vote for him. ....

Actually now that you think about it, wouldn’t Jedward probably do a better job at running the country?....

Podge ....

 ....

We had two lovely ladies in the Stickit Inn last night in the shape of models from different eras. Lovely leggy, noughties tabloid-favourite, Pippa O’Connor, and 1980’s Page 3 stunna, now bona fide actress and still a boner-fide ride, Linda Lusardi. I have to say, Linda still has it, and could give any of those young ones a run for their money. And I for one would pay good money to see that race! Luckily Pippa’s other half, man-child Brian Ormonde didn’t show up. Presumably it was way past his bedtime being a school night. We also had one-time rocker turned easy-listening geriatric Gerry Fish in the Inn, and funny-fella Brendan O’Carroll, who wouldn’t stop plugging Mrs Brown’s Box. I can tell you one thing, I’ve seen that Mrs Brown, and you wouldn’t catch me plugging her wibbly wobbly box. We’d a bit of a lock in afterwards (the pros of running your own pub!) and we tried to get Linda to teach Pippa how to do a proper page 3 pose, but the girls were having none of it.....

Jedward mania seems to have hit a high everyone on the planet now talking about the boys from Lucan. But what’s going to happen when the game’s up for them? The two lads have managed to detract from the misery of the recession. They’ve taken the headlines away from the Unions, strike threats, the budget and the gloominess in general. God help us all when they finally get kicked off the show and we’ve to go back to reality. Jedward are the real life version of nitrous oxide; kinda sickly to take, but a few blasts and you’re in a different world! A bit like the emergency procedures booklet the government sent to every house a while ago, they are going to have to deliver an emergency Jedward leaflet to every door for when the inevitable happens….just so we’re all prepared for the real world when it kicks back in! ....

 ....

Rodge....

Just when we were told that there are no jobs left in this country, good old Brian Lenihan puts an ad in the paper for seven new ones. Yes, readers, I think I’ll apply for a job with NAMA. Sure why not? I’m as qualified as anyone in this country. Sure all them top brass tossers, ex-bankers and property moguls have made such a hames of things it’s the likes of me that might actually get the job! I definitely fill the criteria they’re looking for. Let’s have a look at my CV as they are looking for people with experience in a number of key areas.....

1.   Finance: I believe my savvy approach to personal finance has paid dividends by avoiding the advice of every economist and institution in the country. I made no losses during the crash as the Bank of Podge (aka, under the mattress) kept my cash investment safe. The only thing toxic about my bank is the 65 years of sweat that’s seeped through the mattress.....

2.   Law: My experience dealing with law is second to none as I’ve been up in court more times than the McCarthy Dundons for every misdemeanour known to man.....

3.   Accounting: I’d be up there with the best of them; cooking the books, shafting the taxman and claiming for every disability and benefit available. I am the proud record holder of the highest payout for Army deafness and I’ve never been a member of so much as the FCA.....

4.   Property: I’ve had years of experience managing property, mainly Ballydung manor, which I successfully sold to the North Koreans as a nuclear waste storage site in the worst property sales year ever, and invested the money in a successful business; The Stickit Inn pub, Ballydung main street. Alco Pops all 1Euro every weekend!....

So there ya have it Brian Lenihan, you’re first appointment to the board of NAMA right here. We’ll be the magnificent seven; call me Toxic Podge!....

Podge ....

 ....

As you know business is slow in the bars these days, especially at weekends as most people are at home shouting at Jedward on the television and not bothering to come out for a pint anymore.  So like Toxic Podge, I’m considering making a few bob outside of the bar by jumping on the latest bandwagon; holy apparitions! It all started with the stump in Rathkeale and then last weekend tens of thousands followed Holy Joe Coleman to Knock hoping for an apparition. Now, I’m not planning on rivalling the Derek Accorah of Ballyfermot, I’m just going to ride on his coattails and make a few extra bob at his forthcoming gigs, selling Holy toasties and Virgin shakes to the Mary chasers. You’ve got to be inventive to make a shilling these days. I’m determined to get in on the Holy Euro before someone like Simon Cowell snaps up the franchise and does ‘Cross’ Factor, and puts it on the telly. He’ll get together a team of priests on the panel with him to discover Irelands most impressive clairvoyant. ....

“I’m sorry, but I just wasn’t convinced by your apparition of baby Jesus. You won’t be going through, goodbye!” Cowell would claim. ....

Speaking of visions, our barmaid Gina couldn’t have worn less if she was naked this week on the show. I think she was feeling the competition as Kenny Everett’s sidekick Cleo Rocos was on the show. She has a fine set of ‘chesticles’ as she calls them herself! We also had a visit from Curly from Corrie and Biddy from Glenroe. It was great to hear that Curly’s going back to Corrie, but when are RTE going to bring back Glenroe? That would surely put an end to people moaning about their license fees. ....

And I’ve an idea how they could do it, keeping it topical and the like. How about Biddy returning from the grave as an apparition that Psychic Miley (who has become clairvoyant) sees up the backfield. All the cast return to witness the Holy Biddy and Glenroe becomes the new Knock. And if you think that’s a crazy storyline, just look what’s happening in real life.....

Rodge....

 ....

It’s one of those weeks that those poxy ‘statistics’ show is one of the most depressing of the year. Apparently it’s to do with the nights starting to get longer and folk worrying about Christmas costs. Two things: one, who the hell is paid to come up with this shite? They’re always the same - I could tell you no one likes dark nights, January is a depressing month and everyone hates Mondays. Sure Bob Geldof wrote the statistic on that one years ago. Two: it doesn’t matter what day, month or week of the year you pick anymore, they’re all as depressing as each other in a recession. And the thing about the hour going back is, with most people unemployed at the moment, you can set your clock to any feckin’ time you like! It’s not like you have to be anywhere. The one good thing about it now that I’m a publican, is that we got in an extra hour’s drinking last weekend. I’m thinking of making it a regular thing; putting the clocks back an hour every Saturday night. Eventually it’ll work out that it’s dark all day and then my punters will have the daylight to stumble home in at 3 o’clock in the morning! I tried to explain it to Rodge, but he thought his head might explode. Like the time he tried to watch the Matrix. Not that the government want any of us rural pubs to survive with their new drink driving plans anyway, the killjoys. It’s all well and good for them with their drivers ferrying them everywhere. The other thing pissing me off this week is the build up to Halloween. Usually I put a sign up on the door telling kids that unless they want a trick they’ll remember for all the wrong reasons, they had better not knock on my door, the begging little so and sos. But this year, I’ve mellowed a bit. Must be the absinth. So I’ve put together a little leaflet for all the kids called the Podge Youth Pamphlet, and tied them on to out-of-date packets of peanuts from the bar. So each kiddie who calls to the Stickit Inn this Saturday night won’t go home empty handed. What does the leaflet say? Just some essential advice for the future - that there’ll be no jobs for them when they grow up, they’ll probably inherit nothing but bad debt, and they may as well get used to being badly dressed and knocking on doors looking for free food. Halloween is like a FAS training course when you think about it!....

 ....

Podge....

Me head’s still sore after the inaugural opening night of our new bar The Stickit Inn. The RTE TV cameras plugged into the mains, and filmed our first ever pub quiz night. Dublin legal ponce Gerald Keane and his tittytastic girlfriend Lisa Murphy were pitted against even tittier-tastic Amanda Brunker and T na Gee fanny magnet Daithi O’Se. Up for grabs was our star prize; a tin of USA biscuits, and by God the competition was fierce to get their hands on the chocolate rings! We decided to give the couples some catchy team name combinations, like all the famous couples have; Tom Cruise and Katy Holmes are known as Tomkat, Brad and Angelina are Brangelina and Miley and Biddy are Biley. So Gerald and Lisa became Team Geesa and Amanda and Daithi were Team Drunker (and as the evening progressed the name certainly fitted!) ....

We had some great rounds to suit everybody including our ‘Touch it, Feel it, Lick it, Suck it’ round were the teams have to guess what their mystery object is. Last night there was the Comfort Wipe, a device for fat people to wipe their distant holes with. Then there was ‘Nob or Normal’ where we were surprised that Team Geesa knew how much a litre of milk was, in fact we were impressed that they actually knew what ‘milk’ was as we assumed they wouldn’t know what that white fluid was that their manservant put into their Crapachino’s. The most disturbing part of the quiz was the ‘Sex –a-sketch’ challenge where the team members had to draw their favourite sexual positions and then reveal to see if they were compatible. Lisa was quite shocked to see Gerald leaping on top of her from a cupboard with an eight foot wanger hanging off him and Daithi and Brunker were spookily compatible as he drew himself at it in a train jacks in Clara station whilst she drew herself doing it on an aeroplane. It was a cracking first night and first show, but my head is started to throb so I’ll hand you over the brother for more first night insight.....

Podge....

 ....

I don’t know why Podge left me to fill ya in on the rest of the goings on in the Stickit Inn opening night as I’m bollixed tired and only after locking the door behind the last of the drunken stragglers. I just looked in on the jacks and it looks like Main Street, Gaza Strip! I’ll have to get the power hose at it!....

Anyway the brother has filled ya in on most of the quiz, the other rounds included were ‘Whose Skin and Blister’ where they had to guess a young one’s famous sister. We had a visit from none other than Sophie Price aka. Jordan’s sister who was a bit of a looker herself, but with only 10% of the bappage of her famous silicone sis. Actually there was a point during that round that I was almost overwhelmed by a boob haze! There was Brunker’s enormous funbags propped up on the table, Jordan’s sis, the amply endowed Lisa Murphy and our busty barmaid Double G Gina. There were so many semis from the male punters in the bar that the tables didn’t need legs! After the ‘Wank you for the Musak’ round it was down to the wire with a quick fire frenzy before last orders were called and Team Geesa won the biscuits, leaving Brunker and O’Se having to forfeit all dignity by singing us out in Karaoke style. This week’s tune was ‘Pokerface’ rewritten as a fitting tribute to Subo (Susan Boyle), entitled ‘Mow her face’.....

Gina, our new barmaid was quite reluctant when she heard there was going to be a camera crew filming quiz night, but since we have her passport she had to play along. There’s something more to her than meets the eye, Podge reckons she could be on the run and every time I decide to confront her about it, I get distracted by her enormous cleavage. I’d say we’ll be finding out more about her mysterious Sicilian background and possible Mafia connections as the weeks go…sorry, where was I? I was thinking of her boobs again!....

So now that we’re all ratified with our European neighbours in Lisbon does that mean that we can get rid of some of the rats scurrying around our capital? Like the rest of yis I was shocked, but hardly surprised to hear yet another expenses scandal. I remember when our politicians were all tut tutting when the MP’s across the pond last year were caught using public money to clean their moats and others keeping illegal immigrant housekeepers locked up in their basement. But of course it was only a matter of time when our lot would catch up and outdo their Brit counterparts. Our very own Clown Comhairle John ‘five star’ O’Donoghue, a man who was above politics, and now it seems, thinks of himself above us all. From the tally of outrageous expense claims, it looks like John thought he was Donald feckin’ Trump, not a public servant. He was so far up his own golden hole that he thought nothing of the taxpayer chipping in to pay, not only for him, but for his missus to travel the world, first class of course, and dine in the fanciest restaurants and stay in the swankiest hotels on offer.....

 “Can I book a limo to take me from my room to the foyer?” he’d say, “Why certainly Maharajah O’Donoghue”....

“I need to fly back to Kerry from Cannes for a proper pint of the black stuff and then onto Cardiff for a rugger match, then to Cheltenham for the gee gees and then back to Cannes again? he’d request, “No problemo, Commandante O’Donoghue!”....

“Can I hire a chimpanzee to wipe my hole?” he’d bark, “Certainly Sir John”.....

Yes, he’s been living it up at our expense but it’s finally hit the fan, and it looks like it’s death by a thousand limousines for our in-Sultan of Kerry.  I doubt he’s too worried though, as he’s already seen how the government has dealt with FAS freeloader, Sheik Rody Molloy. His punishment; a nice pension and a golden handshake! ....

Podge....

 ....

Unlike the politicians who can get us taxpayers to pay for their gifts to each other (and their families!) the rest of us will have think long and hard about what on earth we’re going to do this Christmas. That’s right readers, the shops are already optimistically stocked with shelves full of festive shite to tempt ya! But this is no ordinary Christmas, it looks like it’s going to be a Blue Christmas, what with the recession and all. Only a year or ago the kids were writing to Santy looking for jPods, XFoxes and Wee’s. Parents dropping thousands to keep the little brats happy for at least five minutes, but that’s all changed. We now live in recession Ireland where teachers are now asking kids to bring in their own jacks roll! The toughest lesson that the ‘children who had everything’ are going to learn is that they now can’t have everything! I can see Santy’s sack this year tightening up as parents with empty pockets will have to go back to more traditional toys (‘traditional’ meaning cheap as chips!) Can you imagine little Clayton’s face when instead of the Jonas Brothers Pix Micro digital camera he was expecting, he gets the Guinness Book of Records. What will little Francesca do when she unwraps what she thought would be a High School Musical 3 dance mat only to find a nice knitted jumper with her initials on it! ....

It’d be nice to see the children of Ireland out and about again, getting some fresh air, kicking a football around, doing the hula hoop, riding a second hand bike, playing with clackers, bouncing a paddle ball around or doing tricks with a Yo Yo. ....

They might scream and scream and scream, and the revolting tiger cubs, will start revolting, but perhaps, in the long run, the little bastard’s will be better for it! ....