A thread to showcase some original creative writing that is ideally humoursome
Ah jaysus.
Go and post a photo of an old album cover and smear your nostalgia over the screen you cranky cunt.
There’s no need to sulk.
Does the auld yarns thread not cover this?
To start, someone should post Bandages response to Tom Mooney from 2006 on AFR.
@Il Bomber Destro ha already had and posted some cracking ideas in his own thread.
In What setting? The tried and trusted auld apartment block could work. A Munster and Leinster fan in one apartment, and rip the rugger crowd apart through them. KPMG /social media type girls in another apartment and rip the fuck out of all cuntish/ self obsessed modern women. Ra stooler in another apartment. I’m not sure how the main characters should carry themselves yet.
Didn’t @Il Bomber Destro set up a thread for this purpose ages ago?
Whatever became of KPMG Girl?
It needs to be played straight. And dark as fuck. Maybe one lad living in an apartment block who behaves like five different people and adopts every fucking fad while they are losing popularity but he thinks he discovered them.
Paddy Barrett put down his pen, put on his jacket and headed for the door. Pint or home? Pint. No - f**kit - home. Sure you can watch the Champion’s League on the telly. He thought for a second about how odd it was that he always called himself “you” when he was talking to himself and not “I” and then promptly lost the thought when the thought of that ignoramus from Cork, Red Ring, came back into focus. Sod it - I’m not letting that ape get the better of me tonight - and he sat back down and turned on the computer again and composed his thoughts while the pc powered up. Straight into Internet Explorer - Favourites - Gaelsport.com - Forums - The Snug, pull up a Barstool and have some Craic.
I’ll craic that fella’s skull if I ever meet him.
"Red Ring wrote at 17.25 10/7/2007
TippPaddy I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Tipperary were shot when the rules were changed and suddenly the game was about skill and not about dirt.
Don’t take my word for it. Check the records. What have ye won since colour television came in? Three All-Irelands is it? One real one - 1991 when ye beat Kilkenny, I’ll give you that one though it was flukey enough and the two duds when ye beat galway and Antrim. Ye were great at winning when ye could split lads open and poke their eyes out on the field of play (I’ll give you chapter and verse if you like) but as soon as the helmets came in and we had a proper rule book and a bit of video evidence to cut out the off the ball stuff ye’re goose was cooked. Sure, jaysus boy ye went ten years getting beaten out the gate in Munster. The Mighty Tipperary - the Home of Hurling couldn’t win a game for ten years, even Waterford beat ye"
Bits of it were true - bits of it weren’t but the tone really got to him. The arrogance. The pure Cork arrogance. The People’s Republic of Cork arrogance, with their stupid f**king sing song accents and their sh*thole excuse for a city that they insisted on calling The Real Capital of Ireland. But most of it was true and it got to him. He loved Tipperary and his mother and father worshipped the hurlers - the mighty men of Tipp, the Premier County. He was forty three years of age and he remembered his dad throwing him over the turnstile in Croke Park and sitting on his Dad’s lap between being thrown in the air about 15 bloody times when they won the All - Ireland in 1971. He was fairly sure there was colour telly that day anyway but what was the point of arguing that. He did remember his dad buying him an Aztec bar and a bottle of Royal Crown Cola that he drank with a straw. They had a plate of chips in the Mayfair Grill and tea and bread and butter. It was a sunny kind of windy day - Croke Park was black and grey and a bit bleak - it reminded him a bit of the Christian Brother’s school. He remembered the smell of fags and beery wee and the woolly whiff of damp topcoats and tweed caps.
But mostly he remembered the winning and dad as happy as he ever saw him and they singing It’s a Long Way to Tipperary and Slievenamon and even Follow me up to Carlow as they meandered home down to Carrick in the Ford Anglia passing through Kilkenny and rolling down the windows and roaring Up Tipp at startled pedestrians. One of the best days of my life. And then what happens? I’m 25 before they win the bloody thing again and then it was only against Antrim and I knew in my heart of hearts that the hoors in Kilkenny and Cork would take the good out of it. And they did and they’re still doing it.
Feck him
" TippPaddy wrote at 18.31 10/7/2007
Jaysus Red do you ever give give up. I suppose Cork never hit anyone. What about your namesake Ring and the poor Galway lad he split in 1953, Burke was it? And I suppose Cork never endured a famine of their own - no? I don’t seem to remember them being so hot in the 90s when they were reduced to importing hurlers from Carlow just so as they could keep the ball pucked out to the likes of Clare. Carlow - if you don’t mind. "
Sorted.
Back to the home page. Someone had opened a thread on the Simple Minds. A Curates Egg they should have called themselves. He had a lot of the early stuff on the iPod. But some of the later stuff was cruel, when they decided they were stadium rockers. Brutal stuff like Belfast Child.
"TippPaddy wrote at 18.39 10/7/2007
Yeah I got back into a lot of the early stuff when I got the iPod. Downloaded New Gold dreams a few weeks ago. Really great album but my word they went downhill very quickly after that. Glittering Prize is a truly great song. I remember shifting a young wan on the dance floor in the Bridge Hotel to the tune of it many years ago - when most of ye were still in short trousers. Ah the memories."
He liked being one of the old fogies on Gaelsport. He wasn’t the oldest - not by a long way. There was an old lad from Clare who seemed to be about 65, who said he had served in the merchant navy and went under the rather unoriginal name of Merchant Navy and who was as contrary as the days were long but took a liking to Paddy because Paddy liked bringing a picnic on matchdays as well. But Paddy played (riffed even) on being a bit older than most and this gave him a bit of high ground and he never got into trouble with the moderator. Ever. Personally he thought the moderator was a bit of a gobsh*te, but the man was providing a site out of his own back pocket, so what of it.
Back to the forum index. New post. Red Ring.
"Red Ring wrote at 19.01 10/7/2007.
Ah Paddy do I ever give up? I haven’t even started on you yet. And I’m not sure that I should, you poor demented craytur. The best you can do is a fifty four year old incident - never proven. Is that it? Sure it’s nearly the exception that proves the rule. Cork are the cleanest county playing inter county hurling. Fact. And they always were. Another fact. Do you know how long it is since a Corkman was sent off in a championship match? Do you Paddy? Ten years Paddy. That’s some record we have down here by the Lee Paddy. We play it fair. Hard but fair. That’s how we’ve always done it Paddy.
And nice of you to bring up the nineties Paddy when Cork only won two All Irelands. We weren’t happy about that, Paddy and we took steps to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Tell me or is my memory flawed (that’s just a dramatic device Paddy to make you look like a bigger gobdaw than you managed yourself) how many All Ireland’s did ye win yerselves in the nineties Paddy. One - was it Paddy. Ye won one and you’re slagging off the mighty rebels for winning two. Boy, doesn’t that say it all about Tipp.
Me give up? I’d be afraid of what I’d do to you if I started on you. Tell you what Paddy. I’ll do the hurling on this site and you can stick to telling us stories about grabbing young girls arses in the Bridge Hotel. It’s a bit undignified for a baldy middle aged man - but it seems to be all you’re good for.
Go home now Paddy before I do some real damage to you"
AHHHHGGGHHH.
Had to be a pint now.
See. I knew you had something in you you fucker.
That’s an awful chunk of text there @Fagan ODowd, maybe some pictures and colours to keep the Clare folk reading
The Plumber
I once read an article that made the very good point that if you are getting somebody to do any work for you or you are buying something from them that if you have good manners and are warm and friendly you would get a better service.
Good commonsense stuff like make a cup of tea for anybody doing work in your home and meet people with a smile and a good handshake.
The article was fresh in my mind when a few days later I had to find a plumber to fix a leaking radiator and put in a shower. I didn’t know a plumber so googled it and called a plumber. The doorbell rang and I came barreling down the stairs to answer the door. I pulled open the door and in a single motion thrust my hand out for a handshake.
As my hand passed my waist I glanced down and realised the plumber had no hand but a shrivelled claw. Committed as I was to the handshake I couldn’t fucking do a slide of the hand into my hair so I went in. Surprisingly he went in too and we shook hand to claw. His skin was dry I remember thinking, at first.
Not sure how long we stood there as I tried to decide what to do. Like asking a fat girl if she wanted a seat on the train. But worse. Much worse.
“what’s the problem?” he asked.
“eh?”
“where’s the leak?”
My mind was racing, couldn’t think about anything else except the handshake.
I didn’t even query in my head about how unusual a job it was for him to have – given the need to apply torque on a regular basis. So I pointed him up the stairs with my fingers. Fuck.
He had to leave to get some tools and I now had a decision to make. So I did all that I could think of.
I shook hands with him again.Over the next few hours of him coming and going for parts, lunch, coming back I made a point of shaking the claw. It was my way of showing him I was cool with things. Probably shook hands four maybe five times.
The leak came back shortly afterwards. Not sure if any blame attached to the lack of torque a one handed man can apply.
In the end I ended up ringing a different plumber and getting a two handed plumber.
We didn’t shake hands once.
You are turning into a terribly needy cunt, and that’s a fair statement coming from me.
Stick to posting up the results of the online GAA test you took and stay away from me you disgustingly disingenuous tired drug taking shtick @faganodowd fellating whopper cunt.
[QUOTE=“TheUlteriorMotive, post: 1086065, member: 2272”]The Plumber
I once read an article that made the very good point that if you are getting somebody to do any work for you or you are buying something from them that if you have good manners and are warm and friendly you would get a better service.
Good commonsense stuff like make a cup of tea for anybody doing work in your home and meet people with a smile and a good handshake.
The article was fresh in my mind when a few days later I had to find a plumber to fix a leaking radiator and put in a shower. I didn’t know a plumber so googled it and called a plumber. The doorbell rang and I came barreling down the stairs to answer the door. I pulled open the door and in a single motion thrust my hand out for a handshake.
As my hand passed my waist I glanced down and realised the plumber had no hand but a shrivelled claw. Committed as I was to the handshake I couldn’t fucking do a slide of the hand into my hair so I went in. Surprisingly he went in too and we shook hand to claw. His skin was dry I remember thinking, at first.
Not sure how long we stood there as I tried to decide what to do. Like asking a fat girl if she wanted a seat on the train. But worse. Much worse.
“what’s the problem?” he asked.
“eh?”
“where’s the leak?”
My mind was racing, couldn’t think about anything else except the handshake.
I didn’t even query in my head about how unusual a job it was for him to have – given the need to apply torque on a regular basis. So I pointed him up the stairs with my fingers. Fuck.
He had to leave to get some tools and I now had a decision to make. So I did all that I could think of.
I shook hands with him again.Over the next few hours of him coming and going for parts, lunch, coming back I made a point of shaking the claw. It was my way of showing him I was cool with things. Probably shook hands four maybe five times.
The leak came back shortly afterwards. Not sure if any blame attached to the lack of torque a one handed man can apply.
In the end I ended up ringing a different plumber and getting a two handed plumber.
We didn’t shake hands once.[/QUOTE]
What?