There is a bald mess of a fella that works with us that thinks he is a bit of a man about town.
They call him Jason Statham
Jayus d’Stateofhim
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A fella from where I grew up was called bambi. Someone asked him one day why are you called bambi?
My mother was shot when I was a baby
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This could also belong in the woeful journalism thread.
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10 to 2, guy who always stands with his feet at 1p to 2,colgate… Cunt with the worst teeth and he’s always smiling… Nice fella though
Brochan O’Reilly starts in goal for Laois Minor Hurlers this evening. He’s named after his father Brochan, a well known former Portlaoise hurler and current referee.
Brochan Sr did a bit of DJ’ing in his time, to which he was given the nickname, Rockin’ Brochan.
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Was hoping you were leading us to Brochan Records
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TNH
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I was just about to post this. Some good replies.
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The Callan posé will confirm but we grew up with a lad whose nickname was Cool because he thought he was cool but, well, was not.
This puts me in mind of a certain Fianna Fáil county councillor from Templederry whose family nickname was Ryan Coole, Coole being the townsland where they were from and all Ryan’s in tipperary have family nicknames.
Anyway, his young lad landed into the CBS in Nenagh as Mattie Ryan Coole and left it as Mattie Uncool.
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Paper Chest. Chap that cycled everywhere used to stick rolled balls of newspaper under his shirt during the winter months.
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Wick.
Because he isn’t the brightest.
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We have an elder statesman who’s always referred to as “ The Prophet McGovern”. It stems from his lifelong habit of following introductions with assorted predictions.
Boxty, how’s the form….It’s going to piss rain - the seniors’ll get bet tonight - John Small will get the jail.
The more I think about it his entire vocabulary is and endless raft of impending disasters.
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There’d be Ryan Cooles round Newport too. Up towards the Clare Glens.
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The unfortunate tale of kitkat Keogh.
A young man from Ballina who’s first foray in fingering a young wan resulted in a wayward digit that earned him the wonderfully alliterated moniker of kitkat keogh.
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The Chaplin’s Ryans
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We had an ould lad called Forty Fucks. Needless to at every second word out of him was Fuck.
Hardly worked a day in his life. Alcoholic and gambler. Pockets always full of money. People used say he had the house sold before he died. Smart enough move in fairness. Liver cancer in the end.
Pothole…
I was coming out of SuperValu when I was practically accosted by the intrepid Pothole McLoughlin.
In about 3 minutes I was updated on the Afghan crises, the C-19 issue ( a fucken’ cod) the impending fate of the club seniors, that bastard Coveney, the search for the next Leitrim manager….
Pothole was compiling a list of those he didn’t want in this prestigious role and realising that the total here would approach 30 I made an excuse and fled.
No swerving Pothole today as when I was driving off I spotted him haranguing another victim.
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