Possibly not exactly for the roaster thread but where else would it go.
There is a local man in his 60s. He lives on. A decent sized farm in a house with no electricity. He was a substantial cattle dealer once upon a time but his brain is addled from whisky with the last few years.
He is a dangerous cunt. He knows everyone and the feeding and breeding of every family within a 50 mile radius. The guards are terrified of him because he knows where all the bodies are buried. He knows all their dirty secrets, and all their families dirty secrets
Over the last few years he has taken to heading into town at dawn. He wouldnt get a drink anywhere but someone will always buy him a few cans of guinness out of the supermarket. He will then proceed to spend the day sitting on the windowsill of a local business he feels has wronged him and piss and shit on the footpath outside their busienss until the guards come for him. He will shit in the squad car then. This happens 7 days of the week.
He was jailed there recently and within an hiur of landing into Cork prison they had him shipped out to sarsfield court where he was sedated for a few months. Hes back in action again this week though
He has a serious mental health issue but nobody has any sympathy for him because he is such a dangerous cunt.
In the midst of all his madness there a few weeks back he put an ad in the farmers journal. He was selling round bales of silage and the price was good. He sold 300 bales for about 400 quid. Sting in the tale was they wernt his bales. They were belong to a neighbour who was renting his land.
The same man went to Listowel races a few years back. There was a bus going from town and he hopped on and they couldnāt get him off it.
The plan was hatched anyway they would stop in Rockchapel for a pint and when he got off (he couldnāt resist) they would all jump on and leave him behind. The plan worked.
He stood out in the middle of the road with hia crutch then until someone unwittingly stopped and gave him a lift. He would be perfectly able to have a civil conversation with you only he wouldnt be bothered most of the time
He gets back to the races. Ends up on the winners podium with Ml O Leary when wrath of the titans wins the kerry national (o learys old man is a local) and proceeds to get banjaxed drunk around listowel.
Come midnight he convinces a taxi driver to bring hin the 60 miles home. 50 miles into the trip he tells the taxi man he has no money. Guards are called and he is left on the side of the road outside newmarket. Guards pick him up and as sure as night follows day he shits in the back of the squad.
The reason this is in my head is because I was coming up the road there earlier and didnt the cunt walk out in front of me and hit the car a flake of his crutch. This is his crude signal for stop I want a lift home. I nearly killed him in the car. Might be sad to some but there isnt one person who would be lonesome after him.
I have a good roaster friend. Youngest beef farmer in the locality. Sound auld skin and would consider himself shrewd out, but it would be up for debate.
He was looking at a jeep going for handy money in limerick on the buy and sell. He rang yourman anyway and tipped into the Galvone to meet him and see the jeep.
It was an English import and the fella selling it was a settled traveller. This didnāt deter my man as the price was right. They agreed a price and he said to the fella selling it he had to pop to the bank to get the money and would be back in a hour or two.
He had the cash on him but trying to be shrewd he didnāt want to just pull a ball of notes out of the glove box. So he went away and got his lunch and tipped back an hour later to pay for the jeep.
As soon as he handed the seller the cash he took a big sniff of it and says to my friend " that came out of no bank"
Some amount of roasters on flight back from Malaga earlier. Some of them on plane asking about score of Mayo match then when plane landed they switched on some local radio on their phone , really loud . Cunts! Some other bogger in straw hat nearly knocked me trying to get his duty free booze bag. Could they not just fuck off with their Mayo football. As if the rest of the plane wanted to hear it when we landed. Roasters and their duty free Malibu as well. Ignorant fat sunburned hicks
Isnāt that how all the horsey set dress at the races? I was in Killarney for the races last summer, the amount of the horsey set all ādone upā going round the place was hilarious. The cut of them.
