He was shit for the huns
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I used to work in a petrol station close to where she lives. Sheâd come in; get fuel, question the price of a rice cake bar, ask for manager about price of âŹ1:90 rice cake bar. Then go off in a huff. Every. Fucking. Time. And she on 101 different pensions.
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Wtf 
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Not too many petrol stations in that neck of the woods, be careful you donât reveal much more or thereâll be lads from here ringing you in the middle of the night
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Out of it with years now.
Iâll tell ya the story about the day I served Paul Kehoe another day. Now thereâs an absolute fuckin dimwit.
Yeah, id heard all that before but Iâd forgotten a share of it. Some tremendous 18th century shithousery from Charles Ffolliot in fairness. The tour of the Casino is worth doing. Pat Liddy also does occasional walking tours of the area and goes through the whole story.
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to be fair the rice cake bars are a fucking rip off there
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Revolut
I believe so. There was a case taken that established that there is no legal right to a view.
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I had a pleasant conversation yesterday with an elderly farmer out Buxton way. Semi retired but has 300 acres. Did beef and dairy mostly. We had a long chat about farming, pricing, machinery etc.
He told me the farm had been in his family since his great grandfather started renting it of the Duke of Devonshire. Thereâs a fairly well known landmark in Buxton, a crescent of houses named after Devonshire. Itâs apparently where he used to keep 40 horses for the sole purpose of clearing the indigenous people off the land theyâd farmed for generations. Devonshire got hold of tens of thousands of acres in the early 1800s (the farmer told me) by pushing through with his mates a rule that people farming land ( vast swathes of which had no official deeds), had to officially claim right to it, irrespective of how long theyâd been on it. He pinned a decree to the church door saying that people had two weeks to make an official claim, or the land rights would all revert to him. He was well aware that almost all couldnât read. He then seized the land and threw them into destitution.
The farmerâs great grandfather was effectively rack-rented, his grandfather managed to get a more formal and fair rental, and his father managed to purchase the farm in 1964 for ÂŁ8500, âwhich 'e only paid interest on. I 'ad to pay it off myselfâ
The farm only came for sale in 1964 because the then Duke died and his death duty was a million pounds so the family needed money.
The farmer was chair of the parish council years back so had seen all the records.
The English aristocracy were absolute cnuts.
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Youâre not wrong. Oral or folk history like this is invaluable.
The current Duke, the 12th Duke, Peregrine Andrew Morny Cavendish is a very close friend of King Charles and his Queen Consort, Camilla. He possesses vast wealth (in excess of the wealth of the Royal Family) including an art collection worth in excess of ÂŁ1 billion. He also owns Lismore Castle and an estate of more than 8,000 acres in West Waterford and East Cork. He claims ownership of the banks of the Blackwater and its river bed thus preventing boats mooring on the Blackwater as far south as Youghal. Itâs fucking obscene. These cunts never did a days work in their lives and they exist to protect assets they seized centuries ago with the connivance of friendly royals.
The Devonshires were cunts during the famine as well.
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That is just fucking unbelievable.Hopefully Marylou will learn that cunt when she is taoiseach.
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I always feel not enough people know about this resource:
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That looks great
Its brilliant and a simple way of getting an aural history out of an aul lad before its too late.
The British working class or common man was treated just as badly as the Irish were over the years. Obviously the Irish had that added deficiency in their eyes but not to come over all Marxist in my middle age, it really was more a class thing than a nationality thing with them.
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