STUPID and Contagious

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Being Irish for one day

Seeing as yesterday was Paddy’s Day, this Irish guy we know, Murph from Killarney, called round at noon, and via a slurred tirade and the drawing of pictures, encouraged us to get out for “one beer”. In the local Irish bar – where the owner’s Serbian or Russian or something and doesn’t even know where the fuck Ireland is! – called “Mc Carthy’s Craven Claw”

OK, then. One beer with a bunch of drunk lunatics in a Slavic Irish bar with a crazy name won’t be too bad. We can endure this.

Fast forward to 6 hours later. Roykeanz is slumped comatose in the corner of the bar. I’m bent over a putrid toilet, setting free the 12 pints of Guinness with Jameson chasers rapidly consumed earlier. Feeling the earth spin and the ground shake. Seeing horrible hallucinations such as one involving Sarah Palin in a threesome with George Bush Senior and the Nazi Pope!

Some Irish chick hammering the stall door, screaming “Hurry da fook up in dere ya bollox … I need to fookin puuke ….!”

Staggering out of that circle of hell and trying to reach paradise – the safety of the bar exit!

Just inches from the door when Murph and another simian Irish bloke forcibly grab me and before I know it, there’s another double Jammy down my throat!

No escape!

More hours pass, flash by in a blur. Tiny islands of memory in oceans of blank time!

A few fractured memories survive.

Murph grabbing some chav chick’s boobs and getting us into a cafuffle with her beau and a few college football playing friends of his!

Some drunk nasty Irish gals stumbling around, flashing their goodies to anyone who cared. Worst of all, some fat chick called Sinead, who Murph somehow knew, bouncing her giant knockers in our faces shouting “ain’t dem tits sum-ting fookin special lads? It’s yer looky fookin day!”

It wasn’t! It really wasn’t!!

The final circle of hell. Around 7 a.m. today feeling my head about to explode like HR Giger’s alien is stuck inside my skull, fervently, violently and ceaselessly trying to escape out through my eyeballs!

My mouth so parched I feel I’ve eaten a crate of sandpaper! My limbs contorted and aching. My head and stomach spinning scarily fast around the axis of Hades!

My eyes eventually clamber open. A small dirty basement room. Cold light spilling through old torn curtains.

Where the fuck am I? Things surely can’t get any worse!

Who’s that gal snoring beside me?

It looks like that crazy Sinead chick!

A sudden rumbling and she’s strewn across me with all that flesh saying “you weren’t fookin tinking of leavin now, were ya? I’m still as fookin horny as a Wexford hare! C’mere darlinn”

Oh fuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkk!!!

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March 18, 2009 - Posted by | Ireland, _BABE

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