Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

When I received a list of the events organised to accompany the forthcoming fleadh and saw that the speakers included that no good beggar from Belturbet, I was reminded of the story about the two fleas pigging out on a piece of shit. One of them farts very resolutely and loudly, causing the other to say: “Ah now, can’t you see I’m eating?”

And then I lookied at the committee and I was reminde of yet another story. A bar in the Texas Panhandle organised a contest where they were offering $1,000 to the guy whose girlfriend or wife’s pussy smelled the worst. A local factory worker jumped on stage and told the MC.
“The money’s as good as mine. Wait till you smell my wife’s pussy.” He went away, returning five minutes’ later pulling a aft and bloated womn by her hair. The MC commented. “My., I can smell her pussy from here.”
“Just you wait”, said the man, as he pushed up her skirt, took down her panties and exposed her pussy. The room wass immediately filled with a truly stomach-wrenching tidal wave of stale urine, sweat, faeces and what could only be described as ten-year-old Thai fish sauce. This was so overpowering that it led to a stampede as members of the audience rushed towards the exists, clambering over those who had fainted and through large pools of vomit. The MC was barely able to remain standing, so powerful was the stench, and he turned to the man with a cheque for $1000 and said |”Okay, no contest. You win hands down. But how do you live with someone with such a smelly pussy?”
“It’s not that bad,” he replies. “ The first three weeks after she died were the worst.”