Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

A view of the world from an Irish hole

Category: Sport

Royal visit to Ballyjamesduff

Many people in Ireland have longed for an opportunity to express their long-suppressed loyalty to the British Crown. They have watched, almost with baited breaths, at such moments of joy as the silver and golden jubilee and various royal weddings, not to mention those episodes of incredible pathos and heartbreak as the funeral of Princess Diana. However, now with the advent of the visit by Her Majesty to Ireland, Irish people of all creeds will be able to cheer with gusto as they exclaim “God Bless you Queen Elizabeth!”

 For too long our two countries have been divided by antagonisms which have often been mischievously amplified by people in Ireland. The forthcoming royal visit is an opportunity to turn the swords of the past into the ploughshares of the present and the scythes of the future, with which future generations can reap a bountiful harvest of goodwill and renewed dependency on our bigger neighbour.

 Those in Cavan will be especially pleased to hear that their local authority, Cavan County Council, had been working flat out behind the4 scenes to see to it that The Queen visited “The Lakeland County” and that she is given, along with the Duke of Edinburgh, an opportunity to fulfil a long-held ambition.

 It is not generally known but Queen Elizabeth had planned to make a visit to Cavan County Museum during her visit. Both she and Prince Philip were anxious to look at the museum’s unique collection of Gaelic football boots and assorted Cavan GAA memorabilia. A source close to the royal family has stated that each time anyone mentions the memorable victory of Cavan over Kerry in New York’s Polo Grounds her mind goes back to the year 1947 and the royal wedding of that year.

 It has now emerged that her visit to the museum has had to be cancelled because of an old problem in the museum: the lavatories. In spite of having a plumber’s son on staff for a number of years the museum’s toilets have a nasty habit of exploding for no reason and shooting their contents over a wide area.  It was thought this was caused by attempts to flush down diapers, tampons used condoms and certainly the problem seemed to have been resolved by a number of low-key redundancies disguised as budget cuts. Unfortunately the overflowing lavatories have returned with a vengeance, with fateful results.  

 A County Council engineer explained.

 “It would be the very day her Majesty would be comin’ that the hoors would blow up again like yan Icelandic volcano, an’ ya can get the whiff of the shite for miles an’ miles. I wouldn’t be surprised if ya got it up in a ‘plane. An’ when that happens the last thing ya want is t’ have the quain of England cuntin’ around lookin’ to go to the jacks.”

 Some in Cavan had hoped that The Queen, given her interest in Gaelic Games, would have an opportunity to present the Anglo-Celt cup to a successful Cavan team, but this can’t happen now after the Cavan team threw up their arses down in Cork last weekend – four shagging points; Jesus the North Koreans would have done better.

 Anglo Celt and The Beano please copy

Dr Brendan Scott’s talk or lecture (or whatever it’s called) to be given at the forthcoming Flea in Cavan

This gay guy called Jack decided to go for a tattoo. On the way in he sees a poster of Evander Hollyfield, and he exclaims to the tattoo artis. “He’s my idol. Can you tattoo his face onto my left buttock?”
“No problem”, replies the artist.
On leaving he sees another poster, this time featuring Mike Tyson and he runs back into the shop and pleads with the tattoo artist. “I just love Mike Tyson. Could you possibly tattoo his face onto my other buttock? It will really drive my partner wild.”
“it’s your money”, answers the tattoo artist.
When Jack gets home he can’t wai to show off his new tattoos to his partner Brendan, so he drops his pants and bends over so that Brendan can get a look, but instead of being pleased he is nearly in tears.
“I hope Jack you realise that this means the end of our relationship”  he sobs.
“Why?” pleads a dumbfounded Jack.
“Well you’ve got Evander Hollyfield on your left cheek, Mike Tyson on your right cheek. You can’t expect me to go into the ring between those two.”

The persona names used in these and other jokes are entirely fortuitous.

Felicidades al equipo de Paraguay!

Mi corazon esta pleno del alegria. El Paraguay ha ganado. Mi gustan mucho los Paraguayos. Una vez El Presidente del Republica fue obispo. Espero que los Paraguayos perdonen a los Irelandes. Eliza Lynch no fue Irlandesa – era rubia y todos las mujeres Irelandesas son pelirrojas.

We wus robbed

Like any Irish person I was dismayed by the events in the Stade de France. Pride in the land of my birth made me want to see the Boys in Green qualify for the world cup. It is dreadful to see hard work and talent and commitment rewarded with failure.

 I know that if the Irish team had qualified for South Africa, every scumbag government minister would fly out at public expense to cheer on the lads on our behalf, though they’d never asked us beforehand. What’s more, unlike most Irish fans, they would stay in the plushest accommodation. Neither would I be surprised if delegations of county councillors did not escape to the sun, maybe because of some tenuous links between one of the players and their county. They would justify their junkets as “supporting a local lad” or some other trite shite, and those who would look askance at their larceny would be denounced as party-pooping begrudgers.

 I believe that the goal scored by Thierry Henry, in spite of handling the ball, should be looked at in an Irish context. Here was the committed, talented team who had played their hearts out for ages, and who were much better than their opponents one of whom scored a decisive goal even though this violated the rules. These ought to have been observed and enforced by the referee – that’s what he’s there for, but instead he didn’t notice the fault because he was looking the other way, or had his head up his arse, or because he was related to the wrong-doer, or maybe because he was at mass… Whatever the reason, the result stands in defiance of the rules and the spirit of fair play and justice which inspired them. In this regard I see the events of last night as a metaphor for so much of what goes on in contemporary Ireland.

Hey Bobby, what's the French for 'cute hoor'?

True courage

The decision by Donal Og Cusack to admit to being gay is a tremendously courageous one. But his sexuality shouldn’t have

Doma; Og Cusack

Doma; Og Cusack

anything to do with the fact that he is a great Gaelic games player. Hopefully it may provide an alternative role model for players at all levels of the game. They’ll now realise that it is possible to operate at the pinnacle of the sport while eschewing the long-accepted and too long tolerated stereotype of the GAA player i.e. a heavy-drinking, philandering, wife=beating thug who nevertheless sits beatifically through Mass, and who is willing to do anything his church tells him. Let’s hope more players are able to stand up to the hypocritical homophobes in the association, most of whom would shit themsel at the sight of a ball hurtling towards them.

Priceless

I sometmes feel like the late Cyril Fletcher on BBC’s That’s Life! because people send me the weirdest things. Take the following:

S-Class Merc – €100000

 

Socks and togs for the lads – €600

 

Financial support for the Co. Board – €20000

 

Scoreboard Sponsorship at Lavey GFC – €5000

 

Being caught undergoing a brain transplant, in the disabled toilet, in your own pub, at 4 in the morning, by a foreign national – PRICELESS.

 

As I was just saying ...

As I was just saying ...

 Now I know the identity of this hapless person, but I would like to launch a competition, a type of “Spot the Wanker” contest. Clue: I can state categorically that this is NOT county manager Jack Keys in disguise.

Football match stopped by crowd trouble

Cavan was host to scenes of rowdiness and hooliganism on an unprecedented scale last week following the Derby five-a-slide game between Knockbride Knights and Ballyduff’s Museum Morons. A tense mood predominated throughout the first half but the trouble started at half time when Knockbride Knights’ striker (back after a prolonged illness) approached the Morons’ goal mouth and threw the contents of a small sack into it. These included animal bones, bird feathers, used toilet roll, as well as charred pieces of wood and scorched orange peel. Their deposition was accompanied by an incomprehensible diatribe delivered in a high-pitched effeminate voice. All of this was interpreted as witchcraft by the Morons, who surrounded the Knights’ man and gave him a good beating, causing him to shit himself visibly. His team mates ran to his assistance and a thoroughgoing melee ensued. Meanwhile fighting between rival fans has broken out in the terraces. A local garda attempted to separated the combatants but was hit by a sharp object thrown by the crowd in the groin. He was rendered unconscious but has since made a full recovery, though any plans he might have had about being a father have been dashed. Meanwhile local members of the Civil Defence, fire brigade and YMCA fired a mixture of tear gas and piss supplied by the County Council into the crowd, causing a rash of coughing and farting and setting off a stampede towards the toilets in which a number of people were injured. Later on the centre of Ballyduff resembled a war zone with rival gangs launching sporadic attacks on one another. A terrified resident who spoke on conditions of strict anonymity was certain as to what had provoked the trouble. “It’s all them fuckin farners an’ black bastards. Ya can’t even get a daysent plate o’ shite annymore here since the Percy French was closed.”

(It goes without saying that, like all reports of football matches in Cavan, I am not the author of the above but have filched it from its real author who will most definitely remain unknown.)

… Now whooze he gettin’ at there?

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