Art my arse

This [apparently] is supposed to be artistic?


It is supposed to represent a whale as a mothering beast, or some such shite.

Do NOT call it art.

It's just a fucking balloon with a load of massive tits hanging off it.

I suppose it could be worse though?

When they put on a gruesome display for kids involving tits and penises squirting liquid at the crowd and a monstrous creature disemboweling itself I know that the world of "art" has just about reached the bottom of the chasm into which it has been sinking for years.

Where failure is a resounding success

I have been following the saga of Irish Water with what you might call disinterested interest.

As it lurches from crisis to crisis, all the time tripping over its own incompetence it was become one of the greatest car-crash ventures of modern times.

Their latest pronouncement is the uplifting news that 43% of customers have paid.  I say "uplifting" because Irish Water claim this is an extremely good result.  They are chuffed in the extreme and claim that a lot more people will pay once they have been "reminded".  I can only assume that the threats and intimidation notices haven't gone out yet, and they are banking on a terrified response from the other 57%?

Two thoughts to consider: Firstly the 43% represents the fraction of the total number who Irish Water say are liable, as there a considerable portion who have their own supplies and will never be liable for charges.  Secondly all people who register [whether they are liable for charges or not] will get a nice little cheque for €100, courtesy of the tax payer.  

All in all they are paying out millions, and receiving back less than it costs to collect the money so they must be running at a considerable loss?  And this is a resounding success?

I came across a little piece on Farcebook which nicely encapsulates the whole fiasco:

We were in Tesco earlier and we noticed something very unusual. A lot of customers were walking out without paying at the checkout. We stood and counted and worked it out. Approximately 57% of people were leaving without dipping into their purses/wallets. We asked the manager if he was gonna do anything about this and his response was "I'm hugely satisfied" and "it's a really good start".

PS: when we asked the customers why they refused to pay for their goods, they said they'd already paid at another till and the shop was trying to bully them into paying twice. No flies on them, eh?

Another thought has crossed my mind.

If 43% is such an excellent result, then I reckon I am entitled to approach the Department of Education and ask them for a reevaluation of all my old exam results?  Any exam I ever did where I got more than 43% should be upgraded to a First Class Honours?

It's only fair?

A business preposition

I received an email yesterday.

Gratefulness for your business with our team. We rated your conceptions in interaction and growth with profitable conditions to both of us. There are several points of the arrangement we spoke the day before yesterday in the appositional documentation. Please check it out. After your acceptance we will confer other parts.
We're awaiting your answer.
IUD interprise

An hour later, I received another.

Thanks for your business with our team. We rated your notices in cooperation and development with profitable positions to both of us. There are some of paragraphs of the accommodation we spoke today in the attached materials. Please watch it. After your confirmation we will discuss other particulars.
We're looking forward to your answer.
IUD inc.

Now I'm not too sure that IUD interprise [or IUD inc. for that matter] is into.  Improvised Unexploded Devices?  Irish Union of Drinkers?  I shudder to think that it might be the obvious.

They seem to be quite a large interprise as the first letter came from Australia while the second came from Spain which impressed me.

Naturally I was intrigued at this major business opportunity so I replied.


Multiple benedictions for your communications.  I am indeed glad of thought that felicitous positions may be achievable.  Unfathomably I cannot recall any confabulations between us but would love to spoke further.  Could you please re-scribe?

I am clutched that the appositional document may imagineably contain some genesis for worry, but I am incapable for opening them as they are .scr files which you may be cognisant are screensaver flies, and I do not intention to linger for half an hour for them to materialise on my composter before I can pursue them.  Could you happily send them as text flies?

Could you also please inflame me as to the natural of your enterprise? Do you seriously construct applications for plugging females?

I am extremely expiated at the prospection of doing business with you and look forward to propositioning your other parts.

Please require soon.


I am quite excited at this prospect and I really hope nothing comes of it.

Good foundations

There was an auction this time fifty years ago.

I wasn't at it but my father was.

The bidding was brisk and soon rose to £900 [offered by the Da].  The auctioneer then stopped the bidding, took the two interested parties outside and explained that there was a reserve of £1,000.  “£1,010″ says the Old Man and thus he [and ultimately myself] became proud owners of a fair slice of Wicklow, along with a cottage with no sewage, no water and only one power socket for electricity.

I was still at school then with another year or two to run.  I was young and had yet to discover the delights of life.  I hadn't even smoked my first pipe nor grown a beard. 

Having bought the place my father [an engineer] designed a large extension to the cottage and between himself and myself we built it.  He was the brains and I was the brawn, so I got to do the easy stuff like digging foundations by hand, block laying and a lot of carpentry, while he did the hard stuff like telling me where to dig for drains.  If any of you have ever built a house single handedly, you'll know what's involved.


Me [on the left, block laying].  Father [on the right, checking my levels]

Quite a lot has happened since then.  I lost my father, my mother and my sister to The Grim Reaper.  I also lost a brother but as far as I know, he's still around somewhere though I haven't seen him in years.  I went through college and a lifetimes graft before the mast.  I met Herself and 36 years ago [on this date, as it happens!  Happy Birthday, Kid!] the daughter came along.

The path from being a spotty teenager to a nice lovable old pensioner has not been easy but it has been fun.  Given my chances again I doubt I would do anything differently, which I suppose is a good reason to be content?

So I'm sitting here in the extension what I built all those years ago and am wondering where the fuck all those years went.  In some ways the house hasn't changed much in fifty years.  I put in central heating, a new kitchen, doors out to the estate and a couple of roof windows but that's about it.  The house is not only still standing but there isn't a settlement crack to be seen.  When I build foundations I really build 'em. 

I suppose that's the moral of this wee tale?

If you're going to build foundations for life, make sure they are really fucking strong.

Going off the rails inappropriately

Traveling London by train seems to be great fun these days.

First of all, we hear the police are looking for a man.

Why, you might ask?

Well, a man was spotted on the London Underground using his mobile phone.

Now I would have thought this was a fairly commonplace occurrence [though I doubt reception would be very good?].  He was standing, tapping the screen, and a woman thought he might be using the built in camera.

Oh dear!  How dare he.

But she then thought that he might be "touching himself inappropriately".

I would love to know this woman's definition of "inappropriately".  What is appropriate touching and what is inappropriate touching?  Was the bloke having a full blown wank, or was he just scratching his balls because they were itchy?  Whichever it is, the police are searching high an low for this chap and have released a photograph [and who took that photograph?] showing a man with a phone in one hand and a magazine and wallet in the other with a coat slung over his arm.  Call me Inspector Clouseau if you will, but I would have thought it extremely difficult to whack oneself off with both hands full?  Maybe he was touching the magazine inappropriately?

I would like to see a photograph of the woman who made the complaint.  Is she gorgeous enough to make a bloke beat his sausage in public?  Somehow I doubt that and would contend that she is probably some plug ugly feminist who has secret fantasies of masturbation in public places and the whole episode was just wishful thinking.

Meanwhile, while we have this massive manhunt going on beneath the foundations of London, there is further excitement up above on the surface.

In this case they got their man, and rightly so.  He really deserves to be given a life sentence or at the very least thrown in front of a train.

He was caught red handed "abstracting electricity".

Many centuries ago I studied electronics and electricity in college.  We spent a lot of time in the labs doing lots of interesting things with electricity, but I don't ever remember being asked to "abstract" it.  Maybe I just skipped that day and went to the pub?

Anyhows, this chap was caught charging his iPhone on a train.  Well Holy God but isn't he the grand criminal?  Sucking all those milliamps out of the socket, the thieving little bastard?  I'll bet that enormous drain on the train's power caused it to slow to a crawl?

Shortly after 3.30pm, a 45-year-old man from Islington was arrested on suspicion of abstracting electricity, for which he was de-arrested shortly after. “He was further arrested for unacceptable behaviour and has been reported for this offence.

OK so, they arrested him and then de-arrested him [another new one on me] but then they arrested him again presumably because he objected to being arrested before he was de-arrested?  They say the second arrest was for unacceptable behaviour.  Here we go again!  What the fuck is "unacceptable behaviour"?  Is it the same as "inappropriate behaviour"?  Maybe it's the same bloke from the Underground?  Both cases solved?

All I can say is that I'm glad I don't live or travel in London.  It seems to be a hotbed, nay an inferno of criminal activity both above and below ground.

All we have in Ireland are common or garden dull murders.