The day of the Eclipse
Herself dragged me into the local town yesterday.
We don’t go there that often, because it is noisey and the parking is difficult.
Normally you would find the normal mix of people walking the streets, but yesterday was different. It took me about a minute to realise this. I also noticed that there were massive traffic jams trying to get out of the town. I had wondered why I found parking so easily, and why the traffic going into the town was so light.
The entire town seemed to be populated with a sort of sub-culture.
The males all looked as if they had just popped out of the bookies after a twenty year stint of staring at the screens. If they were American, they all would have been called Cletus. They had a Neanderthal, in-bred look about them – slack jaws, bulging eyes, knuckles dragging along the ground.
There were quite a few younger specimens too. There were all Gurriers and Snot Gobblers. They all had the mandatory mobile in one hand and a can of drink in the other. They communicated by whistles and by shouting at each other in an accent so thick even I couldn’t understand it.
The females were the worst. They all seemed to be in their teens and all had the mandatory mobile in one hand and a pram in the other. And they all chewed gum with their mouths open. They were all dressed to look like Britney Spears [with hair]. It seems to be compulsory to have at least one child by the time they are entering their teens. My theory is that, on entering puberty they practice at home with the family. Either that or we have the highest rate of virgin births in the world.
The women were all eying up the talent. There was one who eyed me up. She was built like Mary Harney, but was wearing a mini-skirt and a top that was vary low cut. The sight of that cleavage was as sexy as a plane crash, but just as fascinating. It was like two shaved pigs fighting in a hammock. I broke out into a cold sweat, but she passed by. Thank God.
I thought we might have wandered onto a film set, but there were no cameras around. It was strange. It was surreal. It wasn’t threatening or anything, but I felt uncomfortable. Herself didn’t notice, but she had been into a couple of shops and was more interested in her purchases. I had stayed outside the shops and this is how I had had a chance to observe what was going on.
We got out of that town as fast as we could, which wasn’t very fast as all the exit routes were still jammed with traffic.
Then it dawned on me. I wonder if the impending full lunar eclipse had anything to do with it?
All the normal folk were at home dolling themselves up for the blog awards.
Are you saying I’m not normal? 😉
Ah Grandad, welcome to the 21st century: the home of the skobie.
A sub-species of Homo sapiens – it’s a stretch to call these animals humans – they has pretty much taken over the town centres in most areas now, due to the fact that they can spread by spores. By 2020, all normal Irish people will have been evacuated and the entire country will be like Somalia in the early 90s.
I have campaigned long and hard to get Cavan Town Council to cull these vermin, or at least build a 50 foot high wall around East Cavan, but both my appeals have fallen on deaf ears.
If you’re looking for more info, check out the January and February archives for the posts Skobicus Cavanus and DS’s Definitive Tourist Guide To East Cavan.
You’ll see why I hate them so much.
are you sure you weren’t in West virginia?
I had a foreign friend visiting recently who remarked. “You Irish wear a lot of sport clothes but no one seems to be exercise – why is this?”
Holy God! They are spreading?
Our town is known for its fair share of skobies, but they usually make up about half the street population. What scared me about yesterday was that the figure was 100%. Not even 99%. I felt like a Negro at a Ku Klux Klan Convention [or can’t I say that these PC days?]
It was a Skobiefest. Culling could be an idea, but I think the inbreeding will eventually sort the problem. Most of ’em will die at birth with three heads and twelve arms, or they will all end up in institutions.
Oh no. It’s worse than that in Cavan. Recently, Fine Gael, one of the town’s more respectable perties, actually sent young skobies – some of whom had many siblings in jail – to represent Cavan in Dail na n-Og.
I know we have to gve them false hope and all, but this is getting ridiculous!
And yesterday, however marginalised you felt, in Cavan town, me and JC stood out as much as someone screaming I love America in the streets of Tehran. That’s how many of them were about yesterday.
“That’s how many of them were about yesterday.”
This would tend to prove my point about the eclipse. It must have had some primitive significance for them. After all, having only a single brain cell they must see the world in a different light from the rest of us.
There was something about yesterday that brought them out in such numbers. I have never seen anything like it.
Could this be the coming of the Apocalypse with the plague of locusts? Maybe they mistranslated the original Hebrew and it should have read a ‘plague of Skangers’?
The Seven Seals have been broken! You’re right! Skangers are in fact the forces of Satan! That would explain those awful, dressed up Opel Corsas they use as chariots!
Now we just wait for Jesus to come down on a white horse and save us all.
Any day now …
Oh great, let’s all say the unsayable…
Your local town is also the nearest town to me, Grandad, and I rarely go there cos it’s like being on an alien planet and I spend the entire rushed visit suppressing expletives as i navigate my way through the (very alarming) natives.
A bigger town to the north of it is my choice for the twice-yearly excursion for things which can’t be got in my village, and though it hosts the same horrifying population of ill-mannered in-breeding cerebrally-challenged young females who bruise your shins heedlessly with their baby buggies (i call them the Buggy Bashers) when they are not shoving the buggies right in front of oncoming traffic to force their way across the busy street, as well as truly frightening young males making neanderthal grunt noises in place of language (the only recognisable words being F*** and C*** and Bollox), it is less awful as its mix includes better shops and a more upmarket business centre.
In two other small towns within the same 10 mile radius the contrast is dramatic and a Dressed for Comfort Fifty-Something like myself feels like an alien for other reasons – like not driving a black 4X4 and not being perma-tanned with legs up to the armpits, having luminous white teeth, straight blonde hair, and sinister long white-tipped false claws, the whole shebang dressed skin-tight and head to toe in black, preferably displaying tanned midriff with a diamond in the navel. Clones: who needs to wait for the scientists to do it……!
But let us return to Buggyville North…
On one visit I had just lodged almost every available penny to cover bank debits, and was wearily reflecting on my long-term budgetary constraints while treating myself to lunch in a self-serve eatery. I found myself hemmed in (like wagons drawn in a circle) by a gang of young wans ALL with buggies, dreadful accents and loud-mouthed foul language, who from their conversation were clearly all living on YOUR and MY taxes through the dole and single parent allowance (the Health Board pay for the buggies, did you know that?), and i couldnt finish my baked spud & salad quickly enough to escape listening to them talking about who was going to Lanzeroh-ee and who was going to Grand Canary, prior to which they were organising a rota at Tracey’s house for sunbed sessions cos she had hired one to use at home (wanna bet it’s a Health Board funded house???) and she was renting it out by the hour to the rest of them. Having neither my own home nor the remotest possibility of a holiday but having worked hard every year for 35 years and never drawn a penny from the state, i dont know how i didnt auto-combust in the middle of the cafe and set fire spontaneously to the lot of them. I hope that when they did get to Lanzeroh-ee or Grand Canary their compulsive leisure activities may have improved the gene pool for their next state-funded offspring – though my sinking innards tell me they are far more likely to have degraded it further by mating with shaved-headed Lager Lout from Lancs with his belly spilling over his Union Jack boxers, a stud in his tongue, both biceps tattoed with skulls and an even more limited vocabulary.
Speaking of lunar eclipses….roll on Airbuses to the Moon. Get them all in (much better use of state funds than paying to keep them here). Get them up there and leave them there. Should be no trouble attracting them to the trip (Ad: “Defy Gravity! F*** your brains out upside-down!” ).
Are you saying I’m not normal?
Ahem…well, a bit more normal than that lot anyway.
Hey Kav, my lunacy only manifests itself when I see someone stealing my parents’ hard paid tax money just because they couldn’t be arsed working.
That’s my job.