There are a few houses up my lane.
We are a quiet bunch, apart from the yuppy family who hold crack parties from time to time and scare the sh*t out of Sandy with their fireworks.
Apart from throwing rubbish over each others hedges we keep pretty much to ourselves.
I don’t see that much of them, as I seem to be the only one who wanders around the lane. I like to bring the sawn-off in case I meet a tourist. We get a few of them wandering around as, for some strange reason, they seem to think the lane goes somewhere. If they are young, female and pretty, I give them a quick grope and invite them to see my etchings. That gets rid of them sharpish. Anyone else, I shove the sawn-off up their backside and politely show them the road.
Yesterday, I was wandering around and met Brian. He was sitting on a sofa in the middle of the lane enjoying the sun. It seemed to be a strange place for a sofa but it’s none of my business. He invited me to join him.
I don’t meet Brian much because he is one of the few residents who actually goes out to work, so he’s out most of the time. He’s a nice bloke.
We chatted for a while and then he said the dreaded words.
“I like your blog. Great laugh. I read it all the time”
“I’ve been telling all my friends about it”
“Did you like what I wrote about yourself” says I, being canny.
“Did you write about me?” says he. “I didn’t see any reference.”
[major sigh of relief]
“I recognised you on the telly the other week. Nice programme”
[so that’s how my cover was blown]
I excused myself and rushed home. I had to spend all last night reading through everything I have written. Not a pleasant task. It’s like going through the rubbish bin looking for a lost receipt.
I think I’m in the clear.
But I have to watch what I write in the future.
I’m gonna kill those b*st*rds in RTE.
Around here, the tourist hunting season doesn’t open until May 1st. Which is a pity ‘cos this morning I had two yellow-reg’s up my ass in an 80k zone flashing at me to drive faster. You know the types: “But officer, I wasn’t doing anything like 80mph. I’m just an innocent visitor who doesn’t understand anything about kilometres. And anyway, you can’t give me points or anything so nah nah, nah nah nah”.
This area is designated as an official Tourist Trap, and as such, there is no closed season. It’s one of the reasons I live here.
Hunting tourists is a great sport. I managed to shoot one from Uzbekistan the other day, which is quite a rarity.
If someone flashes you from behind, just move to the centre of the road and slow to 20. That’ll teach ’em.
I never bagged an Uzbek. I’m more a Yank hunter me – more meat on them.
Just can’t wait for the season to start. I’m getting the BBQ ready today in fact. How do you do yours, by the way? I like to stuff mine with lies and then marinate them for 4 hours with one glass of Guinness.
I know guys who cheat. They see a half dozen go into a pub, come back 4 hours later when all the work is done and shoot one on the way out. Not very sporting if you ask me.
I gave up on the Yanks. Too easy. And they tend to be bad for the cholesterol. I pot one from time to time, just to keep the hand in though. And the rule is that they have to be on the move. Sitting in cafes or pubs doesn’t count.
I’m on the lookout for a Peruvian at the moment. They seem to be quite rare.
I prefer the roasting spit to the barbecue method. It’s more fun. And I tend to have about four pints while they are cooking.
You pull off that 20 shite in front of me, I’d eventually get past ya, put the car into first and forget about the accelerator for a mile or two. I’m driving an old Diesel Estate, I can do the slow thing very well 🙂 Of course I would get bored after a while, damn youth and all that.
Do you have a nice sitting room with lots of tourist heads on the wall? I missed you on TV, so didn’t get to see your humble abode.
You can try that if you like, Niall. I have all the time in the world.
I leave the heads out with the recycling bin. The council have me a dispensation when they realised the heads could be recycled into dog food.
As for the TV link, I posted about that before.
But beware – the RTE feed is crap!!
Ah lads! Settle down. The 20km/h in the middle of the road was just a joke. Actually doing it causes incidents (I don’t call them accidents). We all know that.
At least I hope it was a joke. It was, Pater Magnus Noster, wasn’t it?
Why would I joke? If some twat who is driving much too fast comes flashing his lights at me to get out of his way, then I have a moral duty to save him from himself [or herself, but that’s rare].
I like the name by the way. 🙂
Sona si Latine loqueris.