They tell you that marriage is about a lot of things. They say it’s about love and companionship. They say it’s about sharing a life.
What a load of bollox.
Marriage is having to watch television programmes when you’d rather have peace and quiet.
Herself decided she wanted to watch that ghastly fanny-fest that calls itself The Rose of Tralee.
I toyed with the idea of going down to the pub, but I’m a bit short on the readies at the moment, so I was stuck.
I tried not to watch, but you know how it is with car crashes? Yes. You just have to take a peek.
Fuck me but some of them were woeful. And when they weren’t being woeful they were being as predictable as sin. They all rattled on about how it was their first trip to Ireland [I swear a couple of the Irish girls came up with that line too, which surprised me] and what a wonderful place Ireland is [HAH! They should try living here]. Their grannies all came from Roscommon [it’s probably the one, very prolific granny?]. They all do Irish dancing and they all think their escort is ‘great’. One of them had the common sense to try to strangle Ray D’Arcy with a Boa Constrictor which was quite inventive, but the ads came on and we missed the interesting bit.
How do the judges judge them? God knows.
I have my own method.
So far I have a shortlist of 0.
Maybe I should lower my standards a bit?
may the question should be ‘Would I’?’
And would they not insist on watching The Rose of Tralee year after year?
I too was forced to watch it.
It’s proper cringe tv especially when the “Texan Rose” decides to put on cowboy boots and a hat and partake in some Oirish dancing.
If you’re born in Ireland, you’re Irish. You’re not Irish if you’re great great great great great great great great granny fucked a leprechaun.
Ah Grandad have a heart!
Sounds like ye were all chained to yer chairs by the boss!
(we know the secret truth though – it’s irresistable!)
a second thought – ye could always get out in the garden and prune/cut the grass around the manor – hey you might find Sandy, i hear she’s lost in the forest!
Try a bit of star gazing – its much more fun and there’s nothing to swear at!!!
Did Herself enjoy it??????
Maxi – What are ya doin’ tonight? Fancy a pint?
Mick – I was sitting in my chair minding my own business, but this thing was blaring at me half the night. Did I have a choice? No. Not unless I went and sat in the garden but it was too fucking chilly for that. As for your second suggestion – that I mow the lawns? Have you ever tried mowing the lawns at ten at night? I thought not.
Kate – Star gazing is something I do the odd time. And the only reason I don’t do it more often [for example, like alst night] is because thaere are big black fuck-off raincouds in the way. Herself had exacly the same opinion as myself. At least, she had better have, or she’s in trouble again.
Incidentally, there was a typo in the article what I wrote – I said that a “rose” had tried to ‘strange’ Ray D’Arcy, which was an interesting use of the language?? I fixed it anyway, despite no one noticing. Humph!
would we dare criticise?????????
The Poser of Tralee is lacking something spectacular, Maybe if little D’arcy was dressed
in a Leprechaun suit it would look more appealing. I’m sure Foster and Allen still have a suit to lend him. He could really “Irish” it up by throwing in a few “woohoo’s jeysus your a thick wan” while jovially slapping their tightly bound asses.
If you’re buying, I’ll be there
Kate – You would indeed!
Welcome, Common Man! I agree that something spectacular wouldn’t go amiss. However I would suggest something along the lines of a ton or two of dynamit under the stage. That would liven things up?
Maxi – Too knackered. All will be clear tomorrow.
relax, 12 months of respite now, jeez what’ll ye do with yourself….?
well I suppose I must then…. look at the typo’s in your reply to me… I counted 3!