I am sick to the back tooth from hearing about Iris Robinson.
It all started with Yer Man, the husband coming on the news and sobbing about his wife having an affair. What? Why the fuck should I care? Why the fuck is he literally broadcasting it to the world? If his missus had a drop of nookie on the side then surely that’s between him, her and the unfortunate who dipped his wick? It’s nothing to do with you, me or anyone else for that matter.
OK, so she is an MP or a MLA or a MILF or something, but I still don’t see the relevance?
Then he broadcasts to the world that she has mental problems.
For fuck’s sake! Everyone has problems, but there’s no need to shout about it. Who the fuck doesn’t have depression these days? If you are not depressed by now, then there is something seriously wrong with your state of mind. If you are depressed, talk to your family or friends or your doctor. Don’t hold a fucking press conference. If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for the Shannon farmer who first of all saw his farm disappear under three feet of water and now is trying to farm ice-sheets. Now there is someone with a real problem.
Then it transpires that she diverted some cash to The Happy Humper. Now that is a little more serious, but it is still in the ha’penny place compared to our lot lending millions to TDs to invest in golf clubs and the like? And even then, that is an issue for the locals to sort out and has fuck all to do with us Down South. So why all the meeja interest here?
And I wish they’d stop showing us that nauseating staged kiss. Are we supposed to feel all cuddly towards them for that?
The last time I kissed Herself like that was in the courts.
And that was only because we were ordered to do so by the judge.