MEMOIRS OF

AN

IRISH PIG

 

 

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© mycallahvorie

 

This here masterpiece is dedicated til

Caroline Fleck and Roy Rennix,

Downtown Radio

With best wishes and much affection

from

Mildred McSweedelpipes

&

Mickle McPee

 

 

How youse doin’.  My name’s Mickle McPee and I’ve been married til Mildred for manys the long year.  Now, I’d leck to tell youse a few wee things about our marriage, along with a few other wee tales about me life before I got hitched. So here’s a random selection of stuff that I’ve extracted from me memoirs.

 

ME MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

 

 One Friday when I was still a single man, I was feelin’ a wee bit grumpy towards me mammy.  Not only was me breakfast not on the table when I got up at noon, but when I wanted a drop of milk for me tay, sure she hadn’t even got the cows milked neither.  Then when I had a look at all the new clothes she’d bought me that mornin’, sure they wasn’t even the right size.  But did she seem to care or give a damn at all about me?  Naw, she was far more interested in strokin’ her beloved cat Marmeduke and talkin’ a whole load of owl nonsense til it.  But not only that, just before I was goin’ out for the night, I realised she hadn’t ironed me shirt, polished me shoes, nor inflated the flat tyre on me car. 

So I was in desperate bad humour when I got down til the pub and after havin’ a lough of drinks, I decided I’d taych me mammy a lesson she’d never forget, by givin’ her the sack and tradin’ her in for a newer model.  And that’s when I asked this cuttie Mildred to marry me. 

Needless to say, when I woke up the follyin’ afternoon with a big thumpin’ hangover, I immediately had second thoughts and for a lough of days after, I lay real low, hopin’ me proposal’d be forgot.  But when Mildred’s big hulkin’ hallion of a da called by one day for to discuss the weddin’ arrangements, I realised that I was caught hook, line and sinker and that there’d be no chance of backin’ out.  So before I hardly knew where I was, sure she had me up the aisle.

Man, it was one of the best weddin’s I’d ever been til and we all had loads of booze and there was powerful crack.  But after about 15 hours of this, I began to feel a wee bit tired.  So I decided to call it a day and go home til me mammy and me own wee bed.  But then, just as I was goin’ out the dooer, someone reminded me that it was me own weddin’ I was attendin’ and that the days of me goin’ back til me mammy was over forever.  And begod, when I looked over at Mildred and her stern, no-nonsense face, I had this sudden premonition about what was comin’ down the track.  Bejaysus, I felt leck cryin’.  What the hell had I gone and done!

 

STUFF FROM ME YEARS OF MARRIED STRIFE

 

DINNER AT SANDRA’S

 

A few nights ago, Mildred dragged me along til her new friend Sandra’s for dinner.  As we rode up the drive til their place on our bone-shaker bicycles, the first thing I noticed was the size of their huge modern mansion and the two big flashy, top-of-the-range cars parked outside.  So before I’d even met Sandra and her husband, I’d made up me mind I didn’t leck them.

And things didn’t improve none neither.  Now whenever I meet someone for the first time, I just grunt at them and if they’re damned lucky, I might even shake them by the hand.  But that Sandra one, she’s intil all this owl nonsense of kissin’ you on both cheeks and slabberin’ all about yee.  Och, when she was kissin’ me on both cheeks, I just wished I hadn't shaved.

Now while Sandra and Mildred was hashin’ away til each other, Sandra’s husband Mark tried chattin’ til me.  But his attempts only lasted for about two minutes before he gave up.

Not long after, we went intil the dinin’ room.  The first thing I noticed was these enormous wine glasses which raised me spirits a bit, for I was certain I was in for a good sup.  But sure they only poured a wee drop intil the bottom of each glass.  Now the way I look at it, if someone gives you a big glass, then they should fill it right up til the top and to hell with all this owl nonsense about stickin’ your snout intil it, for to smell its aroma.

But despite everythin’, I was lookin’ forward til a damned good big feed.  But sure all I got was a plate with a few wee bits and pieces of strange lookin’ food stuck in the middle of it.  Sure I had the whole damned lot down the hatch in about 10 seconds flat!

Well, to cut a long story short, when it came til time for to say goodbye, Sandra wasn’t in no rush to come over and kiss me on both cheeks.  In fact, I could tell from the cut of her, that she’d have preferred takin’ me by the throat! 

 

SHERLOCK AND TIDDLES

 

Now one of our neighbours is an owl doll called Gladys and because she has no man to love, she loves her pets instead.   First of all, there was her wee dog Sherlock.  Man, she was that close til that wee dog, that she trayted it leck it was a child.  Every day when they was goin’ out, she’d put a wee coat on it, wee bootees on its feet and on the top of its head, she’d place a wee Sherlock Holmes hat.  In fact, the only thing that was missin’ was a wee pipe in its wee gob.

And when it did its business, she’d immediately reach for her bag and pull out a tissue for to wipe its wee arse.  But unfortunately she let it off the lead one day and it ran straight intil the jaws of a big fierce Rottweiler called Moriarty and sadly, that was the end of Sherlock.

The next pet she got was a cat called Tiddles.  But although she loved that cat as much as she’d loved Sherlock, the routine was a kinda different each day, for the cat didn’t leck goin’ for walks on a lead, wearin’ clothes or havin’ its wee arse wiped.  So they just stayed at home instead.

However, one day Tiddles climbed so high up a tree, it couldn’t get down and so the fire brigade had to be called.  Well the boys came along, scaled the tree and rescued Tiddles.  Now Gladys was that grateful, she insisted the boys come in for a cup of tay.

Well it was when Gladys was wavin’ them off in their big red fire ingine that she heard a yaowl and loud squelch and when she went to investigate, she found the nicest wee cat mat you’d ever see in your whole life.

Gladys has a goldfish now.  My goodness, but I hope nawthin’ happens til it!!

 

SCOTCH BROTH

 

Mildred’s owl ma Aggie is still alive and kickin’.  Now they say that you should always look at a girl’s mother before you marry her.  Well unfortunately, it’s a piece of advice I’ve always regretted not takin’, for Mildred’s ma is an owl battleaxe, just leck what Mildred’s become herself over the years.

Well anyway, Aggie lives on her own and Mildred drags me along to visit her for lunch every Sunday.  Now Aggie’s that thrifty that she never starts cookin’ until we get there, for fear of us not turnin’ up and the ingredients for the meal goin’ til loss.  So when we arrive, we always have to sit about waitin’ in the parlour, while Aggie starts makin’ the lunch from scratch in the kitchen, which seems to take forever, on account of her bein’ so slow.

And it’s the same owl thing week in, week out.  She calls it Scotch Broth, but I have another name for it, which you won’t find in no recipe book.  Well anyway, while she’s makin’ this here concoction, she always has a feg on, which she never takes out of her gob and as a result, there’s always a big long grey ash on the end of it.

Now sometimes when I’m on me way til the bathroom, I look intil the kitchen and I see her there laynin’ over the pot, stirrin’ this evil lookin’ brew.  But there’s one thing that puzzles me no end. There’s never any ashtray in sight, nor any sign of ash on the flooer, worktop or cooker.  So when the long grey ash eventually falls off her feg, where does it go? 

 

TRAYTED LECK A DOG

 

For some peculiar raison or another, Mildred’s never done traytin’ me leck a dog.  From the moment I open me eyes in the mornin’ til I close them at night, she’s on at me the whole time, naggin’, moanin’ and yappin’.  But the way I look at it, she should be very grateful that I’m not one of them husbands, who gets under their wife’s feet while they’re tryin’ to work.

Well one day recently, Mildred was worse than usual and it got so bad, that I let rip at her.

“Och for God’s sake,” I roared, “will you stop traytin’ me leck a dog!”       

“I’ll trayte you leck a dog if I want!” she scrayched back defiantly.

“Och, whatever you leck,” I growled, “trayte me leck a dog if you want ..... see if I care!”  Well, she took huff at this and there follyed the silent traytment.  Aye, she didn’t say one word til me for the rest of the afternoon and my goodness, but it was heaven. 

Well when it came near taytime, she went intil the kitchen and before long, these lovely smells was waftin’ out about the place.  My goodness, I began to feel ravenous and by the time she called me intil the kitchen, sure I was hardly fit to make it there, because I was that wake with hunger. 

Now when I sat down at the table with me knife and fork in each hand, that’s when I got the quare gunk, for instead of puttin’ the plateful of lovely grub down in front of me, she put it down on the flooer in front of the dog, who didn’t say “naw” and immediately got stuck in. 

Now while I was lookin’ at all this in utter amazement, she plonked the dog’s bowl full of Pedigree Chum down in front of me.  Well as hungry as I was, sure I wasn’t gonna ate none of that!

 

LARNIN’ TO FLY

 

One day recently while I was watchin’ TV, I glanced out the windy and saw that Mildred was outside on the top of the big barn, tryin’ to fix the roof.   Well anyway, the next thing I noticed was her sailin’ down through the air.  I therefore assumed that she was either larnin’ to fly, or she’d slipped and fallen.  So I got up from me chair and got down on me knees – not to pray for Mildred mind you, but to set the video recorder, so that it would record the rest of the programme I was watchin’.  I then strolled out til where Mildred was lyin’ in haype groanin’.

“Are you all right?” I asked her.

“Do I look all right!” she scrayched. “For God’s sake, call an ambulance.”  So I dandered back intil the house and dialled 999.

Well when we got intil the hospital, they took that long seein’ til her, that I started to get scarred – in case I wouldn’t back in time for the start of the soaps on TV.

But to cut a long story short, they eventually got her patched up and out she came, all bandaged up and on a set of crutches.  Man but I was quare and relieved to see that she was fit enough to come home – for I was gettin’ fierce hungry and I needed her back home in the kitchen, for to make me my tay.

 

HOMEBREW

 

I got that fed up payin’ high bar prices and also wakin’ up with a hangover and havin’ no cure about the place, that I decided to make some homebrew.  So I secretly got all the ingredients and equipment and started the brewin’ process in the owl shed, which is me sanctuary and a place Mildred never goes near. 

Man every mornin’, I used to sneak out til the shed for to inspect me beer and was I not lookin’ forward til the time, when it’d be ready to drink.  Mind you, I didn’t tell Mildred nawthin’ about it and as far as I was concerned, she didn’t have a clue as til what I was up til. 

Then one night, when the beer was just about ready to drink, I had to go out for a darts match.  But when I returned home I got the quare gunk, for Mildred had all her mates up.  My goodness, they was all in the front room, cacklin’ and scraychin’ leck a coven of owl witches and I could tell from the sound of them, that they was all as full as shucks.   But if that wasn’t bad enough, sure it was nawthin’ til the shock I got, when I realised they’d drained every last drop of me homebrew beer!

 

REDECORATIN’

 

One day I larnt that me uncle Jack had died and left me a fair stash of cash.  Well there was no way I was gonna tell Mildred, for if I had, she’d have been lookin’ for some of it for the house or somethin’ just as daft.  So when I eventually got me hands on the money, I hid it all in me secret hidey-hole under the loose flooer boord in the front room.

But a few days later, when I was away up the country on me holidays, Mildred took it intil her head to redecorate the front room.  Now I’ve got to hand it til her, she did a grand job.  Aye, the newly painted windies and ceilin’ looked great and the new wallpaper was akinda nice too. However, I got the quare gunk when I saw she’d laid that modern laminated wood stuff all over the whole flooer as well.  My goodness, was I not downhearted.  I mane, how was I gonna get til me cash now!

Well the next mornin’, Mildred went shoppin’.  Now there was nawthin’ unusual about that.  However, when she returned with her hair all done and a whole pile of new clothes and a funny wee smirk on her face, well that WAS unusual!

 

PUBLIC LOO ATTENDANT

 

I recently got that fed up with Mildred’s yappin’, that I decided that the only way to get any pace was to find meself a wee job.  So when I noticed they was lookin’ for an attendant for the public loo down in the town, I was fierce interested, especially as it was right beside the bookie’s and me favourite pub.  I also knew, that with regard til the claynin’ side of things, sure I could always order Mildred to slip down from time til time durin’ the day and do it all for me.

However, after some thought, I decided agin applyin’.  First of all, there didn’t appear to be any career prospects and this wouldn’t have suited an ambitious buck leck me.  Secondly, it wouldn’t have looked too good on me CV.  I mane, if at some later stage, I went for an interview for some high-powered job with some big company, sure they’d be shoutin’ “next!” as soon as they’d see ‘public loo attendant’ on me CV.

But the main raison why I didn’t apply was because owl Lizzie was still workin’ there and I didn’t want nawthin’ to do with her, follyin’ a bad experience I’d had with her a wee while previous.

One day I’d walked intil the men’s loo just after she’d mopped the flooer and she clicked her owl sour tongue when she noticed me footprints on the wet flooer.        

“Och, if only I’d known you’d just done the flooer,” I sneered at her, “sure I’d have flapped me arms, flown in and hovered over the urinal.”  Well bejaysus, she gave me hell and ate the face off me.  It was desperate and I wasn’t none too playsed, let me tell yee.  I mane, I went in there nearly every day in life.  So it was hardly the right way for her to trayte one of her best customers, now was it!

 

CHECKOUT QUEUE

 

One day Mildred gave me a shoppin’ list and told me that if I didn’t do the shoppin’, we’d starve.  Now I didn’t want me mates to see me carryin’ bags of shoppin’, so I moaned and groaned about havin’ to do a woman’s job.  However, I didn’t relish the idea of goin’ hungry neither.  So I eventually caved in and away I trudged.

Well after I’d got everythin’, I fell intil chat with this doll Gladys, who was just in front of me in the checkout queue.  Man, it was a lovely wee chat we had, let me tell yee and I became that enamoured with her, that I started to really lookin’ forward til gettin’ Mildred rizz, by tellin’ her all about what a lovely woman Gladys was.  Aye, I couldn’t hardly wait to tell her in a barbed sort of a way, that it was an awful pity all weemen couldn’t be as nice as Gladys.

Now not only was I really enjoyin’ me chat with Gladys, but the checkout queue was movin’ quick as well.  So I was sure I’d be out in plenty of time for that race down in the bookies, that I was gonna bet on.

Well more fool me!  First of all, when it came til Gladys’s turn, she started hashin’ til the checkout woman.  Then of coorse, there was somethin’ in her basket with no price on it and someone had go and get it.  Then there was somethin’ she’d forgot and away she went for to fetch it – and bejaysus, she took ages!   But if that wasn’t bad enough, when eventually everythin’ had gone through, out came the coupons and there follyed a long discussion as til what was valid and what wasn’t.  After that, she got out her purse and started countin’ out all this change.  But to make matters worse, sure she didn’t have enough and there follyed a whole pile more discussion as til what she’d layve behind.

And it was ONLY THEN that she started to pack.  My goodness, I was gratin’ me teeth out of frustration and if I’d had any hair left at all, sure I’d have pulled that out as well.  Bejaysus, by the time that damned woman was finished, sure I was near fit to take her by the throat.  As for me horse, sure it was on its way home by the time I got down til the bookies! 

 

SHARIN’ EVERYTHIN’

 

One stormy day recently, Joey and Tommy came intil the bar.  Now because it was so windy outside, their hair was all askew.  So as Tommy was orderin’ two whiskies for to warm them up, follyed by two stouts to then cool them down, Joey took out his comb for to get his hair back intil some kinda order.  Then after the drink had been set up, Tommy decided he wanted to sort his hair out too and so he asked Joey for the loan of his manky owl comb, which was full of owl hair, yella bits and other owl stuff that would have turned your stomach.

Well as Tommy started combin’, Joey took out his glasses and began to read his newspaper. Then when Joey'd finished readin’, Tommy decided that he'd leck to have a wee read himself.  And that's when he asked Joey for the loan of his glasses.  Now when Tommy started readin’ the newspaper, Joey decided that he was feelin’ a wee bit peckish and so he got a big bag of paynuts. 

Later when Tommy'd finished readin’, he noticed that Joey hadn't finished all the paynuts.  So he decided that he'd complete the job for him.  And that's when he turned til Joey and asked him for the loan of his false choppers.  Well my goodness, Joey didn't hesitate one second. He took them out of his gob, handed them over til Tommy and although they was all clogged up with nuts, Tommy didn't even give them a wipe, before he stuck them intil his gob and started hanchin away leck billio on the rest of the paynuts. 

 

2 FOR 1 BARGAINS

 

Now although Mildred nearly always does the shoppin’, there came one day when she wasn’t able and I had to go.  So she gave me a food list and some money and off I went, moanin’ and groanin’ every step of the way.  However, when I got intil the suppermarket, I was that amazed at all the 2 for 1 bargains goin’, that I soon forgot all about me bad mood.  I also forgot all about Mildred’s food list and instead, I got stuck intil snappin’ up all these 2 for 1 bargains. 

Now I thought Mildred would be fierce playsed at all the money I’d saved with these here bargains.  But it was totally the opposite and man, did she not lay intil me.

“Och, what’s all this rubbish!” she scrayched, “sure we’ll never use ANY of it!! ..... I mane what do we want two leather chamois’s for? ..... sure we haven’t even got a car!”

Well later on near dinner time, Mildred went intil the kitchen.  Now normally it wouldn’t have been too long, until there’d have been delicious smells waftin’ through the house.  But that day was different and when I went intil the kitchen to investigate, I found her sittin’ at the table readin’ a newspaper, with nawthin’ on the go on the cooker.  So I was quare and surprised when she called me in shortly afterwards for me dinner.  She surprised me even further when she said there was gonna be a lot of courses, because we normally never have more than two.

Well I got the quare gunk when she placed the first course down in front of me, for it was the two books I’d got chaype on how to larn Russian in 5 aisy lessons.

“Now let’s see what I can find you for your second course,” she said, as she started rustlin’ through me bags of shoppin’. 

 

SUPPERMARKET TROLLEY

 

Believe it or not, I sometimes used to go shoppin’ with Mildred til the locial suppermarket.  Havin’ said that, I didn’t actually do none of the shoppin’, because my role was simply to folly Mildred around with the trolley. 

Now although the job shouldn’t have taken more than about 15 minutes, it always took a whole pile longer. This was because Mildred kept bumpin’ intil these peculiar weemen, who actually seemed to leck her for some strange raison or another.  Now I didn’t really mind them stoppin’ to hash, because it gave me the chance to duke in behind Mildred and have a REALLY good look at all the talent that was there.

However, the last time I went shoppin’ with Mildred, things sorta got out of hand.  Aye, Mildred bumped intil this owl doll she hadn’t seen for a while and they started up a conversation.  Well that was alright for a while, but bejaysus the hashin’ went on that long, that I started to get fierce fed up and decided that it was time to break it all up.  So I started to make the other woman feel fierce unaisy, by starin’ contemptuously intil her trolley, shakin’ me head from side til side and tut, tut, tutin’ scornfully.  Man, it was no time at all till she stopped listenin’ til Mildred and instead her eyes flitted anxiously between me and her trolley, as she tried to work out what the hell I was tut, tut, tutin’ about.  Needless to say, Mildred got the hump at not bein’ listened til and stomped off in a huff.

Aye, as Mildred’d tell yee herself, I was a real joy to go shoppin’ with.

 

SWEEMIN’

 

One fine day, I decided to go sweemin’.  So I found me owl togs and I headed off down til the locial sweemin’ pool. 

But it wasn’t much fun.  First of all, there was a squad of school chillder, scraychin’, shoutin’ and dive-bombin’ and the only time any of them ever stopped arsin’ about, was to take a piddle in the pool. 

Then there was the professionals doin’ their mandatory 50 lengths or so and whenever they went past me, not only did they near drownd me, but their elbows kept hittin’ me and their toe nails kept scrapin’ me. 

So I was quare and glad when they all got out.  But the next thing I heard was the dreaded babble of a whole pile of weemen and when I looked round, I saw what looked leck a battalion of the Aquatic Division of the Weemen’s Institute emergin’ from the weemen’s changin’ room.  Man, I was quare and glad I wasn’t in their road, for I’d have been trampled underfoot.

Me heart sank.  However, when they all got in, they seemed more interested in hashin’ than sweemin’.  So I remained well away from them, at the far end of the pool.

However, it wasn’t long until somethin’ else annoyed me.  Aye, I suddenly noticed somethin’ ghastly floatin’ on top of the water.  So I roared indignantly at one of the staff and he got a big pole and fished it out, before disappearin’ out the back with it.

But what a shock I got next!  When I looked round, I saw waves of them weemen chuggin’ up the pool towards me.  It was time to go!!  However, there was just one wee sneg.  The thing that had been floatin’ on the top of the water and which the boyo had fished out, had been none other than me owl togs.  My goodness, I was totally in the buff and all those weemen was gettin’ closer and closer!!!

Well, to cut a long story short, as well as bein’ barred from the most of the pubs round our wee town, I’m now also barred from the sweemin’ pool as well! 

 

BUYIN’ A NEW BICYCLE

 

I recently decided to take up cyclin’ again and so I dug out me owl bone-shaker from behind all the rubbish in the shed.  But I got the quare gunk when I saw the rats had ate the saddle, that the chain was all rusty and had fallen off and that the carbide lamp on the front wouldn’t work no more neither.  So I decided to buy a new bike.

However, that was aisier said than done.  Man, when I went down til the cycle shop, all they seemed to have was these flashy things with no mudguards on them.  But what hell use would they be in a place leck Northern Ireland!  Sure every time I’d go out cyclin’, I’d come back with a wet arse.

Well anyway, I did eventually find one with mudguards.  So the next thing was to get a helmet.  But once again, they only had these flashy modern lookin’ things.

“You don’t happen to have one designed leck a flat cap?” I asked the man.  He shook his head.  But then I had an idea.  So I put a helmet on and then perched me flat cap on top of it.  But sure that didn’t work neither, cos me cap kept fallin’ off.

Later when I got home, I turned til Mildred.

“You know,” I said, “an owl buck leck me wearin’ one of them flashy helmets ..... sure it’d only make me look leck an eegit.”

“Och darlin’, you shouldn’t worry about lookin’ leck an eegit,” she replied, “sure everyone already knows, you ARE an eegit!!”

 

ME DINNER

 

As soon as Mildred told me that she was goin’ away for a day and’d be stayin’ with her sister overnight, I was quare and playsed.  But she had one BIG problem to solve before she went: who was gonna make me my dinner that evenin’?  However, that was quickly resolved, when our neighbour Flo said she’d do it.

Well anyway, Mildred left and that evenin’ Flo came til our dooer, with a big plate covered in a cloth.  Now I was quare and relieved about this, cos I was absolutely wake with hunger.

Later on, while I was out the back lookin’ for the beer I’d hidden at the top of the garden, who should stick their snout over the hedge, but the bowel Flo.

“Well,” she said cheerily, with a big smile on her face, “how did your dinner go?”

“Och, it was great,” said I, “the dog really enjoyed it.”  My goodness, the first thing that disappeared in a flash was her big smile and the next thing was herself, as she stomped away, lookin’ as black as thunder.  

Well you know, when I went til bed that night I couldn’t sleep at all, on account of me belly rumblin’ from hunger the whole night.  Then the next mornin’, there wasn’t no breakfast in bed.  But on top of that, when I did eventually get downstairs, sure the TV wasn’t on neither and I had to turn it on meself.  And things didn’t get no better. So what with one thing and another - and although I hate to admit this - I was quare and glad when Mildred got back.

 

COLD BLUES

 

I had a fierce bad cold yesterday and when I was grumblin’ about it til me owl pal Aristotle, he tolt me that a cold won’t never layve yee, until such times as it finds itself another host, which is the only raison why it forces you to sneeze, cos this way you spread the virus.  And he went on to tell me, that if I wanted to get rid of me cold real quick, I should go intil some busy place leck a suppermarket or a popular bar, then creep up on some unsuspectin’ victim, before sneezin’ full-blast right intil their face, because if I did this successfully, the cold would find itself a new host and therefore immediately layve me.

Well I decided to folly his advice and bejaysus, I can vouch for every word he said, for after I’d sneezed right intil the face of this big rough lookin’ hallion in the suppermarket, me cold suddenly disappeared leck magic. 

Now I’m quare and playsed that me cold has now gone. The only sneg is that I now have to go and find Aristotle, for to see if he has an instant cure for a couple of black eyes and a thick lip!

 

GOOD FOR YOU

 

I’ve just larnt that Goji berries are fierce good for you because they’re so full of anti-oxidants.  So that’s yet another thing to add til me never-endin’ list of things I should buy for the good of me health.

It seems that there’s hardly a day goes by but I don’t larn of somethin’ new, that’s supposed to be full of health enhancin’ properties.  But I am gettin’ desperate cheesed off by it all.  Not only is it a fierce tedious job continually addin’ things til me ‘GOOD FOR YOU’ list, but it takes about 3 shoppin’ trips each day to buy all these wonderful things.  Furthermore, because I’m that afraid of missin’ out on the magical effects that each thing is gonna have on me, I seem to spend the most of me time atin’ them all!  But not only that, it’s costin’ me an absolute fortune!

Aye, I really am gettin’ fed up with it all, especially as these things don’t actually make me feel any better at all.  In fact, they just make me feel bloody awful!  But what makes it even worse, is that although there is just one item on me ‘BAD FOR YOU’ list, I know from experience, that it would do me far more good than all those other things put together and make me feel so much better.  Aye, a big slap of DRINK!!!

 

LITTLE SCRATCH

 

Whenever I watch a TV programme leck Holby City or some hospital documentary, I’m always puzzled as til why they always warn the patient when they are gonna to give them an injection, that they’ll experience “a little scratch”, because whenever I’ve been in hospital, it always felt more leck a little prick, which I would suggest is a more accurate description.  But I suppose it’s all down til political correctness.  I mane, it mightn’t go down too well, if some male doctor was to approach a woman patient and tell her that he was now gonna to give her a “little prick”.

As for me wife Mildred, if she was in hospital and was told to expect a “little prick”, she’d probably reply: “Why, is me husband comin’ to visit me?”

 

PET NAMES

 

Now one of me neighbours is an owl buck called Phil and he’s different from all the other farmers round here, in that he traytes his animals leck pets and gives them all names.  For example, his favourite hen is called Gertrude and his three bullocks are Tom, Dick and Harry.

Well I was walkin’ down the lane the other day, when I noticed he’d gone and got himself a new boar.  Bejaysus, what an odejious, ugly, revoltin’ lookin’ baste it is.  And you should see the dirt on him, and all the slabbers!  And the stink of him too!  But on top of that, sure I’d know to look at him, that he’ll obviously be good for nawthin’, except gruntin’ and stickin’ his snout intil where it’s not wanted.

Well anyway, when Phil spied me lookin’ at this here boar, he came amblin’ over, for to find out what I thought of him.

“A fine baste,” I lied, “a fine baste.” 

“Um,” he said wistfully, takin’ a pull on his pipe.

“And what name are you gonna give him?” I asked.   He took another pull on his pipe.

“Och,” he replied, “in light of what you’ve just said, I think Mickle would be a most suitable name ..... wouldn’t you agree?”

 

NEW NEIGHBOUR

 

I was quare and sad when me neighbour Archie sold up and left recently, because he’d been me mucker and drinkin’ partner for manys the long year.  

Well although I wondered what sort of useless whoers’d be movin’ in, I didn’t have to wonder long.  About 3 days after Archie left, there was a rap at the dooer and because Mildred was out diggin’ drains with a shovel, I had to get up from in front of the TV and go answer the dooer meself. 

Needless to say, I was none too playsed and when I opened the dooer, I had one quare big black glower all over me face.  But this was instantly replaced by a big smile, when I saw there was a very tasty lookin’ bit of stuff, standin’ on the dooer step.

She said her name was Molly and then explained that she was gettin’ Archie’s house fit for habitation and was wonderin’ if I could give her a hand to move somethin’.

“Of coorse, of coorse,” I instantly replied and follyed her over til Archie’s, chatterin’ away merrily all the while.

Well she was a quare attractive woman and it began to cross me mind, that maybe if I played me cards right, I’d be in with a chance, especially as there was no ring on her finger, nor any mention of a husband. 

Man, I couldn’t do enough for her and I was up there every day thereafter, doin’ all sorts of jobs for her. Needless to say, Mildred wasn’t none too playsed with this new development and after a lough of days of holdin’ her whisht, she eventually let rip.

“Och, you silly owl ballocks,” she cried, “if I ever ask you do anythin’ for me, you just grumble and groan and do nawthin’ at all ..... but when that Molly one clicks her fingers, bejaysus you’re up and away to do all yee can to help her.” But I just gave her a contemptuous look and dismissed her with a wave of me hand.  Aye, I was far too busy dreamin’ about me and Molly, to be payin’ any attention til all of Mildred’s venomous yappin’ and callin’ me an owl ballocks.

A few days later, there was a rap at the dooer.  Now Mildred had just come in after buildin’ a byre and so she went to answer it.  I expected her to roar for me, to let me know it was Molly lookin’ for me.  But naw, I just heard some murmurin’ and then she disappeared.  I was of coorse very curious as til what was goin’ on and so I got up and looked out the windy.  And bejaysus, that’s when I got the quare gunk, for what did I see, but Mildred headin’ over til Archie’s, with this very handsome lookin’ man. 

Needless to say, I was desperate curious to find out who the hell he was and I couldn’t hardly wait for Mildred to get back, so I could quiz her all about him.  But she was up there for absolutely ages and it put me in fierce bad humour, especially as I could see that me tay was gonna be late.

Well anyway, when she eventually did get back, she looked sorta all aglow. 

“That’s John,” she cooed, “he’s our new neighbour.”

“Eh!” I exclaimed all disappointed. “Is he Molly’s husband then?”  She shook her head.

“Naw,” she replied, “he’s her brother ..... and he’ll be livin’ over there ..... and all on his own too ..... Molly was only gettin’ the place ready for him while he was away abroad ..... but she’s gone away back til England now ..... til her girl friend.”  Me mouth dropped open.

“But,” she went on, “if you’d spent less time tryin’ to impress her and chattin’ all about yourself, sure she’d have told you all this herself.”

Well do you know, Mildred’s up at John’s nearly every day now.  But not only that, she’s taken til brushin’ her hair, dollin’ herself up, puttin’ on warpaint and there’s always a scent of perfume about her.  It’s bloody disgraceful behaviour!  But then what else could you expect from a woman!!!

 

THE FLAT TYRE

 

One day last week, I was walkin’ down the road whistlin’ a merry tune, when suddenly I spied with my little eye, a woman lookin’ at this here flat tyre on her car.  Well I don't know what the hell she hoped to achieve from starin’ at it leck that, cos it was hardly gonna repair itself, now was it!  But then, when it comes til cars, weemen know damn all about them, except that they have an accelerator and a steerin’ wheel, although you'd often think that they don't know much about the latter.

Well anyway, to get back til the story, this here dame gave me the sad eye and cos she was such a tasty young bit of stuff and wearin’ such a short skirt, I was all polite and offered me services til her, leck a knight in shinin’ armour rescuin’ a damsel in distress.

But bejaysus, it was an odejious job, let me tell yee.  The nuts on yon wheel was fierce tight and the drum as graysy as hell.  Sure it took me ages and I got all covered in muck and oil.  Of coorse, all the time I was workin’ at this here wheel, she was as sweet as pie and she chattered away til me all friendly leck.  So I asorta got til thinkin’, that she'd maybe taken a wee bit of a shine til me, on account of me bein’ so charmin’ and helpful and all that.

Well anyway, I eventually managed to finish the job and as I got up on til me feet all smiles, I was asorta hopin’, that seein’ as I’d done her a good turn, that maybe she’d now do a good turn for me ..... behind the ditch.  But bejaysus, she just about managed to grunt “thanks”, before jumpin’ intil her car and zoomin’ away off down the road.  Now I wasn't best playsed for a while, but then when I cooled down, I put it down til her bein' in such a hurry and that if I was patient, she’d give me my reward some other time.

Now the next day, there was a terrible steep of rain and within no time at all, I was absolutely wringin’.  So I had no choice but to seek shilter under a tree, hopin’ and prayin’ that someone would come along soon in their car and give me a lift.  But typically of coorse, there wasn’t a soul about.  Aye, whenever you’re out for a stroll on a sunny day, the whoers damn nearly take the arse off yee every couple of minutes, as they roar by in their cars.  But whenever you really want them, sure there’s never a one to be seen.

However, I eventually did hear the sound of a car approachin’ and when I looked round, I saw it was her motor comin’ over the brow of the hill.  Well me heart leapt, let me tell yee, for I was sure I’d be gettin’ me reward sooner than I’d expected.  So I jumped out on til the road with me hand up and a big smile on me face.  But bejaysus, if she didn't whizz right past me through a big puddle and nearly drownd me, before roarin’ away on up the road.  But then what else would you expect from a woman!  The ungrateful wretch!!

 

BLANKET FOLLY

 

One of me neighbours Eddie is a crusty owl bachelor and when I was talkin’ til him theday, he told me a wee tale about blankets. Aye, a lough of weeks before, he heard this rap on the dooer of his wee cottage and when he went to see who it was, he found this very pretty young woman standin’ out on the dooer step. 

Now she was sellin’ blankets and although he had no need for any damned blankets, he was so took by her short skirt, her good looks and the very sociable way she smiled at him, that he began to hatch a wee plan and as a result, he agreed to buy a couple on hire purchase, with payments bein’ collected on a weekly basis. 

“And so what was your wee plan then?” I asked him.

“Well, it was simple,” he replied. “Me idea was that when she came back for to get the first weekly instalment, I'd put it til her straight, that either she went til bed with me, or she could go to hell and take the two blankets away with her!”

My goodness, I could hardly believe me ears.  Although Eddie’d obviously been a handsome enough sorta ram when he was young, bejaysus he’s an awful sight now.  Sure there’s more dirt on him than in a middlin’ sized garden and what wee bit of hair he has, sure it’s goin’ in all directions.  Not only that, but there’s hardly one tooth left in his head and he’s in dire need of a damned good shave.  But to top it all, there’s a bigger stink off him than you'd get off a buck goat.  Sure a more unattractive sight til weemen you couldn't find.  And him over sixty five as well!

“So what happened when she returned for the first instalment,” I asked him.

“Och, sure this here big rough lookin’ hallion turned up instead of her,” he replied, “and he tolt me it’d be him who’d be collectin’ the money every week ..... well, I wasn’t hardly gonna put me proposition til him, now was I! ..... by the way, you wouldn’t be interested in buyin’ a couple of blankets would yee?”

 

PET FOOD

 

I believe there’s some move afoot to stop people from rattlin’ their collection boxes at yee.  Well I think it’s a damned good idea, for there’s nawthin’ more hateful than that odejious carry-on.  Man, there’s days when I’m as wicked as a bag of buck weasels and me nerves are so ragged, that when some clift goes and rattles their owl collection box right under me snout, sure I get that rizz, I’m often sorely tempted to take them by the throat and shake them til their teeth start janglin’ in their head.

Well anyway one day last week, I was goin’ intil the locial suppermarket, when this very thin, gaunt lookin’ woman stopped me.

“Could you spare me some pet food?” she pleaded, lookin’ at me with these big pitiful eyes.  Well I looked at the scrawniness of her and I instantly felt sorry for her, for I thought it was terrible sad, that a woman could have fallen on such hard times and descended til such depths.

So I layned over and whispered in her ear.

“Would you not prefer a wee sandwich?” I asked her, “sure it’d do you a lot more good than atin’ a tin of Kitty Kat.”

Well this here woman instantly looked aghast, before pointin’ at this sign beside her invitin’ people to donate pet food to a locial pet charity.  Well, it was my turn then to look aghast.  So I beetled off inside the store as quick as I could go and I got her a couple of tins of Whiskas!  But sure, it was the least I could do in the circumstances.

 

BLACK BOB, THE WONDER DOG

 

As I was trippin’ down the road the other mornin’, with me flat cap on and me long coat flappin’ in the breeze, I bumped intil me owl mucker Alec, who told me excitedly that he’d just got this new black puppy dog, which he’d named Bob and which, accordin’ til him, was a quare smart young dog, because he’d been able to taych it a whole pile of new tricks already. 

Well I pretended to be interested, although I was really just lookin’ forward til bein’ on me way as soon as possible. But then he invited me in to see him.  Bejaysus, sure me heart sank, for I was in no mood for such eegitry, or any damned mutt slabberin’ about me.  But sure what could I do but folly him intil the house, to see this here wonder dog.

“Right,” said Alec excitedly til this here puppy, “SIT! ..... SIT! ..... SIT!”

Well black Bob the wonder dog must have misunderstood him and thought he’d said somethin’ else, because instead of sittin’ down leck he’d been tolt, he immediately did a nice wee job instead, right there in the middle of Alec’s lovely new carpet.

 

MODERN TECHNOLOGY

 

The world’s goin’ clayne mad, what with all this new technology that’s about.   Aye, there’s all these new fangled gadgets around these days and to be quite honest, I don’t know what the hell the most of them is for.   Now the other day, someone asked me if I’d be gettin’ a mobile phone.  But what sort of a stupid question was that!  Why the hell would I be wantin’ a phone with wee wheels on it!!

As for video recorders, it took me 15 years to work out how to use ours and now I’m told they’re doin’ away with them and replacin’ them with DVD machines.  But as far as I’m concerned, they can keep all this new technology.   If I ever want a new gadget, I make it meself from what bits and pieces I have out in the tool shed.

For example, Mildred’s always complainin’ about the cost of elecatricity and about how I use so much of it watchin’ TV all the time.  So bein’ a bit of an inventor, I came up with this bright idea.   So I got the owl bike, put it on a stand, took the back tyre off and then put a band round the back wheel, before attachin’ it til a wee generator.

Now I thought it was a great idea and was sure Mildred would be fierce playsed.  But naw, not so.  She took one look at it and stalked off, mutterin’ that there was no way she was gonna pedal on that bike for hours on end generatin’ elecatricity.  Och, she’s nawthin’ but a Luddite and an ungrateful wretch!

 

MENOPAUSE

 

It has always been quite clear since the dawn of time, that us men are the superior sex in every sense of the word.  As for that other lot, although they’ve tried their best to imitate and match us boyos, sure all their efforts over the centuries have been laughable and in vain, which is why we mock them for tryin’ to be men and dismiss them contemptuously as bein’ nawthin’ more than ‘wee men’, which is where the term ‘weemen’ originally came from.

But it’s strange you know, although it’s obviously pointless for weemen to try and compete with us men, they never seem to accept that reality and as a result, they never quit tryin’.  However, the struggle eventually always takes its toll on them and they all eventually begin to flag when they get older and that’s when they begin to crack up and start goin’ all odd and peculiar.  

Well many moons ago, there was this group of very frustrated owl weemen, who had got that fed up tryin’ to keep up with us men, that they started a weemen’s movement and they put a rallyin’ cry article in a national newspaper, which started off with the follyin’ words: “Men, oh pause for a while and consider how you can give us women our fair and just rights.”  It then went on to spout a whole pile of other owl nonsense, which is too ludicrous to mention here. 

Now although this here newspaper article was ignored by men, it was read by most weemen, who started to refer to it as the ‘Men, oh pause’ newspaper article. Man, was it not debated far and wide by bitter twisted weemen everywhere!  And whenever any of these here witches got up to praych about weemen’s rights, men used to screw up their faces and instantly dismiss them sneeringly as bein’ yet another one of one of them damned ‘menopause’ weemen. So that’s where the word ‘menopause’ came from.  Aye, when weemen eventually reach that stage in life, when they go all odd and peculiar, men describe them as bein’ weemen who are sufferin’ from the ‘menopause’ syndrome. 

                

BIRTHDAY PRESENTS

 

It was Mildred’s birthday recently and although I don’t normally never buy her nawthin’, I decided to get her two wee things this year, just for a change.

Now the first thing I bought her was a wee pair of sharp scissors, which I thought would be great for trimmin’ that big black moustache what she has on her upper lip. Bejaysus, you should see it.  A regimental sergeant major would be fierce proud of it!

As for the second thing I got her, it was a pair of sheep shears.  It’s not leck we’ve got any sheep about the farm nor nawthin’ leck that.  It’s just that I thought they’d be handy for daylin’ with those big, bushy armpits of her.  Jaysus, they’re an awful bloody sight!  But not only that, I hate it when she raises her arm, for I’m desperate scarred a rat or summat awful’s gonna lepp out at me.

Well anyway, Mildred wasn’t none too happy with me two presents. But then that’s hardly surprisin’. I mane you just couldn’t playse weemen, now could youse boys.

But the present that surprised me the most was the one me daughter Martha bought.  When I asked Martha a couple of weeks before Mildred’s birthday what she was gonna get her, she tolt me that she’d already bought her a two week fishin’ holiday away up the country, which surprised me no end, because whereas I love fishin’, I know for a fact that Mildred hates it.  But I didn’t pass no remarks about it at the time.

Now when it came til the day of Mildred’s birthday, Martha came round with the present.  But instead of givin’ the envelope with all the holiday stuff in it til Mildred, she gave it til me instead, which totally confused me.  So I took Martha til one side.

“Look Martha,” said I til her, “it’s not my birthday theday you know, it’s your ma’s.”  Well bejaysus, she rared up at me somethin’ desperate.

“Do you think I’m some kind of a bloody eegit or somethin’!” she roared. “Of coorse I know it’s me ma’s birthday theday.”

“Well,” said I back til her, “why are you givin’ the fishin’ holiday til ME, rather than her then?”

“Because,” she replied, “when you go away on that there fishin’ holiday, me ma’ll get two whole weeks total pace from yee, you miserable owl whoer yee ..... and what better birthday present could I give her than that!!”

Well Jaysus, have youse ever hear the lecks of that in all your life! I mane, do your daughters talk til youse ones leck that.  My goodness, the chillder of the theday have absolutely no respect whatsoever for their elders and betters!

 

DOG’S POO

 

Although where I live is a very nice town, there’s one wee sneg about it: there’s an awful lot of dog’s poo on the streets.  This manes that when I’m wanderin’ about stickin’ me neb intil other people’s business, I always have to keep lookin’ down, for to make sure I avoid it and don’t step in it. 

The bonus of this however, is that I find all the small change that the chillder don’t leck carryin’ about in their pockets and which they therefore toss out on til the ground.  Aye, it’s nice wee way of makin’ money, let me tell yee and last year, I earned £18.74 before tax. 

But to get back til the dog’s poo, no matter how careful I am, there inevitably comes that time, when I’m walkin’ along and I lift me eyes momentarily from the pavement and bejaysus next thing, I feel that dreaded wee skid, which always only ever manes one thing - that me foot has come intil contact with a nice big mound of revoltin’ dog’s poo.

Well although it’s disgustin’, most people can nearly always wipe it off on the side of the kerb or on a clump of grass. But the thing that really sickens my arse, is that when it happens til me, I’m nearly always wearin’ me Doctor Martens with those big deep treads on the soles and as a result, kerbstones and clumps of grass are no damned use at all for claynin’ it off.

But with regard til them ones that don’t clayne up after their mutts, I often wonder what they themselves think, when they experience that dreaded wee skid themselves.

 

RECYCLIN’ BOXES

 

With regard til them recyclin’ boxes that the council’s given us, one of me neighbours recently told me that she doesn’t put their empty beer cans and cider bottles in theirs and when I asked her why not, she wouldn’t say.  But I reckon it’s cos she’s afeared that if she did, then them boys on the recyclin’ lorry would quickly spread the word around the whole town, that “them ones that live at no 9 Eegits Row are desperate boozers!”.  Well if that is her raison, she should folly my example and do what I do.  Now although my box is always full of empty porter and whisky bottles, nobody would ever know that I touched a drop. This is because my next dooer neighbour is a teetotal Methodist praycher and I always switch my box with his on collection day - when he’s not lookin’ of coorse.  

But do you know the way you can make people feel very uncomfortable, when you stop and study the contents of their suppermarket trolleys with contempt.  Well you can achieve the same result by lookin’ intil their recyclin’ boxes.  That’s why I always look forward til recyclin’ day. 

Aye, I wander about and when I spy one of these here boxes, I stop and stare at it until I’m sure the owner is lookin’ out the windy at me.  I then bend down and take the lid off the box, before straightenin’ up again.  The next thing I do is stare down at the contents of the box and shake me head disdainfully from side til side.  I even take bottles and cans out and hold them up for all the whole world to have a damned good look at.  Then, when I’m sure I’ve got the box owners rizz good and proper, I move on til me next victim.

Now although this annoys people no end, very few of them come out and have a go at me. This is because they know that if they do, I’ll go and get me Rottweiler and set it on them.  Aye, Mildred certainly does have her uses.

 

BOB THE BLOW

 

While I was walkin’ down the lane yisterday mornin’, it was me misfortune to bump intil this owl farmer who’s called Bob the Blow, on account of him forever blowin’ about what a great man he is and all the marvellous things he’s ever done.  Now he was carryin’ a shotgun and when I asked him what he was up til, he told me he was out after magpies.

“And how many have you shot so far theday then?” I asked him.

“49,” he replied nonchalantly.

“49!” I exclaimed incredulously.

“Aye,” he replied, “and all of them with just the one cat-erich.”

“You shot 49 magpies with just the one cartridge!” I retorted in total amazement.

“Aye,” he said most proudly, “just the one cat-erich.”

“And how the hell did you manage that?” I asked him all puzzled.

“Well you see,” he replied, “I came across this here tree and my goodness, but there was 49 magpies sittin’ up on the one branch.”

“49 magpies sittin’ up on the one branch!”

“Aye,” he replied, “so I raised me gun ..... and after aimin’ real careful-leck, I pulled the tricker ..... and the whole 49 fell deed at me feet ..... all with only the one shot!”

“My goodness,” I exclaimed, “that was an absolutely amazin’ feat Bob ..... but here, when you’re tellin’ people about this feat, why don’t you just round the figure up from 49 til 50 magpies.”  He looked at me all aghast.

“What!” he retorted, all shocked.  “Och, sure I wouldn’t tell a lie about one bird.”         

 

THE OWL CLOCK

 

One day, when I went up til King Artur's Court for to visit me owl mucker Artur, I found him busy tryin’ to fix this here owl clock.  I immediately looked round for Artur's wife May, but he tolt me that she was messin’ about out the back somewhere.  Well when I heard that I was fierce playsed, cos it meant me and Artur'd be fit to talk freely, without her continually stickin’ her oar in.  However, no sooner had Artur sat me down near the big roarin’ fire, than the kitchen dooer opened and May stuck her head in and nodded at me with a divilish look on her face.

“Well,” she cackled, “is that owl clock goin yit?”  Artur shook his head and replied “naw” before he started takin’ it til pieces yet again.

“Och, this is about the tenth time you've started takin’ it til pieces ..... are you never gonna to get it to go at all?”  Artur shook his head defiantly.

“Look,” he said, “this here owl clock is definitely gonna go, let there be no doubt about that at all!”  But May didn't look none too convinced and she disappeared out the back again.

“Now before we go any further Mickle, would yee leck a wee sup?” he asked. But then he realised that that was one damned foolish question for to be askin’ me and so without waitin’ for a reply, he went away intil another room and returned in no time at all with a bottle of what looked leck water.

“Here,” he said, “have a wee drop of the craytur ..... I got it yisterday.”  Well as soon as Artur mentioned the word ‘craytur’, I knew he'd laid his hands on some poteen.  He then got a tall glass and he put a drop of lemon intil it, some sugar and a good pour of the craytur.  He then filled the whole glass with hot water from the kettle on the range, before givin’ it all a damned good stir.

“There you are,” he said, “that's such good stuff, it'd even put hairs on a woman's chest!”  And I took a sip and found it was indeed the real McCoy.

Now as we chattered merrily away, he continued workin’ on this here owl clock and when he had it all reassembled yet again, he gave it a couple of shakes. But bejaysus, despite all his efforts, the damned thing still wouldn't go tick-tock.  It was at that point that May reappeared yet again.

“Och, that owl clock’s never gonna go,” she sneered and with that she disappeared out the back again, hootin’ with mockin’ laughter.  Artur sighed and shook his head.

“She seems determined to annoy yee theday, Artur!” I said.  Artur shook his head from side til side and smiled.

“But not any more,” he said. And with that, he arose from his chair, grabbed a holt of the clock and he made his way across the kitchen til the back dooer, where he put the clock down on the step.

“Well, is that owl clock goin yet?” asked May yet again, with a sneer all over her chops. Artur looked over at her in amongst the pigs.

“Aye, it's goin all right,” he replied ..... and with that, he drew back his foot ..... and kicked it half way up the yard. 

 

DUSTIN’

 

Man, I hate it when Mildred starts dustin’!  There I am, sittin’ in a haype watchin’ TV in the front room and in she comes, with that dreaded duster in her hand.  Well what with all her bobbin’ and weavin’ about and her hummin’ away, that’s the end of me watchin’ the TV.

But what a performance!  Firstly, all the owl ornaments have to be lifted and put til one side, before the actual dustin’ begins.  Now if it was down til me, it’d be one quick wipe and that’d be it.  But not her.  Instead she slowly wipes the dust very carefully intil a dust pan.  You see, her theory is that if you just run a duster over a surface, the dust only goes up in the air, before settlin’ back down a wee while later. So she believes that the ONLY real way to get rid of dust is to actually GET RID of it.  So it ALL has to go OUT of the house and intil the bin.

You know, she once told me that the majority of dust is actually wee tiny bits of human skin.  Well that started me athinkin’.  Now if your house was previously occupied by other people and has never been dusted properly, then all their microscopic bits and pieces’ll be there too.  What a thought!  I mane, it’s bad enough havin’ to share me house with Mildred, let alone a whole pile of other people as well!  So I suppose her way of dustin’ IS actually the best way. 

Now with all this sunny weather we’ve been havin’, I’m feelin’ fierce druthy. The only sneg is I can’t go til the pub, cos I’m short of funds.  So if any of youse have a dust problem, just slip me a few quid and I’ll send Mildred round for to sort youse out.

 

EYEBROWS

 

What are eyebrows for?  Now your nose is for stickin’ intil other people’s business, your eyes are for keepin’ a close watch on what your neighbours are up til and your ears are for listenin’ til all the locial gossip.  Furthermore, nearly all the other bits and bobs on your body seem to have some definite purpose.  But eyebrows, I just can’t think what they’re for.

Well anyway, I asked me owl mate Aristotle about it one day and he suggested that maybe we have them to stop the sweat from our brow runnin’ intil our eyes.  Well that theory could be true enough as far as weemen is concerned, because they’re born to work and so you’d expect the sweat to be baylin’ off them.  But us men, we’re born to take it aisy and as a result, we never ever break out intil sweat.  So that theory obviously can’t be right as far as us boyos is concerned. 

But anyway, eyebrows is a damned nuisance.  For example, when I’m sittin’ watchin’ TV, I can hardly see anythin’, because it’s leck lookin’ through a couple of owl bushes hangin’ over me eyes!

 

FARTIN’

 

Have youse ever wondered why weemen are nearly always in such bad humour?  Well, I know the answer – and it’s quite simple. You see, contrary til what all weemen would have you believe, they actually do fart, just the same as us boyos.  The only difference is that they don’t do it while they’re in company. 

Whereas we men just let rip any time we feel the need, they have to hold it in till they’re on their own.  My goodness, it must be torture for them.  So you see, if you walked around continually with clenched buttocks, would you not be in fierce bad humour all the time too!

 

GRUMPY OWL WEEMEN

 

Grumpy owl weemen!  Well Mildred’s certainly one of them all right!  But not only is she fierce grumpy, she’s jumpy, stumpy, frumpy, lumpy, as well as bein’ desperate humpy too. Man, you just couldn’t playse her!

Now I don’t have a clue as til why it is, but she has a sour owl face on her the whole damned time.  In fact, I sometimes have to get the photie album out and have a look at that photie of her when she was still young, free and single, for to remind me of what she looked leck, when she smiled.

 

THE GRUMPINESS BEFORE THE STORM

 

Although Mildred’s always grumpy, I have this very unaisy feelin’ that I’m goin’ to experience somethin’ a lot worse in the not too distant future.  It’s all to do with that piggy bank of hers, which she keeps on the dresser and intil which she puts all the loose change from her purse.

Now there’s manys the time when I’m in desperate bad need of a cure, but have no entrance fee intil the pub.  So whenever she’s out tarmacin’ the lane up til the house, or buildin’ a byre or whatever, I take the opportunity to unscrew that yoke on the bottom of the piggy bank.  I then extract all her money and replace it with metal washers, so she’ll be none the wiser.

But somethin’ is tellin’ me, that the proverbial you know what is gonna hit the fan any day now, when she empties her piggy bank and finds all the money has gone. In fact, every time she goes anywhere near that there piggy bank, I start edgin’ towards the dooer.  However, I’ll keep youse posted on what happens – that’s if I’m still alive of coorse!

 

SAINT MILDRED

 

The mane raison I married Mildred was because she had a great figure – aye, a great figure in the bank!!!  She wasn’t short of a bob or two, let me tell yee.  Boys a dear, it did me heart good to watch her herdin’ her dowry of 25 cows the 8 miles from her home til mine.  However, although I was happy enough to keep the cows, I just wish I could have returned her as faulty goods.

But I’m sure youse ones must think I’m desperate hard on Mildred and if you ever met her and larnt all about the good deeds she does for all our neighbours, you’d probably think she was a saint, who deserved to go til heaven.  But don’t be fooled; it’s all a front! 

Aye, Mildred has an ulterior motive for bein’ such a saint.  You see, she’s convinced that I’m already doomed to go til hell and after sufferin’ so many years of hell with me already, she doesn’t want to go there again.  So she’s doin’ all she can to ensure that when she kicks the bucket, she’ll be sent til heaven and not til hell, to be with me, for eternity.

 

GOLDIE

 

When I recently heard Victoria Beckham bummin’ on about how many fabulous friends she has, I decided to count all me friends on me fingers.  However, I never got past me second finger.  Aye, I’ve only two friends – Goldie and me shadow, who’s been with me every step of the way through life.

Now Goldie is me goldfish and him and me have a lot in common.  For example, we’re both good for nawthin’ eegits, who spend all day goin’ round and round in circles.  Furthermore, while his house is his goldfish bowl, from where he looks out ontil the world all day long, my house is my goldfish bowl, where I go from windy til windy, lookin’ out ontil the world all day long.

Well anyway, I used to feel fierce sorry for Goldie, because I felt he led a desperate dreary borin’ life, goin’ round and round yon bowl all day long.  Of coorse, I used to try and lighten his day by talkin’ til him.  But sure he was leck everyone else ..... he just ignored me!

But now someone’s just told me that a goldfish only has a 5 second memory span, which means in effect, that every time he sets off on another round of his bowl, sure he’s actually startin’ off on yet another brand new journey of adventure, full of excitin’ and interestin’ sights.  So I no longer feel at all sorry for Goldie.  In fact to be quite honest, I feel desperate envious of him!

 

EGGS

 

It was always my understandin’ that if an egg floats in water, it manes that the egg is bad. I was therefore fierce surprised when I heard some owl doll statin’ the opposite recently and that a floatin’ egg indicates that it’s fresh.  Now I was sure she was just talkin’ a whole load of owl ballocks and that’s why I decided I would check it out on the intronet, where I came up with the follyin’:

“Why do some eggs float in water?

Old eggs float in water because of a large air cell. The air cell forms as the egg cools after bein’ laid and, as the egg ages, air enters the egg and the air cell becomes larger, which makes the egg float.”

But if anyone still has any doubts, I would suggest that they carry out the follyin’ experiment. First of all, loiter round a chicken run and when you eventually hear a chicken goin’ bonkers, you’ll know it has just laid an egg, which you should immediately retrieve and place in a bowl of water.  You’ll then see that although the tip of the egg may point towards the surface of the water, the vast majority of it will be below the water surface. 

To complete the experiment, you should hold on til the same egg and after say 6 months, place it in a bowl of water and you will see that the egg now floats on the water surface. 

Now, if any man should happen to drop the egg ontil the flooer durin’ this latter part of the experiment, I would suggest they make a bee-line for the kitchen dooer and layve it til the wife to clear up the mess, because I can tell yee from experience, that the smell is absolutely odejious.

But while I’m on the subject of eggs, someone told me the other day that if you want to find out if an egg is soft or hard-boiled, you should spin it on a worktop, because if it’s hard it’ll not spin much, but if it’s soft it’ll keep on spinnin’, on account of the liquid in it.

Well anyway, I decided I’d leck a boiled egg the other day, but because I didn’t want to take a chance on Sam and Ella comin’ til me dooer, I decided I’d better boil it hard.  So after the egg had been in the boilin’ water for a while, I took it out and span it on the worktop.  Well it was still soft for it kept spinnin’.  However, the only sneg was that it span that much that it span right off the worktop and on til the flooer, where it shattered intil smithereens and spattered the whole of me trousers with yella yoke.  So I didn’t bother havin’ an egg after all!

 

URBAN MYTH?

 

I have heard it on the QT, that the government has become so concerned about the declinin’ numbers of criminals bein’ detected and convicted, that they are gonna introduce a drastic new measure in the next year or so, which will dramatically improve the situation in the long term. 

It will eventually involve the insertion of a microchip intil the heads of all human bein’s.  However, they’ve decided that because it would be too costly and inconvenient to microchip everyone at the same time, these microchips will initially only be implanted intil the heads of all new born babes. Then, with the aid of satellites, they’ll be able to track every single move a microchipped person makes throughout their lifetime and if they commit a crime, the police will know it was them. For example, if a crime is committed by a microchipped person at point X at 12.43 p.m. on a certain day, police computers will be able to tell who it was who was there at that precise point in time.

Obviously it’s goin’ to take many years before the whole population is ‘chipped’, but there will eventually come a time, when virtually all crimes will be almost instantly resolvable and all criminals detected and convicted.  The other advantage of this scheme is that its very existence will deter people from committin’ crimes, because they’ll know damned fine that they’ll definitely be caught if they do somethin’ bad.

The one downside however, is that in order for the signal from the microchips to be picked up by satellites, they will also have to insert an aerial intil the heads of all those ‘chipped’ babes.  So if any of youse ones are plannin’ on havin’ chillder, but don’t want them runnin’ about with wee aerials stickin’ out of their heads, then I would suggest that you start couplin’ right away and make sure you have your ba before the government introduces this new measure.

 

ALBERT AND THE PRAYCHER

 

Me boozy mate Albert was recently invited til a weddin’ which was conducted by a very staid praycher, who was staunchly teetotal and regarded booze as bein’ the divil’s own brew.  Now after the marriage service and just before the reception, most people retired til the bar for a quick drink which the married couple was payin’ for. 

Needless to say, Albert was first til the bar and he ordered himself a drink. Then, just as the barman was servin’ it up til him, the praycher came intil the bar lookin’ for the bride's da.  Albert immediately turned til him.

“Now what would you leck to drink?” he asked him.  The praycher recoiled in horror, before rapidly movin’ on.  The barman looked at Albert and shook his head vigorously.

“Och, that man’d rather commit adultery than have a drink!” he said til Albert. 

“What!” said Albert back til the barman. “Here, take my drink back ..... I didn't know there was a choice.” 

 

COTTAGE WALLS

 

Things is so different these days from when I was a young man.  Aye, though life was hard them days, it was an awful lot simpler and generally spaykin’, we was happy with the little we had.  And another thing, the most of us didn’t have mortgages and there wasn’t no credit cards, nor nawthin’ leck that.  So although most people was poor, they wasn’t up til their eyes in debt, leck what they are these days.  So at the end of each week, we could spend all our wages enjoyin’ ourselves.  Aye, Christmas used to come every weekend for us boys them days.

But it’s all different now.  These days, all the youngsters want nawthin’ but the best and they want it immediately, no matter what it costs, or what debt it gets them intil.  And as for newly-weds, they all want to live in spankin’ new houses with all the latest modcons.  So if you offered them one of those owl abandoned cottages up the mountain for nawthin’, my goodness but if they wouldn’t turn their noses up at your offer straightaway.  

However, what they don’t realise is that a whole pile of those there owl cottages have walls that are built with money.  Aye, this is because a lot of them was occupied by crusty owl bachelors a long time ago and in them days, a whole pile of them didn't trust banks.  So they used to hide their money behind stones in the walls of their cottages and of coorse, when all these owl bucks died, sure they left their money behind them.  Aye, there's plenty of money to be found up in those owl cottages ..... if only you just knew where to look!

 

MALONE ROAD

 

Now for those of youse who don’t know, there’s a road in Belfast called the Malone Road and when I was talkin’ til me wise owl mucker Aristotle theday, he told me where the name came from.

Apparently when King Billy first arrived in Belfast, after a brave few gruellin’ days on the road, his troops was all so weary that he told them they could take it aisy and rest over the next few days.  He then slipped away for to do a wee bit of shoppin’. 

But on his way til Smithfield Market for to look for some bargains, someone told him that there was far better 2 for 1 offers goin’ at Lisburn market, but that if he wanted to avail himself of them he’d have to hurry, because they was goin’ leck hot cakes.  So he immediately rushed back til his men and told them that there’d been a change of plans and that they’d have to go til Lisburn that very day.  Well although his men was all exhausted, sure they had no choice but to comply with his wishes. 

However, they’d only gone a short way down the road, when King Billy suddenly took it intil his head that he wanted to deviate from the main route and go up this owl by-road, for to see where it’d lead and what it was leck up there.

Well it was at this point that his exasperated generals gathered round him on his big white horse and told him that he should stick til the main route, as it was shorter and would be a lot less strenuous on all his extremely tired foot soldiers.

Now King Billy was a stubborn man and as a result, he was totally determined to go up this other road.  But he eventually saw their point of view and so he agreed til a compromise.

“Okay,” he said til the generals, “you and all the men continue on down the main road there ..... and I’ll go up here on ma lone.”  So thereafter, that there road was called Malone Road. 

By the way, by the time they got til Lisburn, sure those great 2 for 1 bargains was all gone!

 

DIETIN’

 

One sunny mornin’ I was sittin’ in me comfy armchair in the front room, studyin’ the horses in the paper and enjoyin’ a big mug of sweet tay, while I chomped me way through an enormous plate of chocolate biscuits and sticky buns.  Man, was I not as happy as a wee pig in shite.  Aye, things had been goin’ desperate well of late and everythin’ in the garden looked fierce rosy.  But then as per usual, Mildred just had to go and spoil it all.

“Right,” she suddenly announced after burstin’ intil the room, “I’ve been listenin’ til a doctor on the radio talkin’ about the dangers of bein’ overweight and everythin’ what she said made sense ..... so I think the time’s right to folly her advice about goin’ on a diet!”

I looked at Mildred over the top of me newspaper leck as if she was mad, because the way I saw it, there was absolutely no need for her to go on a diet. I mane, what with her forever diggin’ trenches, buildin’ byres, climbin’ up trees and loppin’ off the tops of them with a chain saw, luggin’ bags of coal on her shoulder the three miles up from our wee town and so on, sure she’s as trim and as tidy a wee woman as you’d ever see.  Man, she’s every cannibal’s nightmare, for there’s not a pick on her.

“Och, you don’t need to go on no diet,” said I.

“Aye, I agree with you entirely,” she retorted, “but it’s not me who’s goin’ on a diet ..... it’s you! ..... doin’ nawthin’ all day long, except stuffin’ your face and layin’ about in a haype in front of that there telly, sure you’re miles overweight.” I looked at her all aghast.

“What!!! ..... me go on a diet!” I cried, “no chance, no chance at all, at all ..... anyway, it’s only weemen who goes on a diet ..... men never go on no diet.”

“Well that’s not true at all,” she replied, “there’s piles of men go on a diet these days.”  I shook me head.

“Look Mildred,” I growled dismissively, “if you can show me one man from around these parts, who’s gonna go on a diet, then I promise you that I’ll join him and go on a diet as well.”

Now I was hopin’ that’d shut her up.  But bejaysus, the next thing was she suddenly looked til her right and scarred the wits out of me by lettin’ a blood curdlin’ scrayke out of her, that would have put a banshee til shame.  I immediately looked til me left, expectin’ to see a mad man with an upraised axe or summat.  But sure all I saw was the reflection of meself in the mirror on the wall.

“There you are,” chortled Mildred triumphantly, “you’ve just seen a man from around these parts, who’s gonna go on a diet ..... so you’ll have to live up til your promise and go on a diet!”

“Och, I’m not goin’ on no diet,” I roared defiantly, “so there you are ..... let that be the end of it.” Mildred’s face turned intil stone.

“Right me man,” she said coldly, “you have a choice ..... you can either go on a diet ..... or you can larn how to cook and feed yourself!” And with that she stormed out of the room. 

Well anyway, that was a couple of weeks ago.  As for me diet, it’s bloody awful.  But havin’ said that, it’s still a whole pile better than starvin’ til death!!!

 

THE BAR OF CHOCOLATE

 

One of the many snegs about bein’ a grandparent is that you’re often called upon for to baby-sit grandchillder.

Now one black, wet, windy, cowl afternoon, me daughter Annie dropped by with her wee cuttie Susie and she persuaded Mildred to go shoppin’ with her in the big city.  Well I thought this was a great idea, because I assumed it’d mane that I’d get a lough of hours pace from the owl witch, which was gonna suit me just fine, as there was racin’ on the telly.  However, me dreams about a nice quiet afternoon in front of the telly was shattered, when I was tolt that Susie was bein’ left behind and that I was to entertain her.

Me heart sank leck a stone, for I knew from past experience what was gonna happen next.  I mane, how does an owl whoer leck me keep a 10 year old cuttie amused?  For a start, she has absolutely no interest at all in horse racin’ and as for me, I can’t stand Monopoly, Inspector Cluedo and all that other owl shite.  But anyway, after Mildred and Annie left, I took young Susie intil the front room in the sorta forlorn hope that she’d sit in a corner and keep her trap shut, so that I could watch the racin’ in pace.

But naw, she twisted and turned and moaned and gerned and complained she was bored and asked me a whole pile of odejious silly questions, about all sorts of nonsense. Bejaysus, I couldn’t get concentratin’ on one damned race!  But then I had a great idea.

“Hey Susie,” I said til her, “how do you fancy walkin’ down intil the town ..... and gettin’ me a really big bar of chocolate?” And I gave her a big wink.  She immediately perked up.

“Aye, okay,” she replied all excited.  So I gave her the money and she went out of the house intil the wind and the rain to walk the three miles down intil our wee town, for to get this here big, big bar of chocolate.  Bejaysus, pace descended upon the house and I was able to get back til me racin’.  Man, it was heaven.

Well anyway, about two hours later, young Susie reappeared.  Man, she was soaked through and looked leck a drownded rat.  I gave her a big smile.

“Did you get the big bar of chocolate all right?” I asked her, holdin’ out me hand.  She nodded and as she handed it over til me, she had a big expectant smile all over her wee face for some raison.

“Ta very much,” said I til her, before turnin’ back til the TV.  I ripped open the wrappin’ on the chocolate and devoured the first four squares with one bite.  

I then heard a pitiful whimper and when I looked round, there she was standin’ beside me.  The poor wee divil, so small and frail, soaked til the skin and shiverin’, with her hair all wet and bedraggled and her wee pale face all covered in spatters of mud.  But it was her big blue eyes that really got me - they looked so sad.  Me heart melted.  I looked down at the big, big bar of chocolate and then back at those huge doleful eyes.  I then broke off a square and I gave it til her, before turnin’ back til the racin’ and scoffin’ the rest of me big bar of chocolate.

 

THE GALWAY SHAWL

 

I was listen’ til the raddio yisterday, when they suddenly played ‘The Galway Shawl’ and my, did it not remind me of a dance I went til at Orenmore in the County Galway, one pleasant evenin’ in the month of May, many, many years ago. 

Aye, I mind it well. There I was all alone and feelin’ desperate lonesome, when I suddenly spied this here damsel; man, she was young and handsome and her beauty fairly took my breath away.  Not only that, but she wore no paint nor powder, no, none at all.  However, what really attracted me til her was the fact that she wore no jewels, nor costly diamonds, which indicated til me, that if we became an item, she'd probably be low maintenance.  However, I must say that she was dressed a wee bit odd-leck for a dance, cos she was wearin' a bonnet with a ribbon on it and around her shoulder was a Galway Shawl.

Now when the band started playin' ‘The Galway Shawl’, I took that to be an omen that me and her should get together and as shy as I was, I went over til her and asked her for a dance.  Well not only did she agree, but she stayed with me til the end of the night.  But what made it even better was she said “aye”, when I suggested that I walk her home.  My goodness, me heart leapt with joy.

Now as were walkin’, she kept on talkin’ and when her father's cottage came intil view, she said til me: “Come in, sir, and meet my father and play to please him ‘The Foggy Dew’.”

When we went inside there was no sign of her da, cos he was in the loo.  So me darlin’ sat me down beside the fire and soon her mother had the kettle singin’.  Now it had been my intention that when her father appeared, I’d play ‘The Blackbird’ and ‘The Stack of Barley’, ‘Rodney's Glory’ and ‘The Foggy Dew’, with me darlin’ singin' each note like an Irish linnet, whilst the tears stood in her eyes of blue.  I also had this here romantic notion, that when her father’d meet me and hear me play, he’d throw his arms around me, call me “son” and invite me intil the bosom of his family.  But things didn’t quite work out leck that.  For a start, when I first clapped eyes on him, not only was he six feet tall, but my goodness, he was the roughest, wildest lookin’ hallion, I’d ever seen in me whole life.

Well anyway, although I gave him a wee bit of a sickly sweet smile, bejaysus but if he didn’t take one look at me and then rush over, grab me by the scruff of the neck and the sayte of me trousers and heelball me out of the cottage and intil the yard. He then proceeded to frogmarch me the whole way down the lane and when I looked over me shoulder to get one last glimpse of me darlin’, she was standin’ by the cottage dooer.

“Goodbye, sir,” she cried and then blew me a kiss.

When her father got me down til the main road, he gave me such a big kick up the arse to help me on me way, that it lifted me clayne off the ground and when I came down, I certainly hit the road for old Donegal with some clump, let me tell yee!

And so that’s why, me heart has remained with that there Galway shawl till now.

 

THE GALWAY SHAWL

(the original lyrics)

 

At Orenmore in the County Galway,

One pleasant evenin’ in the month of May,

I spied a damsel, she was young and handsome

Her beauty fairly took my breath away.

 

Chorus: She wore no jewels, nor costly diamonds,

No paint or powder, no, none at all.

But she wore a bonnet with a ribbon on it

And round her shoulder was a Galway Shawl.

 

We kept on walkin’, she kept on talkin’,

'Till her father's cottage came into view.

Says she: “Come in, sir, and meet my father,

And play to please him ‘The Foggy Dew’.”

 

She sat me down beside the fire

I could see her father, he was six feet tall.

And soon her mother had the kettle singin’

All I could think of was the Galway shawl.

 

I played ‘The Blackbird’ and ‘The Stack of Barley’,

‘Rodney's Glory’ and ‘The Foggy Dew’,

She sang each note like an Irish linnet.

Whilst the tears stood in her eyes of blue.

 

'Twas early, early, all in the mornin’,

When I hit the road for old Donegal.

'Goodbye, sir,' she cried and kissed me,

And my heart remained with that Galway shawl.

 

DREAM HOME

 

No doubt youse have heard of the term ‘dream home’.  Well there was one time, when me and me brothers was only young cubs and we temporarily became homeless.  However, not only did me ma soon find a place for us to rent, but it turned out to be my dream home.

It was a fantastic mansion of a place, situated about 2 miles off the main road and sittin’ on a hill, with forests til the left and the right and a fantastic view of Lough Erne, straight out the front.  Mind you, there was no runnin’ water nor elecatricity, but sure what did we care.  If we wanted water, all we had to do was pump some up from the well.  As for lightin’, sure the oil lamps and candles was more than sufficient.  Aye, when we was in the livin’ room at night, it was great sittin’ there in the flickerin’ candlelight, in front of the big roarin’ log fire, as snug as wee bugs in a rug.

I have lovely memories of that place; the carpet of bluebells stretchin’ out across the cool, dark, silent forest flooer for as far as the eye could see; the foxes, badgers, hedgehogs, birds and all sorts of other livin’ creatures roamin’ about; the early Sunday mornin’ journeys by cot across the lough til the church on the other side and the mysterious little island we passed, which had a wee tower on it and which I so wanted to explore, but never got the chance.  [I larned subsequently that this was Crichton Tower on Gad Island]

Then there was that one and only Halloween night that we was there, when we lit a big bonefire and as we sat round it enjoyin’ the warmth, our potatoes baked in the glowin’ ashes.  Now at Christmas, there was the big Christmas tree which me da’d cut down in the forest, with real candles on it and as for the turkey, it was cooked in the log-burnin’ stove.  And one time this here pig escaped from the smugglers and sought refuge in our home.  That grunter became our beloved pet and wherever we went, it follyed us leck a dog.  Aye, us cubs had the great times, ridin’ about on yon boyo’s back. 

Then there was that time the sparrowhawk swooped down ontil the wood pigeon and although we created such a commotion that the hawk dropped the pigeon, the poor wee thing was unfortunately deed by the time we got til it.  Man, was we not upset!  But we didn’t grieve too long and me ma roasted it for our tea.  And when we rode the two miles til the main road for to catch the school bus, we used to have to layve our wee bikes in this farmer’s shed and he had this awful fierce lookin’ dog, that used to bark at us and scar the wits out of us.  But sure it was only a barkin’ dog and we never got ate.

One time, I asked me elder brother to buy me a lough of sweets on his way home from school and I opened a wee sweet shop in the house.  However, the only sneg was that I had no customers and so I had to ate all the sweets meself.  Then me younger brother and I started a private detective agency.  But that sort of petered out too, because the only case we ever got was lookin’ for some owl tool me da had lost and to be quite honest, it was a job that didn’t appeal to us boyos, cos we was only really interested in solvin’ murders, detectin’ bank robbers, ketchin’ spies and excitin’ things leck that.

Aye, I have so many other beautiful memories from that wonderful place.  We had the time of our lives there and were quare and sad when we had to layve a year later.  I talked about me dream home for manys the long year afterwards.  Then one time, I decided to go back down Memory Lane with me then girlfriend.   However, when we drove down the 2 mile lane til the house, sure it was no longer there, not one single brick left standin’.  I felt so sad it was gone and tears came til me eyes.  Me girlfriend took me hand.

“Don’t be too upset,” she said gently, “as along as you are alive, it will always still be there ..... in your heart.”

 

BOXBINITIS

 

I was sufferin’ that bad recently from stress, anxiety and total confusion that I went to see me doctor, who informed me that I am yet another victim of a medical condition called BOXBINITIS, which is apparently sweepin’ the whole country.  Now this really is one desperate desaize, let me tell yee!  You see the trouble is that I have a black box, a red box, a brown wheelie bin and a dark grey wheelie bin and not only am I forever trippin’ over them the whole damned time, but I can never remember what the hell I’m meant to put in each of them, or when I’m supposed to layve them out for emptyin’.  So I tolt the doctor that I’d got this desaize so bad, that if I couldn’t get cured, I’d go clayne mad altogether!

Well although I was asorta hopin’ that the quack’d be able to give me somethin’ for it, he tolt me that there’s no real cure for it yit and as a result, I had to come home empty-handed, except for an owl leaflet which listed all the locial support groups out there for victims of this here condition Boxbinitis.  Well I wasn’t gonna go til no support group, so I just put the leaflet intil the black box, which is for recyclin’ paper, tins and plastic bottles.

But then I had a brainwave and I’m real playsed to say that I have now fully recovered from it and I’m feelin’ a whole pile better. This is because I found a cure for it.  Aye, I handed the whole boxes and bins job over til me wife Mildred.

Mind you, she wasn’t best playsed at first, but once she stopped gernin’, she got stuck intil it in her usual fierce positive way.  First of all, she decided that all these here bins and boxes needed a home of their own and so she built a wee outhouse from breeze blocks and put a fine slated roof on it, with gutterin’ besides.  And it’s a damned good job, let me tell yee.  But then of coorse, she’s had years of experience buildin’ byres, barns, outhouses and the leck around the farm, so what else would yee expect.

Well the next thing was she put these big charts and timetables up on the kitchen wall, so she can monitor the whole operation and ensure that she never makes no mistakes. Then, when it comes til a collection day, it don’t matter if it’s bucketin’ cats and dogs, she lugs the damned bin or box the whole way down our lane til the main road, before rushin’ back til the house for to make me ma breakfast and then bring it til me in ma bed. 

So you there are - problem solved!  Now, if there are any other men out there who’s sufferin’ from Boxbinitis, they should do what I did and they’ll be all right in no time.  But doesn’t this all just illustrate how obvious it is, that the obvious is rarely obvious.

 

CORNER BOY

 

Many moons ago when I was unemployed, I became a corner boy. Every mornin’, I used to layve the house and wander up and down the streets of our wee town, wonderin’ what the hell I was gonna do with meself all day.  Now if I'd had an entrance fee on me, I’d have gone intil the pub and hung about in there the whole day.  But as I never had one penny piece, I didn’t never have no choice, but to stand on the street corner and watch the cars goin’ up and down. 

Now it often used to make me feel fierce depressed, for I knew that unless things changed for the better, I'd end up spendin’ the rest of me life just standin’ on street corners watchin’ cars goin’ up and down.  Then eventually, when someone'd ask me on me deathbed, what I'd done with me life, sure I’d have no choice but to ruefully reply: “Nawthin’, except watch 10 million cars go by.”

Now back then, every day was more or less the same as the day before.  However, there was the odd one that was different from the rest and I mind one such day in particular.  There I was, standin’ on the street corner feelin’ very low and when I opened me mouth for to yawn, bejaysus but if a dirty big black fly didn't zoom in and go straight down me throat.  Well, what wee bit of resolve I had left, just vanished.

“Bejaysus that fly had the whole of Ireland to fly around,” I lamented mournfully til meself, “and yit the whoer just had to go and fly intil me mouth and down me throat!”  My goodness, but I thought the whole world was agin me and man, did it not fill me with even more self-pity than before.

But then somethin’ happened that raised me spirits.  Aye, a big smiley dog went by and stopped a wee bit up the street for to do a big steamin’ number 2, right in the middle of the pavement. Well I immediately forgot all about me woes and instead focused all me attention on that there dogshite, for I knew it'd only be a matter of time until some unfortunate clift'd come bouncin’ along and layve a lovely big footprint right through the middle of it. 

Aye, and generally spaykin’, I knew it'd be some eegit wearin’ shoes with real deep treads, which'd soak up the shite good and proper, so there’d be no aisy way of claynin’ it off, no matter how much they’d feck and damn and hop about scraypin’ their foot on the side of the pavement.  Man, it was great crack waitin’ eagerly for the poor victim to come along and when he eventually did, his face was an absolute picture when he realised instantly from that dreaded tell-tale slip, that not only had he struck brown ice, but that he’d landed right in the middle of a big pile of it. 

Well I’m away off down Memory Lane now til me favourite street corner.  I wonder how many cars I’ll see goin’ up and down theday.

 

DEFLATION

 

I read the other day that when a man goes til bed at night, it takes him exactly seven minutes for to go til sleep.  Well, I can vouch for that.  From Sunday til Friday, when I go til bed at night, I’m always fast asleep in seven minutes.  As for Saturday night, it always takes one minute longer – that’s because that’s the night I always demand me conjugular rights off me wife Mildred! 

Now while I’m on the subject of conjugular rights, I might as well tell youse about somethin’ what happened a wee while ago. Mildred sometimes invites her cronies round til our place for a hash and as soon as they arrive, I’m off, cos I’m not gonna sit in the midst of that coven of owl hags of witches.  However, I don’t never go too far away.  In fact, I always stand outside the dooer, for to earwig what they be talkin’ about.

Well anyway, one night one of them asked Mildred how she rated me as a love-makin’ machine. God when I heard that, I put me ear right up til the dooer, so as not to miss one single word of all her glowin’ praise.

“Och, on a scale of one til ten,” she said with a sneer, “I give him one ..... and that’s bein’ damned kind til the silly owl ballocks!”  Well you should have heard the snickers and the cackles of the rest of them.  My goodness, but it was the first time in me life, that I really ever understood what the word ‘deflation’ meant.  Aye, up until that point in time, I had just assumed that there was no better lover around than meself and that I was without doubt, definitely the locial Casanova. 

Now because I knew that Mildred’s revelation was gonna go round our wee town leck wildfire and do serious damage til me image and reputation, I decided I’d have to pull me socks up tout suite, if I ever wanted to swagger round our wee town leck a turbo-charged top-gun rooster again.  So I decided to do a wee bit of research intil love-makin’ and bejaysus it wasn’t long til I realised - much til me surprise - that there’s a whole pile more til all this than I had ever realised. 

So I went away up til the big city on the QT cos nobody knows me there and I duked about leck a rat from shop til shop, with me flat cap down over me eyes and me dark glasses on, gettin’ a whole pile of books on the subject and then I spent all me time secretly studyin’ them, rather than the horses.  Bejaysus, was it not one eye-opener!  My goodness, but I never knew weemen had so many bits and bobs and this, that and the other!

Well anyway, me memory’s not the best and I kept forgettin’ all the things I’d read. But one Saturday night, I couldn’t wait no longer and I decided the time had come for me to put everythin’ what I’d read in these here books intil practice.  However, I soon got the feelin’ that Mildred wasn’t none too impressed by the whole operation or me new found prowess. 

But then on reflection, I suppose I can understand why.  You see, when we went til bed, I had books open on the pillow, in the bed, on the bed and on the bedside cabinets and every time I went to try somethin’ new, I’d say til her: “Now just howl on there for a few ticks.”  And then I’d scrabble about for me glasses, look around for the right book and then flick through it, till I’d get til the page I was lookin’ for.

But to be quite honest with yee, it didn’t really matter til me what Mildred thought, cos I just knew that this was only the beginnin’ and that in next til no time at all, I’d be a super stud and that it wouldn’t be too long until there’d be masses of weemen comin’ from far and wide to seek me services and I’d have no choice but to tell them to form an orderly queue and patiently await their turn.

So the next mornin’, when I strutted intil the pub and met me chums, man was I not full of it.  Aye, it was great tellin’ them that I was the quare lover and I really enjoyed braggin’ til them green-eyed envious whoers that I’d been at it leck a rabbit the whole night long with Mildred.  But when I got home and tried to find me glasses for to read the Sunday rag, bejaysus I couldn’t find them nowhere.  So I tackled Mildred about it.

“I’ve got your glasses hid!” she exclaimed, “and furthermore they’re gonna remain hid, until you get rid of all them damned books!!” Now no glasses meant no studyin’ the horses, nor TV, nor readin’ juicy scandals in the Sunday rag and this, that and the other!  So bejaysus, I had the books on the bonefire and the glasses back on me snout within 2 minutes flat!  

 

CATTINESS

 

One real wet miserable cowl day a wee while ago, I was sittin’ by the roarin’ fire in the front room watchin’ the racin’ on TV, when suddenly the dooer burst open and in came Mildred lookin’ leck a half-drownded rat.

“I’m fed up milkin’ cows, claynin’ out pigs and diggin’ drains!” she scrayched, “so I’m gonna give up the farmin’ and open up a cat’s funeral parlour instead.”  Well although this here news alarmed me somewhat, I knew from past experience it’d be wiser to say nawthin’.  And anyway, as long as she keeps bringin’ in the money, sure I don’t really give a damn what she does.

Now Mildred’s a very capable, busy wee woman and in no time at all, she had the new business up and runnin’.  But although she did get a few customers at the start, there’s actually very few people round here, who are intil havin’ a wake, a hearse, a wee mahogany coffin or a funeral service etc for their recently departed moggies.

So that’s when she decided she’d have to extend her business, by offerin’ a weddin’ arrangement service for cats as well.  But once again, although she did get a few customers at the start, there’s not actually many around here, who’d be willin’ to pay top dollar for a weddin’ service with all the trimmin’s for their beloved pussies.  Furthermore, none of these cat marriages went as planned.  For example, Mildred just couldn’t get the cats to stay in one place and as for the cats’ speeches at the weddin’ receptions, bejaysus they was absolutely diabolical!

Aye, it wasn’t long until it looked leck Mildred’s cat business was gonna flounder.  But then she got a wee bit of a lifeline.  One of our farmer neighbours Clarence is a very good-livin’ religious man and one day he arrived up at our house with an unusual request.

“You know,” he said, “me and me family are all very happy up there in our wee heaven.  However, there’s just one wee thing that spoils it all and it’s really buggin’ me ..... you see, I have six cats up there on the farm and they’re all heathens ..... so because I know you can organise virtually anythin’ for cats, I was wonderin’ if you could arrange to Christianise them so that they’d be saved, just leck the rest of us.”

“No problem at all,” said Mildred immediately, without battin’ an eyelid, “I’ll see til it straight away.”  And over the next few days, she got everythin’ set up.  For example, she converted one of Clarence’s outhouses intil a wee church, furnished it with flowers, got a font for the baptism and hired a praycher for to carry out the service.

But unfortunately, things didn’t quite work out as she had planned.  You see, I’m afraid it’s a simple matter of fact, that there’s absolutely and utterly no way whatsoever, that anyone on this earth would be fit to baptise 1 cat let alone 6!!!  Aye, I’m afeared that for some strange raison or another, cats just aren’t too fond of water.

And how are things now, you ask?  Well, I’m still sittin’ by the roarin’ fire in the front room watchin’ the racin’ on TV.  As for Mildred, she’s outside in the cowl and the rain, milkin’ the cows, claynin’ out the pigs and diggin’ drains!

 

GROUCHO

 

One time, when Mildred went away up the country for to see her sister for a week, she left me a whole pile of homemade mate and spud pies in the frayzer and the idea was that I would take one out each mornin’ for to let it defrost and then heat it up in the oven in the evenin’ for me tay.

Now when the cat’s away the mice will play and so there was no way I was gonna hang around the farm while Mildred was gone.  So after I got up on the first day she was away, I took one of them pies out of the frayzer, put it on a plate on the kitchen table for to defrost and then it was straight down intil the town, for a day’s great crack with me mates in the pubs and bookies.  However, I got the quare gunk when I got home, for bejaysus some whoer had got intil me home and stole me pie.   

However, I decided that it was just a one-off and that it wasn’t gonna stop me from enjoyin’ meself.  So when I got up the next day, I took another one of them pies out of the frayzer and then after double-checkin’ that all the dooers was locked, it was straight down intil the town, for another day’s great crack with me mates in the pubs and bookies.  However, I got another quare gunk when I got home, for the whoer had somehow got intil me home and stole me pie again.

Well bejaysus, I was totally perplexed, especially as I couldn’t work out how the gobshite was gettin’ in.  But then I suddenly had a cunnin’ plan and I rang Archie who agreed to loan me his ferocious, foamin’-at-the-mouth Rottweiler guard-dog, whose first name is Groucho, cos he’s a mane sort of a bastard and whose second name is Marx, cos he layves marks on you when he bites yee.    

Now when I got up the follyin’ mornin’, I took another one of them pies out of the frayzer and after puttin’ it on the kitchen table to defrost, it was straight down intil the town again, for yet another day’s great crack with me mates in the pubs and bookies.

Well later, when I was walkin’ up the lane homeward bound, I heard this awful commotion near our house and when I looked up, I saw Groucho pursuin’ this buck across the fields and I was quare and playsed to see that not only was the miserable whoer fleein’ empty-handed from me house, but the arse was hangin’ out of his trousers too.

Bejaysus, was I not as happy as a wee pig in shite!  There’d be mate and spud pie for me tonight, thanks til Archie’s mutt Groucho.  However, when I got in through the dooer, I got the quare gunk, for bejaysus the pie was gone, apart from a few wee bits and pieces beside Groucho’s bed.

So I suppose the moral of the story is this: you just can't trust dogs to guard your food!

 

POWER WALKIN’

 

Now Saturday week ago, when we went round til Mildred’s 97 year-old ma Aggie, she surprised us no end by tellin’ us that she’d decided that the time had finally arrived, for her to start thinkin’ more about lookin’ after her health and that as a result, she was gonna give up the booze and fegs and take up power walkin’ for exercise. 

Well, I didn’t pass no remarks, for she’d had a brave few wee ports that mornin’.  So I just assumed that she was talkin’ nawthin’ but a whole load of owl nonsense and that there wouldn’t be one more word about it.  But bejaysus, she surprised me no end, let me tell yee.  My goodness, on Sunday mornin’, she was up at the crack of dawn and true til her word, she went out the dooer and started power walkin’.  Well it was a very commendable thing for an owl doll leck her to do.  The only sneg however, is that we don't know where the hell she is now.

 

I’LL TELL YOUR MA

 

Now here’s a wee song what I sang til me chillder, when they was nawthin’ but young skitters of cubs and cutties and they was misbehavin’, when me and them was out on a day trip one time: 

 

(til the tune of 'I'll tell me ma').

 

I’ll tell your ma, when we get home

She’ll tan your hides, for sure I know

She’ll clip your lugs, and make youse moan

Youse had your chances, but now they’re blown

 

She’s not handsome, she’s not pretty

When she is angry, and oh so livid

She’s gonna bate youse, one two three

So larn your lesson, and be good for me

 

I’ll tell your ma .....

 

£10 MILLION LOTTERY WIN

 

Bejaysus, some lucky whoer has just gone and won £10 million on the lottery.  Why couldn’t it have been me!  Why am I so damned unlucky!  I’ve been spendin’ a pound a week on it since it started and apart from the odd tenner, sure I’ve won damn all.  My God, but I’ve just no luck at all, at all.

But the thing that really sickens me arse about this latest big winner, is that he’s announced that it’s not gonna change his life. So why did he bother his arse buyin’ a ticket in the first place!

Bejaysus, things’d be quare and different if I ever won such a big prize.  The first thing I’d do is tell everyone about it and then really enjoy lookin’ at their envious expressions, when I’d tell them how I was gonna travel the world, live in the lap of luxury and spend, spend, spend. Then I’d head down for to see me bank manager, who I’m sure wouldn’t be just as obnoxious as what he normally is towards me and I’d tell the wee whoer, that I wanted a chequebook with 1,000 cheques in it.

The next thing I’d do is sit down and think about all the people I have had daylin’s with throughout me whole life and then make a list of all those who’d be suitable candidates.  After that, I’d write each of them a cheque for £100,000.  Man, it’d be great to see them bein’ all fawnin’, sickly sweet and syrupy towards me.  But they’d get the quare gunk when they’d have a closer look at their cheques and realise that they was all post-dated by a year.  

My goodness, they’d all be quare and nice towards me for the follyin’ 11 months or so.  However, they’d have been far better not botherin’ their arses, because I’d cancel all those cheques just before they’d become valid for payment.  But sure it’d be damned good medicine for them.  Aye, it’d be hell slap it up them all, for bein’ such whoers til me, when I had nawthin’!

 

SOCIABLE WEEMEN RELATIVES

 

When we was down in the pub theday, we was talkin’ about wives and hospitals and weemen relatives. Well anyway, Dixie was there and he told us a good one. Now Dixie puts his missus in the family way every year without fail, which manes she has to go intil hospital on an annual basis for to drop the ba and of coorse, while she's in there, his head gets a bit of pace from all her naggin’ and yappin’.  However, the downside is that when she's in hospital, she's not at home for to see til his conjugular rights.  So he has to find someone else to roll about with for a lough of days, until his missus gets back home.  But then that's never been a real problem in the past for Dixie, cos his wife’s sister always comes to stay for to look after the chillder and she's never been slow in jumpin’ intil Dixie’s bed, for to see til all his needs until his missus gets back home with the new ba.

Well after Dixie had finished tellin’ us this, Frank chirped up to tell us, that although he’d got a very sociable sister-in-law as well, it didn't do him no good.  He then went on to explain that his sister-in-law Mabel cuts men's hair in her own home and as far as most of the wives round our wee town is concerned, that's all she does.  But little do they know, that besides cuttin’ hair, she also lets any man have his way with her as well ..... and all just for the price of a haircut!  Needless to say, this was all very interestin’ and some of the boys immediately began checkin’ their hair in the bar mirror.

“But why doesn’t this here arrangement work til your benefit Frank?” I asked him.

Poor owl Frank lifted his cap for the very first time that any of us had ever seen and bejaysus, but if he wasn't as bald as a coot.

“Now what excuse would I have for goin’ to see her with a head leck this!”

 

UNDERTAKIN’

 

When I was down in the pub theday, who should come in but owl Teddy and that damned undertaker Foorde.  I immediately moved up the bar away from them, for although I don’t mind owl Teddy, I didn’t want that undertaker Foorde anywhere near me.  It’s not that I really have anythin’ agin him, it’s just that he always give me the creeps.  He seems so cowl in his black suit and stiff white shirt.  Sure if I ever had to shake his hand, I’d imagine it’d be a bit leck shakin’ hands with a lump of ice. 

But that Foorde one really does have some brass neck on him, let me tell yee.  I mind one day there was this here family a lough of miles up the country and they and a whole pile of relatives and friends was all huddled round this owl boy Barnie, who was on his death bed.  Well this stranger suddenly came in and nobody had any idea who the hell he was.  But because he had flowers and was all sugary sweet smiles and words of sympathy and kindness and all that sort of owl shite, they didn't rare up at him and tell him to feck away off out of it. 

However, when he was gone and a few inquiries was made, bejaysus but if they didn’t find out that he was none other than the bowel Foorde.  Well I ask you, what a way to drum up business!  But I suppose at the end of the day, it wouldn't have been so bad, except that the owl Barnie boy knew by the cut of Foorde what he did for a livin’ and needless to say, that didn't do his owl ticker no good at all!

Now with regard til owl Teddy, although he used to work full-time in a bacon processin’ factory, he’d also once had a strange part-time job, which'd give you the creeps.  Aye, when anyone died round our wee town about 40 years ago, the first person they always summoned was the bowel Teddy.  Man, he'd come along right away and the widow, or whoever, would give him a half-bottle of whisky and when he'd had a few sups, he'd wash the body and plug it all up good and proper.  Well anyway, Teddy was fierce fond of the booze and sometimes he was that druthy, that he drank all the whisky before he done the body.  Sure there was even one time when they found him lyin’ drunk, asleep and snorin’ on the top of the table, alongside the corpse.

Another job that Teddy used to have was diggin’ graves.  Jaysus, he was a desperate man and was forever gettin’ that drunk, that sometimes he didn't right know where the hell he was diggin’ and he'd dig holes in the ground, where there was already graves.  Sure when the locial dogs used to see him staggerin’ drunk up til the cemetery, with a spade droopin’ over his shoulder, they all used to bark leck hell and get all excited and folly him, for they all knew fine well, that there was a damned good chance of a few bones bein’ turned up, for them to chaw on.

 

WILD DUCKS

 

I was down in the pub theday when owl Ceecil nearly fell in through the front doer, with this big bag over his shoulder.  Well we all instantly perked up, cos whenever Ceecil’s around, it generally manes that there's gonna be a bit of good crack. 

Well, after depositin’ the bag out in the hallway and gettin’ himself a half’un and a bottle, Ceecil informed us that his brother had got tired of havin’ him as a lodger in his house and had thrown him out, on account of him always bein’ drunk and hashin’.  Now it’d been a desperate shock til Ceecil, especially as it was mid-winter.

Now at the time, he didn’t have no clue as til where he’d go and thought he'd be sharin’ a hedge that night with the hedgehogs.  But then by chance, he’d met and fallen intil chat with this here widow woman relative of his and when she’d heard all about his plight, she’d took pity on him and offered to put him up, on the condition that he’d earn his keep by helpin’ her run the farm.  Needless to say, he’d immediately accepted her offer. However, she was no mug and knew his record well and, as a result, she’d gone on to warn him sternly, that it was goin’ to be all work and sleep, and nawthin’ else!

“Well, I'll be good at the sleepin’ part,” he’d nearly tolt her.

Now after he’d had a few more half’uns, he told us that although he’d nearly got froze on his way til the pub, he was now beginnin’ to feel a wee bit warmer.

“And so you should,” said I til him, “sure you've already drunk the price of half a hunderdweight of coal over the last ten minutes or so.”

Well anyway, later on when Billy the barman went out intil the hall with some empties, his attention was drawn til Ceecil's bag, for it was movin’ and there was strange noises comin’ from it.  So he stuck his head round the dooer intil the main bar.

“What's in that there bag, Ceecil?”  Ceecil looked a wee bit confused for a few moments and then he remembered.  His eyes lit up and he rushed out and got a holt of the bag.

“Right youse farmers,” he roared at the top of his voice, “gather round, for I've got somethin’ to sell youse.”  The whole bar went quiet as he opened the bag.  Then he turned it upside down and out came a squad of ducks.  Jaysus, the quacks of those ducks was a terra and they went flutterin’ about in all directions.

“Hey boy,” shouted Billy, “get those ducks out of the bar, or else I'll have to throw you out!”  Ceecil looked desperate startled at such an awful threat.

“Jaysus Billy, there's a fierce storm goin’ on out there and you know fine well, that I'm no sailor.”  And he proceeded to shoo all the ducks out the front dooer on til the street, to let them find their own fate and destiny.

 

NEIGHBOURHOOD WATCH

 

Last night, me and the boys had one desperate session down in the pub and bejaysus, it wasn’t til after 2.00 am that I set off home, goin’ two steps forward and one step back the whole way home .

Well anyway, as I was staggerin’ along, I noticed owl Snedder dukin’ about in the shadows and it was obvious that he was on his way up til Biddy Bowles, for to get a holt of her while her husband was away on night shift. 

Oh ho, the badness got intil me and bejaysus, I was all for follyin’ him and then, when I’d be sure he was in Biddy’s bed, I’d throw some stones through the windy and create a commotion.  Boys a dear, when the neighbours'd come out for to see what the hell was goin’ on, I'd cry: “Bejaysus, I've just seen a burglar goin’ intil the Bowles’s house ..... someone call the peelers!”.  But then I decided I'd let Snedder go on ahead about his business.  Sure what good would it have done, landin’ the whoer in the shite leck that!

 

TOUGH STEAK

 

Mildred cooked me a wee bit of steak thenight and it was that small a wee piece, I almost started complainin’.  But then I remembered what happened til that Ronny boy and I said nawthin’.  Oh bejaysus, what happened til him would soon larn yee that it doesn't pay to be too damned greedy, for you can sometimes pay an awful price.  Aye, one night he went intil a restaurant when it was fierce busy and ordered a steak.  Now when the waitress brought it down til him, he kicked up all hell, sayin’ that the steak was far too small for all the money he was payin’ and he demanded a bigger lump. 

Well rather than have a scene goin’ on with so many customers about, the manager immediately agreed til his request and a lump of steak twice the size was brought down for him to get his choppers intil.  Well Jaysus, he took intil it leck a man possessed who hadn’t had a bite to ate for at least six weeks.  But unfortunately, he was that hungry a whoer, that a big lump of it got stuck in his throat and bejaysus, but if he didn't go and choke til death.  Aye, if he hadn't been such a greedy whoer and settled for the smaller bit of steak, sure the eegit would have still been alive today. 

 

DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENT

 

Now I leck atin’, smokin’, drinkin’ and layin’ about in a haype all day long.  But a wee while ago, I began to feel a wee bit off colour, so I decided to go til the doctor.

But sure it was a nightmare.  The waitin’ room was packed and there was all these chillder runnin’ about scraymin’ and shoutin’ and generally creatin’ hell.  Then there was this owl doll who near turned me head tellin’ me all about her aches and pains.  I also started gettin’ fierce annoyed when I began to notice that people who’d come in after me, was gettin’ seen til before me.

Now by the time I eventually got intil the quack’s surgery, sure I was chokin’ for a drink and a feg.  So I was akinda hopin’ he’d quickly prescribe me a lough of pills for to sort me out, so that I could be on me way tout suite down til the pub.  But naw, he insisted on examinin’ me and askin’ me a whole pile of damned stupid questions about me life style. 

Well, the next thing he did was to get a bit of paper and then start writin’ on it.  I was sure it was a prescription for pills he was writin’, so I got the quare gunk when I saw that instead of that, it was a long list of things I should do for to improve me health.  For example, it said things leck: no smokin’, no drinkin’, no Ulster fries, buns, biscuits nor cakes.  He even suggested, that instead of layin’ about in a haype watchin’ TV all day, I should take plenty of exercise by helpin’ Mildred round the farm and the house!

Man, I was quare and downhearted.  I mane, I’d come til the quack for to get cured and sure all he’d done, was to send me til hell before me time.

 

POOLS WIN

 

One fine day a lough of years ago, fortune shone its big blue eyes on me and bejaysus, I won tens of thousands of pounds on the football pools.  Well, that was the end of workin’ for me, because I decided there and then to become one of the gintry and let other people do everythin’ for me, for bejaysus I was certain the money I'd won couldn’t never possibly be spent in my lifetime.

Boys a dear, I went clayne mad and I bought tractors, trailers and all the latest farm machinery and a nice big tub of a car and bicycles and toys for the chillder and nice clothes for me wife Mildred.  And as for meself, sure I was hardly ever out of the pubs, where I spent the most of me time studyin’ the pools, for I was sure that it'd be no time at all, until I'd win again and that this time, it'd be the real big one.

Then the haymakin’ saison came along and needless to say, because I was gintry now, there was no way that I was gonna do any work on the hay meself.  So as per usual, when I wanted any work done, I invited a lot of the locial boyos up til me farm for to do all the work for me.  Bejaysus, there was piles of boys from round our wee town just dyin’ to get workin’ for me and man, there was soon more volunteers than would have manned an army. 

Jaysus, they thought it was great and they all used to roll up as soon as the sun got rizz.  However, damn the many of them ever wore workin’ clothes and in fact, it was more leck they was goin’ til a party. Aye bejaysus, when they turned up in the mornin’s, sure they’d all be grinnin’ and laughin’ and not all miserable leck most workmen you’d see.

Then they used claah about leck owl hens for a while, until it was time for the mornin’ tay-break.  Some tay-breaks they used to be!  Jaysus, I always used to turn up with big boxes of booze and grub and then we'd all sit down on the grass for to take this here tay-break.  But as the sun bate down, the only work that was ever done thereafter wasn't on the hay, but on the openin’ of bottles.

Then, when the sun'd go down, so would I, what with all the boozin’.  But sure me ‘workers’ was all great fellas and they never saw me stuck and they always took me home, via the pub of coorse, where they'd always have another damned good session at my expense.  My goodness, some of them hardworkin’ boyos was knockin’ in 18 hour days and sure everyone was havin’ a whale of a great time.

But then one day, me and me ‘workers’ never even got til the hay and instead we landed up in the pub, in search of a cure.  But once in, we couldn't layve and sure it was great.  There was no owl cowl porter that day.  Naw, it was all whiskies and large ones at that.  Well, when the crack was goin’ real good, me wife Mildred suddenly appeared through the dooer, lookin’ akinda worried.  She tolt me that I should layve the bar that very minute and go til the fields to make the hay while the weather was still good.  Well I wasn't none too keen on this here suggestion.

“Och, bring it in here,” I said til her, “and sure I'll make all the hay yee want.”  Man all the boys hooted with laughter.  Sure it was all great valyeh and I was certain it'd all never end. 

But the next day, the sun went away and the rain came and the hay that'd been lyin’ in the fields all rotted.  Then bejaysus, but if the bank manager didn't arrive and inform me that the unbelievable had happened and that all the money was gone - after only nine months!  And on top of that, there was a whole pile of bills that urgently needed payin’!! 

Well I was in a real owl hank then.  So when I eventually sobered up, I called once more for help from me ‘workers’.  But they'd heard the bad news too and damn the one appeared.  Aye, and do yee know what, not one them whoers ever showed their face round my place again.

 

MARRIAGE BLUES

    

Now although me wife Mildred doesn’t really never annoy me too much any more, it was of coorse different at the start when we first got wed.  Aye, until she got herself a titter of wit, she acted leck a typical woman and tried her damndest for to change me in all sorts of ways.  For a start, she was death on drink and was never done praychin’ on at me about the evils of the divil's brew.

So when I'd get back from a boozin’ session, there'd always be a damned good chance that there'd be hell to pay.  So whenever I got up near the front dooer, I always used to throw me cap in first and if it didn't come straight back out again, then I’d know it was probably reasonably safe to go in.

But I remember well the very first time I came home scootered.  It was a cool, fresh night and there was a full moon. My goodness, it was great and as I went along the road, I sang 'Home on the Range' at the top of me voice and it echoed all around the silent hills.  But she soon put the singin’ out of me, for as soon as I got in through the front dooer, she hit me a box in the mouth and landed me on me arse right on the range, amongst all the pots and pans.  Aye, I was certainly home on the range alright!

Now Mildred was determined to cut the drinkin’ out of me.  So one day, she had this bright idea and she hid all me boots and shoes.  But she might as well not have bothered her arse, for it didn’t stop me and I got down til the pub anyway.  Man, I had a great night, even though I did have to endure some funny looks and a few smart remarks about standin’ there at the bar in me bare feet.

But although Mildred has cooled down a lot over the years, she’s still a real typical woman.  If I come back early, she'll say til me “you’re back early theday!”  And if I come back late, she'll say “you’re back late theday!”  Och, you just couldn't playse them.

But marriage can be an awful desperate disease.  I mane, it's one thing wakin’ up after a big session with an odejious hangover, but it's a whole sight worse to wake up and find a woman standin’ there naggin’ at yee and buzzin’ about your head and stingin’ away at yee leck a wasp.  Aye, isn't it a shame that they're born with tongues.  Man, if a woman’s ever in bad humour, my goodness but her tongue goes leck a handbell and bejaysus, she goes through you leck a physic of salts.  Sure it's no wonder us boyos drink so much.  But at the same time, though it's desperate hard livin’ with them, us men can't really live without them neither.  I mane, how the hell would any of us boys cope at all! 

 

HRT

 

When me wife Mildred turned menopausal, she became even more odd and peculiar then usual and she made me life real hell for a while.  But then she said she was goin’ on til HRT.  Well I didn’t know what it actually meant, but I assumed HRT was for aisin’ the plight of menopausal weemen’s long-sufferin’ husbands and that the letters HRT therefore stood for Harridan Relief Tablets.  So I was quare and playsed. 

Now after Mildred started takin’ these here tablets, things definitely did improve in many respects.  But then somethin’ happened one night, that really shook me up.  Now just after we got married, I couldn’t get enough of her.  But it wasn’t too long until I’d have preferred atin' a bucket of cowl vomit til tacklin’ her and after a lough of months, the normal routine at bedtime was for me to turn me back on her and get meself comfortable, before disappearin’ intil the land of nod. 

However one night, several weeks after Mildred started on HRT, she gave me the quare gunk when she put her hand upon me thigh and made it very clear, that she was interested in a lot more than just listenin’ til me snorin’.  Well this scarred me no end, especially when I subsequently larned that HRT can make some weemen fierce frisky.  So I decided I’d have to take some drastic action.

Now Mildred suffers from Arthur-rightis, so I told her that to save her the walk down intil the town for her repeat HRT prescriptions, I’d go instead.  Now this really surprised her, because I don’t never do nawthin’ for her.  But she didn’t say “naw” and so whenever she needed a repeat prescription, it was always me who’d plod down intil the town for to get it.  However, what she didn’t know was that I’d throw the HRT tablets away and replace them with wee round white sweets.

Mind you, I had to go back til puttin’ up with all her peculiar moods and tantrums.  But sure anythin’s better than that dreaded hand upon me thigh!

 

CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY

 

You have to be so careful what you say, or else you could land yourself in a whole pile of bother.  I larnt that lesson the first time me owl battleaxe of a mother-in-law Aggie came til our house with a whole pile of her cronies.  Now me wife Mildred and the whole lot of them went intil the kitchen for to hash, layvin’ me all on me lone in the livin’ room watchin’ TV. 

But then not too long after, I heard someone knockin’ at the front dooer.  I of coorse expected Mildred to go and see who it was.  But naw, she and the others just kept hashin’ away.  Needless to say, the person at the front dooer kept knockin’.

Well do you know, it was actually ME who eventually had to get up out of me chair for to go and answer the dooer and I wasn’t best playsed, let me tell yee.  But what made it worse, was that it was nobody for me.  So I had to go ALL the way down til the kitchen for to get Mildred and my goodness, but was I not crabbed.

“Mildred,” I growled, “you’re awantin’!”  Well as soon as I said that, Aggie leapt til her feet.  Then she drew out and hit me such a box in the mouth, that she landed me on me arse in the corner.

“Don’t you ever dare call my wee daughter a wanton again!!!” she snarled.

 

CHECKLIST

 

Well although it might be a wee bit leck tellin’ your grandma how to lay eggs, but here’s a wee piece of advice for yee, if you’re considerin’ buyin’ a house.  Now before you go lookin’ at prospective new homes, be sure to make a checklist of all the things to look out for when you’re doin’ viewin’s.

We once put our place up for sale because Mildred said she was that fed up doin’ all the work around our farm, that she wanted to give it all up and move til a new house down in the town.  And that’s when she sat down and compiled her checklist.  So as not to be outdone, I did one too.

Now these checklists turned out to be very useful indeed.  For example, when we started lookin’ for somewhere to buy and went to view the first house on our list, Mildred had a look at her checklist and then went round the whole place lookin’ at the plumbin’ and electrics etc, before gettin’ up on the roof for to check out the slates, the flashin’ and the gutters etc.   As for me, I looked at my checklist too and then made a beeline for the livin’ room, for to check out the TV reception and see if the room’d be large enough to accommodate me big rockin’ chair, me foot stool and me crates of Guinness etc.  I also had to make sure that the view from the windy was such that I could keep a close watch on all me new neighbours.  Needless to say, it was also desperate important to make sure that the nearest pub and bookies was near til hand. 

Now although the house met all my criteria, we didn’t actually buy it.  This is because Mildred unfortunately fell off the roof and by the time she’d recovered a few weeks later, sure that particular house was sold.

 

GOIN’ BACK GENERATIONS

 

I have this theory that all weemen was elephants in a previous life.   Well if they wasn’t, then all I can say is that they certainly have memories leck elephants - for they never forget NAWTHIN’!   My goodness, when you’re havin’ a barney with them, sure they’ll go back generations to dredge up some owl thing from the past that’ll help them get a real good stingin’ dig at yee.

Now normally, when me wife Mildred asks me a straight question, I never tell her the truth.   Aye, I only ever tell her what I know’ll playse her and shut her up.  However, I wasn’t always so wise.  33 years ago, on the 6th June 1972, she got that rizz about me drinkin’ so much, that she turned til me with a fierce snout on her.

“You know,” she scrayched, “I believe you’d far rather have a bottle of Guinness than me!”  Well although that was true enough, I would normally have replied:

“Och no my sweetness, I love you more than anythin’ else in the whole wide world.”   But that day, I was fierce druthy and in desperate need of a cure.  So I made a fatal mistake.

“Aye, you’re right there,” I heard meself sayin’ wistfully, “I would indeed prefer a bottle of Guinness.”

Boys, did I not regret that remark!    Man, it was thrown back up in me face many times afterwards.  Even til this day, when she has some of her owl cronies in, she’ll turn til them with an owl sour look on her face.

“Do you see that boy there,” she’ll snarl, “well I’ve been the best wee woman a man could ever hope for and yet he’d rather have a bottle of Guinness than me!”  So when all these weemen turn to stare aghast at me, with nawthin’ but contempt on their faces, that’s always my cue to bate a hasty retreat, to layve her to recount the whole story yit again, right down til the very last damned detail!

 

FROM A JACK TIL A KING

 

Now although me brothers are nearly all good for nawthin’ losers leck meself, there is the one exception and that’s me brother Jack, who lives up in Belfast.  Now when he lived in our wee town, he was far worse than the rest of us.  For a start, he never had any sort of a job at all and was permanently on the dole.  But not only that, none of this here dole money ever went intil the house.  Aye, Jack used to spend the whole of his dole money on himself, layvin’ his wife Maggie with nawthin’ but the child benefit to bring up their squallin’ brats. 

You know, as soon as he’d get his dole money on a Friday, bejaysus his first port of call was always the pub and apart from wee trips til the bookies next dooer, he remained in the pub for the rest of the day and the whole of Saturday as well.  Mind you, by the time Sunday came round, sure there was hardly a bob left for the News of the World, which meant that until Friday rolled round again, he never had no choice but to spend every day hangin’ round the street corners, kickin’ his heels.

Now his wife Maggie originally came from Belfast and one day, her and Jack decided that they’d go and live with her owl ma Mary up in the big city, because it’d save them rent and layve them more money for drinkin’, smokin’, gamblin’ and generally eegitin’ about.

Well anyway, Jack had never been further than ten miles away from our beloved wee town in his whole life and that’s why we was so sure  that the useless whoer’d find Belfast such a desperate alien place, that he’d sink quicker than a stone and would soon be back home, with his tail between his legs.  Now we was right in one respect, in that it wasn’t all that long until he did come back.  However, it was only for a visit and far from him havin’ his tail between his legs, man it was waggin’ leck billio, for the whole world to see. 

My goodness, but we hardly recognised him.  For a start, he wasn’t short of money and in fact, he had big thick wads of it.  He also had a big tub of a new car and was wearin’ fancy clothes and a whole pile of gold jewellery.  But not only that, he tolt us that he could now afford to hang around the bookies and the pubs every single day in life and not just the odd day leck the rest of us. 

Now as well as bein’ fierce envious, I was also desperate curious about all this and so I tackled him about it down in the pub.

“So if you’re not workin’,” I said til him, “then where the hell are you gettin’ all the money from?”

“Och, I've started a brothel,” he told me as bold as brass. “Mind you, I've only started in a small way ..... with the wife and the mother-in-law.”

Well whether he was jokin’ or not, when I heard this here story, I took a long hard look at Mildred and her owl ma Aggie.  But then after some consideration, I put the thought from me mind forever.  I mane, who in their right mind was ever gonna pay me good money, to get intil a clinch with either of them two owl witches!

 

JOB SEEKERS

 

I mind one lovely sunny Sunday away back in the mists of time, when Mildred and me was still akinda inter-rested in each other and we was out for a walk along the seafront in Carrickfergus. 

Now Carrickfergus is an unusual sorta place in that it boasts not one, but two castles – one at each end of the promenade.  Aye, near the town centre stands the really owl castle, which is a fine lookin’ place, let me tell yee.  And then at the other end of the promenade, stands the more modern Kilroot castle.  Now although it’s not half as impressive lookin’ as the owl castle, it has one claim til fame.  Of all the castles in the whole wide world, it has the highest tower of them all.

Well anyway, as we was standin’ lookin’ out over Belfast Lough towards Bangor, we fell intil chat with these two bucks we’d never seen before.  Now they was very friendly sorta boyos, but there was somethin’ about them that really intrigued me and that was their accent.  You see, I’d never heard an accent leck theirs before.  But then I’d never travelled much and in fact, I hadn’t been outside Carrickfergus for quite a few years, apart from that one day that we went up til the big city for a lough of hours and I just couldn’t wait to get home, on account of me feelin’ so scarred and homesick.  Well anyway, I was that curious I just had to ask them.

“Where are youse from anyway boys?”

“From de Sowt,” one of them replied.

“De Sowt?” I said all puzzled, “and where the hell is that? ..... I’ve never heard of it.”  

“Och, now come on,” said the buck, lookin’ at me all quizzical-leck, “yeh must be coddin’ me ..... yeh must have heard of de Sowt.” I shook me head, totally perplexed.  Mildred rolled her eyes and gave me a sharp nudge with her elbow.

“He means the South, yee bloody eegit yee,” she growled.

Well anyway, we continued hashin’ and it soon became apparent that they was lookin’ for work.

“Aye,” said one of them, “we came up here til Carrickfergus, because someone told us there was piles of work goin’ here.”

“And have youse found anythin’?” I asked. The buck shook his head.

“Naw,” he replied sadly, “the only thing we saw was up there at the forestry place ..... aye, there was a big sign pinned up til the gate ..... and it said that they had job vacancies ..... for tree fellers.”

“So why didn’t youse apply then?” I asked.

“Och, how could we!” replied the buck, “sure there was only the two of us!” 

 

WEEMEN’S LIB

 

Up until recently, Mildred and I’d had a great wee system goin’.  Aye, it ran leck clockwork and I was as happy as Larry.  Take mornin’s for example.  When Mildred’s alarm’d go off at 5 am, she’d turn it off as quick as possible so as not to disturb me and then she’d get dressed real quick and go outside for to feed all the bastes, clayne out their lairs and milk the cows etc. 

Then she’d come back intil the house for to make me my breakfast, which she’d bring til me in me bed.  After that, she’d shave me and lay out me clothes, before sloppin’ out the bucket I keep by the bed, to save me havin’ to go til the loo durin’ the cowl nights. Then she’d always go downstairs to light the fire in the front room to get it all nice and warm for me, when I’d eventually come downstairs to watch TV.  After that, she’d go outside to plough fields, fix fences, dig drains and so on, before comin’ back in at noon for to make me my dinner.

However, when Mildred’s young niece Sharon came to visit, she filled Mildred’s empty head full of a whole pile of owl weemen’s lib nonsense and sadly everythin’s changed for the worse since then.  For example, I now have to see til me clothes, slop out me bucket and get me own breakfast etc.

Aye bejaysus, I have to do everythin’ for meself now.  But what makes it even worse is that Mildred sneers at the way I do things.  For example, when I iron a shirt, you should hear her scornin’ me when I only do the collar.  But sure the way I look at it, I always wear a jersey, so the only part of me shirt that anyone can ever see is me collar.  So why would I need to iron any other part of the shirt! 

Bejasysus, how I wish I could get Mildred back til the way she was, before that damned Sharon came avisitin’!