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Showing posts from 2014

Luke Kelly and the Red Leather Purse

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I was so FAT when I was 30 my belly button echoed, and my boyfriend carried around a photo of the girl who came with his wallet.
My boyfriend at the time was a doppelganger of Luke Kelly who had a tattoo of his ex’s name on his arm. He got it covered by a flower, a rose, which was unfortunate in that her name was Rose.
I was not allowed to be going out with a man with a tattoo as only sailors had them back then.
 At the Twins 21st on a scorching  bank holiday Monday, having been sent to the bar with a warchest of notes to buy the round for the entire table, he skidded on a piece of ham and  landed on his back with a tray of about 35 drinks and mixers  on his chest,  drenching himself to the bone with beer and ice and minerals. The Barman pulled him up out of the crowd and kicked the broken glasses and bottles under the table and took him down one of the pub promotion t-shirts that were always hanging behind every counter.
To a stout drinker, it was sacrilegious and mortifying to be p…

Butterface

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The first thing they gave me in Sweden was a wooden butter knife. I thought it was a spoon for eating tubs of HB which in our house has always been known as   “Heavy Belly” due to an unfortunate incident when I wore a free promotional t shirt as a child.  A Butter Knife? As a welcome gift in the welcome pack which ominously had a map of the second hand shops inserted into it? Could they read my mind?  A butter knife for Butterface?  “Oh she’s lovely from the back, Butterface” ...............   The only way to explain how some people dress for the airport is they think no one else will be there. I suspect that Dublin Airport is an elaborate hoax and Swords has a real airport nearby that only Dubs know about. I had spent the evening carefully folding things into a gigantic case and when I finally sat on the lid couldn’t lead nor drive it. Use mine says Hewhomustnotbenamed and we threw everything around the room and tried again. It became patently obvious to me after the first 40 minute…

Quare Thinking

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Why is there always a shitty underpants at a lake?
Why do teenagers have to scream hello for so long when they are only coming back from the jacks?
How do fags always light in films on the first go?
Why is my smear  nurse called Dora the Explorer?
Why does she bother to leave the room when I undress?
She is going to see me naked anyway.
Actually worse than naked -  half naked with socks on.
Socks made your nudiness nudier I find.  
Why did I not answer my penpal for 24 years?
Whose leg do you have to hump to get an armchair  around here?
Why is my cervix tucked under?
WHAT is it tucked under -  if you wouldn’t be shouting?
Why are the pipes connected to breathing and swallowing so close, and will I choke to death if I take a Sanatogen alone in my  kitchen?
In the song Yankee Doodle is he calling the pony, the hat or the feather Macaroni?
Does a dentist take out his own tooth?
Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard?
What do people in China call the good plates?




Who do I think I am?
Why am …

Ten Years Later ....................

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On my 40th birthday I had flown back from Spain and having refused to batten down the hatches in the metal cabin at sea again, was nixing as a barmaid in the Thomas Moore tavern, playing Galileo and Kasabian  on the jukebox ,   serving creamy  soup and packed  sandwiches to the hundreds of new customers who had rocked up once the doors were actually opened and the telly was taken off the counter.  The Thomas Moore was always a little club, and every head at the bar would turn from the screen or the Crosaire when the door creaked.   I had the distinction of almost being barred for putting coal on the fire when Mike was in the toilet, watching in disbelief as he took it back off again with tongs and carried it - still smoking - out into the yard in a galvanised bucket. The actual party was held upstairs in TheSky & The Ground, which at the time was called Heavens above, which was fitting. I was standing in the middle of the floor tricking around with a cylinder of helium wondering how I…