Brit's Irish policy, 1801-1916(sorry Huge)

'nuff said.

uggs should be banned........

........and also burned.

Nico, a pirates of the Carribean spin off........

Thought i'd bring y'all up to date on the Nicky situation........Max and I leapt in our pirate ship and set sail for home, or somewhere we could make a home, with our outstanding wenches. As we cruised by the coast of a hithertho unknown coastline, fuel waned and we were forced to shore. There we met some terrified inhabitants, who told us of a wild-man living amongst the mountains nearby. They had obtained, from the beast's lair, an incriminating photograph; it was Nico........

They were a funny, angry and holy looking bunch so, fearing for nico's safety, we volunteered to take him away with us, if we could find him. The predominately female population pointed towards a mountain where he dwelled; and we set off.

Finding Nico proved to be simple, we just followed the trails of violated-looking sheep and discarded sketch-pads,eventually ending up at his lair;

An understandably bedraggled Nico greeted us, along with his pregnant(again) wife,

Their wild appearences scared us at first but Nico looked so ridiculously pathetic that we hadda rescue them and kick it down to the Swift.

The villagers saw us off enthusiastically and we set sail for new horizons.

Although Nico was no longer in danger he was restless on the boat, his art an the land were calling to him. Him and the wife escaped one night on a motorbike and pegged it off down the road. He sent
word off of his well-being(the last we heard of him) and a self-

portrait of him and his wife enjoying life together.

Me Max and Nico..........

Exiled from Ireland, me Max and Nico had set sail for the Carribean, aboard our stolen ship, the Swift, and under our stolen Pirate flag.


Seeing as we already had the ship and flag we decided to become Pirates. Nicks cowardice meant we couldn't attack ships, instead we preyed on those who dwell on the beach, sunbathers. This proved to be lucrative and a laugh. This bald man Max and I killed simply because he was bald. Some fought back or mocked us, like this motherfuck here that insulted my official Pirate luminous top. I overpowered him and then, with the same giant wooden spoon from the original, scooped out all his insides. We even started our own line of Tee-shirts and underpants which still grosses 79billion dollars a day.

As Pirates do, we made tons of buddies and even started a rugby team(Nick's idea, the fag) these pictures are just a taste of our super fantastic Pirate lifestyle.

Eventually, as you do, we tired of the hectic Pirate lifestyle, the murder and pillaging didn't have the same appeal anymore. Max and Meself searched for some wenches, with whom we would begin Pirate families. Max picked up this pirate and woman ensemble at one of the beaches we attacked, this is the pose she greeted us with(probably saved her life). I bagged the most beautiful woman in the world, Natalie Portman, she's Pirate to the bone......met her at one of our ultra-deadly pirate parties.

Nick on the other-hand was the first to leave, to follow a childhood dream of being an artist. As you can see from this self-portrait it was a mammoth waste of time, took him 12 years to draw. The depression that ensued drove him to the drink(there he is)................. He married a sheep(That's them there) and it gave birth to a lovely sheep-boy(that's it there).

This last picture is of our recent reunion with an unidentified fourth member.

Hugh, Eric and their child.

In the very likely event that Local Sugar puff Monster, Eric(shown below left) and the Kermit the frog motherfucker, Hugh(below right) engage in Muppet relations this here animal could result....................Note the striking resemblance between the three, we can only hope those two sort things out and produce one of these things, perhaps aided by alcohol, sesame street porn and a bit of grit and determination.

Kermit the frog Motherfucker and

Local Sugar Puff Monster

Me, Sociology and that free bar.

Disillusioned, as I was, with life following a torrid day at work on Tuesday comparing that nights dual broadcasts did not appeal to me, but I done it anyway and somehow managed 2100 words about their comparisons and contrasts on Wednesday morning merging with early afternoon.

Headed to the cathair for a couple of brews to celebrate, initially went to the Conradh but got dragged over to the Village where I experienced something fabled in Myth and Legend; a free bar. TG4, the fools, footed the bill as meself and my vocalists, Cathal and Máckaí drained them, literally sucking the life blood outta the place.

Having told Nick to join us originally, I then lied to him, saying the jig was up, a selfish act on my part which, nevertheless, guaranteed impecable and instant bar service from our token Eastern European bar-man. Ran into my Irish teacher from College, Antaine O'Fearacháin who threatened me with failing the Course if I continued to boycott his class at the ungodly hour of 9 on a wednesday morning.

I tried to explain it to him, 'but, Antaine, your class is shit,' unfortunately the big man wasn't inebriated in the least bit and I'm told he wasn't impressed in the least bit neither, fuck him!!!

Eventually Máckaí was summoned home and me and Cathal, in search of company(we get lonely ridiculously easily and regularly) fluttered over to the Conradh to graze. Initial reservations at the door in relation to letting us in were surpassed and two pints were placed in front of us(still don't know where they came from?!).

Much banter ensued as crazy Cathal let it rip, drenching the poor establishment with his intestinal fluids(I didn't see it but I'm told it was outstanding). I was hailed from the ground-floor to care for him, I nurtured the drunken squirrel as he unleashed a tirade of abuse which, if repeated here would cause your eyes to melt(dinna remeber anyhow). Eventually I gave up trying to calm him and chain-smoked twenty Marlboro to quell the rising tide of anxiety spurred on by relentless threats of police intervention. Having been thrown out and barred(and now un-barred,Hooray!!) there was nothing more for us to do but Cathal didn't see it that way.

I managed to force him to the gate and beyond and the Conradh was able to lock its hallowed gates. I defended my buddy, as he assaulted the gate with great fury, from passer-by's comments by verbally attacking and flicking d'old smoke butts at the motherfucks. At last Cathal, rather inevitably, fell asleep on the ground allowing me the precious chance to bundle his ass into a taxi and make a suave exit from town.

Distributed his behind at his gaff and strolled home singing Hanson and vandalising the odd Gaff too.