Thursday, 24 June 2010

Blarney Stone, with tongues

Christ, the fucking taxi driver did not fucking shut up for more than 10 seconds. And it was a fucking 35 minute drive!

And fucking Heathrow's pikey terminal means you fucking walk half-way to fucking Dublin to get on a cunting plane. The plane was heaving. And the landing was fucking interesting.

Still, hotel's nice and I'm right over a canal. Time to go find a pub, I think! Maybe murder a prostitute later and sling her body into the canal.

7 comments:

sixtypoundsaweekcleaner said...

Are you sharing a room with JD?

microdave said...

Any landing you can walk away from is O.K. - so the saying goes.

But tough luck if you're in the plane later when the undercarriage collapses on touchdown...

Mitch said...

Ahh a traditional night out . There's a lot to be said for the classics.

Ed P said...

Is the Liffy still sniffy? (It will be after you've dumped the body in it)

Anonymous said...

Don´t forget the local banter"tree points o giness or oil tump ya"!
And think yourself lucky you have a pound in your pocket!
Never forget always ask for jimmy flannegan or mick griffen
BRICKBAT

Roger Thornhill said...

Well if you had a clown with inch long filed teeth in the back of your cab, you'd be inclined to nervous chatter...

J Demetriou said...

A good night was had by all, I can testify!