These Boots Were Made for Walken....

Chris, that is, or as I like to call him, and he doesnt mind, really.

My bit at the top is an Arts Student, terribly Intelligent, Erudite and Attractive.

Such a pity the same cant be said about her family....

The bit at the top is Maedhbh, or some other odd Irish name.

Cant be bovvered, me, I'm consonant incontinent......

And I should know, my father's a Doctor, ( or Doc., as he prefers...)

L's family party tonight, stuffed to the gills with the kind of people that I would choose to spend eternity with.
I refuse to name names (an Irish tradition',built in Belfast).


Christy; " No, but, Sloe Poitin is your REALLY only man, but you might want to take it handy...."
Me; "No, its the Bogwater muck you'ld want to mind"
Christy; "We were too fucked to put the cap back on it, as bad we were....
Me; "Never drink water, after, remember Malahide? Of course you fucking dont...."

I love Wicklow.

And on the way home, the Child says...

"Look at the ice, Daddy, and not a Guard around to do anything about it..."



Monday morning, 21.12.2009

Addendum; it is now the next morning, and Im looking at this bag of shite I wrote last night.
Icould, I suppose, delete it and go again, but I think I'll leave it, just to remind myself of that strange equation ; "Heaps of Stout plus Utter Bollox makes Perfect Sense (At The Time)