Chat 🔥🤬General Chat Thread
- Thread starter David
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Mowl
Member
I'm just afraid that if he was to lash his dick into your mouth he might not get the result he was expecting.
Mowl
Member
Isn't that our Jimmy Dawson at a younger age?
Threatening someone with weapons (screwdriver and pliers) on a bus with CCTV has to be one of the dumbest things a person can do. The Gards and Courts can see everything from beginning to end.
The boy's father seriously needs to tell him to cop the fuck on to himself before he lands himself in a cell for a few years.
The boy's father seriously needs to tell him to cop the fuck on to himself before he lands himself in a cell for a few years.
Sadly, it looks like the young man has been influenced by a foreign culture
Mowl
Member
You can stab someone with a screwdriver, yes - but that vice grips would be better used pulling teeth.
I doubt our Jambo has too many of his teeth left though.
Yeah, but stirring them into action is another ball game entirely.
He most likely learned all his tricks from his Dad, given that knacker accent.
By the time that kid hits twenty years of age, at least four of them will have been spent behind bars.
Never underestimate the sheer scumminess of Dublin knackers: believe me, I grew up with more than enough of them around me.
Thankfully, most of them are in the ground, and many of those who aren't are in the 'Joy.
Bet he's more Irish than you are.
Imagine if that was Jambo being threatened with a screwdriver by a young teen scumbag?
He'd be pissing his little knickers and challenging the cunt to a game of tiddlywinks as a straightener.
It's not just Dublin though, it's in every town across Ireland, including Athy where I lived for six years.
Dublin City Centre also has the unfortunate position of attracting scumbags from Limerick, the Midlands etc. due to the methadone clinics. Other councils dump their troublemakers on Dublin City Council as a last resort when they can't provide accommodation themselves. 99% of homeless folks are good people, but locating such services beside some of the nation's top tourist spots is just asking for trouble.
Mowl
Member
Same here: Ballyer had some right fucking scumbags, but every one of them got theirs in the end.
The one that hit the hardest was that bastard who hung around outside the lower Decie's chip-shop tapping up odds with threats attached. When he was drunk he was even fucking worse. Then one night, he and the lads went down to the bridge at Inchicore to wait for the Guinness train heading south with a full load in tow. Stupid cunt grabbed a keg, then when trying to fuck it off into the grass verge, slipped and went under the gap between the carriages, losing both legs from the mid-thigh down.
Later, in his wheelchair, he returned to his usual perch to resume tapping up odds.
With threats of violence attached.
One by one the local kids lost their fear and took to slapping him when he threatened them.
He was dead within a few years of that, and nobody missed him any more than they missed his legs or his threats.
Do you know, I always wondered about that: why campaign for a local loser clinic when you can just load them up and bus them out of town?
But yes, Dublin - and Ireland - will always have her quotient of scumbags.
Just look at Jimmy here?
Mowl
Member
You're still outraged that I'm happier and better off than you are, innit Jimmy?
Not only am I living in the world's highest standards of everything ever, I get to rub it into your sad little mush as often as thirty-seven times a day.
That's not even on a good day, mind.
And you KNOW I mean a good Irish day, full of spuds, Guinness, and little girls more Irish than you are yourself.
Is must.
Always.
A lot of troublemakers know the Gardai are a soft target. Try messing with the French police by contrast and they'd be wrestled to the ground with a bruise or two - no questions asked.
Mowl
Member
Irish cops are scumbags, I know this from personal experience.
Said Jimmy to the mirror..
Mowl
Member
Same fella again
That Dublin/knacker accent just kills me: I'm reminded of the last time I took a walk across the city centre (September 15th 2025) from the top of Grafton Street past Trinity and over the bridge into the badlands of the north-side: Talbot and Henry St nearby the GPO, and then up to Parnell where I flagged a taxi and headed to the airport for a beer instead of in the city. It was horrifying, I felt like I came from another fucking planet, not another EU member state.
The sense of dread and danger on the streets, the dirty looks from men congregating on street corners in large numbers, eyeballing everything and everyone, looking for weakness or distraction before moving in for the kill. The dirt, waste bins overflowing onto the pavements, all this spitting as a nasty habit/means of showing how 'hard' one is. The queues at the McDonald's and the piles of wrappers outside with the seagulls screeching and swooping, filthy pigeons with burned off talons from the electrical cables, and fuckers with huge vicious dogs on short leads, also giving dirty looks like they were dying to hoose the bull/staff raging canine at you.
The take-aways, dozens and dozens of them on the main street. The smells: chips, vinegar, horrible vape smells, burgers, piss, endless fucking piss-stinking lane-ways. Chewing gum embedded into the concrete. Dead rats in gutters, bellies swollen from rat poison. Fucking hell. I was born into THIS? Jesus fuck, how I endured Ireland for twenty years is still a mystery to me. Never felt so utterly bereft of national Irish identity as that day. Couldn't wait to get onto the plane and take a deep breath that didn't stink of Ireland. Fuck that.
Just watching those two in the shop doorway going at each other reminded me of the endless fucking divides in all sections of Irish life:
Northern Ireland v Republic uvv Urrland
Culchies v Jackeens
North-siders v South-siders
Catholic v Protestant
Working class v middle class
Knackers v estate heads
Homeless v themselves
Tents v Doorways
Jaze fucking help yiz all over there.
I couldn't endure that for more than a few days.
The sense of relief when I landed in Helsinki was enormous.
Like I just dodged a hail of bullets and a few grenades tossed in my direction.
Then it dawned on me: now I have NO family at all in Dublin: we all left.
That came as a bit of a shock mixed with deep relief and a sort of 'we all made it out.. ..thank fuck for that..'
The nearest family base I have to Dublin city now is in Kilmacanogue, at the foot of the Wicklow mountains, one of my favourite places in Ireland.
Then the brother's spread out in the quiet regions of Kildare: two and a half acres, thick bush surrounds with two old stone cottages rebuilt and joined together, ultra-modern everything indoors, peace, calm, that vague Irish country smell of slurry and cow-pats in the distance, gentle rain on soft grass, outdoor barbecue under a roof, sound system connected to every room bar the bedrooms. Lots of my paintings and other pieces on the hallway walls. The framed oil portrait of my Mam as a younger girl on the lounge wall, pride of place with tea-candles lit every evening beneath it. A great sense of comfort, of security, timelessness.
That, I miss.
Dublin - not so much.