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'ISIS' Claims Responsibility For Moscow Concert Hall Attack

WARNING: Graphic video -


 
Messy situation alright.

I was out late and am only seeing this now.

Fucking slaughter - it never ends.

Thank fuck I'm in the world's happiest country.
 
Val has almost three thousand subscribers on YouTube the Mowl (not two thousand and ninety-nine 🤣). Those are numbers you can only dream of
 
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Thanks, really.

I'd also like to thank my neighbours and friends in Dublin 10, without whom I could never have come so far so fast and so eloquently. To Father Arthur O'Neill for his spiritual guidance, belief in me, and occasional confessions. The people of Ballyfermot lower, the classier end where we're all looking out for each other. To the CIE buses that took us into town. To the factories over the back wall, without whom I would never have been able to afford fresh sticks and drum-heads.

To the staff at Tesco, who never once clocked that I walked out the door with several times more products than I paid for. To the various pubs, all of whom hired me at one stage or another when I was under twelve years old. To the teachers and staff at St John's College, the only school I was booted out of twice but always got back in. To Thomas 'Barney' O'Sullivan, who taught me the value of an apostrophe. To Willy Allen for the book list he slipped me one day and introduced me (and only me) to the wonders of modern literature.

To the local coppers for all the times they came knocking on our door claiming I was in custody at Pearse St/The Bridewell for stealing cars when I was in fact working in Greece most of the time. To the little bastards who kept using my name when they got reefed (I'm looking at you, Granda Jackson - and your scumbag neighbour Kevin Guilfoyle) and of course to the Guinness's of Decie's Road, who inadvertently taught me to fight after beating me up a few times until I lost the rag and cracked your bastard son's head off the edge of the pavement, scarring him for life (it wasn't much of a life - he was dead within two years) and to Katy for the use of her drums.

Again - none of this would be possible without that one vital element: yes, the Mowl.

Here's to sauna, quality of life, happiness, and wrecking Jambo's head.

Thank you - and good night.

 
Thanks, really.

I'd also like to thank my neighbours and friends in Dublin 10, without whom I could never have come so far so fast and so eloquently. To Father Arthur O'Neill for his spiritual guidance, belief in me, and occasional confessions. The people of Ballyfermot lower, the classier end where we're all looking out for each other. To the CIE buses that took us into town. To the factories over the back wall, without whom I would never have been able to afford fresh sticks and drum-heads.

To the staff at Tesco, who never once clocked that I walked out the door with several times more products than I paid for. To the various pubs, all of whom hired me at one stage or another when I was under twelve years old. To the teachers and staff at St John's College, the only school I was booted out of twice but always got back in. To Thomas 'Barney' O'Sullivan, who taught me the value of an apostrophe. To Willy Allen for the book list he slipped me one day and introduced me (and only me) to the wonders of modern literature.

To the local coppers for all the times they came knocking on our door claiming I was in custody at Pearse St/The Bridewell for stealing cars when I was in fact working in Greece most of the time. To the little bastards who kept using my name when they got reefed (I'm looking at you, Granda Jackson - and your scumbag neighbour Kevin Guilfoyle) and of course to the Guinness's of Decie's Road, who inadvertently taught me to fight after beating me up a few times until I lost the rag and cracked your bastard son's head off the edge of the pavement, scarring him for life (it wasn't much of a life - he was dead within two years) and to Katy for the use of her drums.

Again - none of this would be possible without that one vital element: yes, the Mowl.

Here's to sauna, quality of life, happiness, and wrecking Jambo's head.

Thank you - and good night.

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Bad choice of video, that - you should have picked the other one in English.

The best thing about it is her armpits.



She shocked the sensibilities of Urrland's Paddies and Biddies something terrible.
 
You think that "sensibilities are shocked" by a woman with hairy armpits
It was 1984.

In the Ireland of the time, you couldn't buy condoms legally.


Yeps - you certainly DID make a fucking fool of yourself there, Seamus.


Condoms - you had to go to Belfast to buy them.

If you tried crossing the border into Ireland in 1984 carrying condoms/porn/sex toys, you were arrested.

Wake the fuck up, Jimmy - this world moves pretty fast.

You slow cunt.
 
It was 1984.

In the Ireland of the time, you couldn't buy condoms legally.



Yeps - you certainly DID make a fucking fool of yourself there, Seamus.



Condoms - you had to go to Belfast to buy them.

If you tried crossing the border into Ireland in 1984 carrying condoms/porn/sex toys, you were arrested.
Wake the fuck up, Jimmy - this world moves pretty fast.


You slow cunt.
 
He did it again! Val Martin has beaten his own record, 3K subscribers!

Gas the way even a complete fucking crackpot like Val Martin's more popular than you are, isn't it Jambo?

I mean the one thing you do with your time, online from morning til night - whacking your typewriter with those filthy stumps you call fingers a second-hand version of whatever the latest brain-fart on telegram is - and for all your time, effort, consideration, and purpose - you're trailing behind Val Martin to the tune of three thousand people?

There aren't even words to describe how SAD that actually is.

You unbelievably sad bastard.



Yeah - nice one, Mister Irish Nationalist: these black guys you keep trotting out in celebration of your whiteness is telling.

To say the least.

It's telling me that you're too fucking stupid to actually clock how fucking dumb you are.
 
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