Chat 🔥🤬General Chat Thread

[Mowl]

Mowl, remember when I challenged you to start the Food and Beverages thread yourself,

Writing about food is like fishing about architecture.

to do something positive for the site?

My mere existence already covers that aspect.

And what did you do

Nothing.

- nothing

Nothing at all.

(story of your life)

Which is how I ended up up here and you're still stuck there.

So I did it myself,

Like everything else in your sex life.

and it's a happy, cheerful, funny thread, which now has 500K+ views.

Jimmy, it has 50 clicks.

At best it'll reach a pinnacle of 57.

See what a bit of positivity can do to your life, Mowl?

My life?

My life is good.

Don't you get tired of just being negative all the time?

Not when it comes to clattering you around the place.

We notice you often sink into these morose periods more and more frequently wherein you start whining about things you'd otherwise bristle at.
Is that down to the demon drink and how you handle your hangovers after a slab of cheap beer?
Or are you lacking a natural diuretic?
For your period pains, like?

 

[AN4]

I'm sorry, I'm sorry for your troubles.

You're clearly a deeply unhappy man. But you need to realise that manifesting that in your anti-social behaviour is not going to curry you any friends. Except for David

 

[Mowl]

Time-stamped for AN4 's attention, it's Val Martin talking about (and singing along) music from his 'day' way back.

He name-checks Chuck Berry, The Bee Gees, Saturday Night Fever, The Bee Gees, The Bee Gees, Grease (The Musical), The Bee Gees, and a little dollop of The Bee Gees before launching into a song by The Bee Gees. I've only watched a few minutes of it, but you have to hear Val sing. It's like waiting for Noel Gallagher to write a song that isn't already a Beatles classic from over fifty years ago.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry for your troubles.

Ah, you're grand - have another few tins, you're starting to weep again.

You're clearly a deeply unhappy man.

But you need to realise that manifesting that in your anti-social behaviour is not going to curry you any friends.

Jimmy, even if I was roll you up like a sushi snack, you'd still smell of stale sperm.

Except for David

Neither David nor I are quite as piteous as to be looking for friends online, Jimmy.

I understand that for you it's your only outlet/opportunity to meet other people, but we have lives.

Tell you what: have a wee singalong with Val there and drink in between lyrics, you'll be in grand form in no time.

I think you need it, your nerves are clearly at you.

 

[AN4]

David thoroughly embarrassed himself when he said, just a moment ago, upthread, what separates us from our primate cousins is millions of years of evolution.

When did our primate cousins stop evolving the Mowl, you know, just stood there looking at us (humans) marching off into the distance on our evolutionary way, only to meet up with us again millions of years later

I mean, I'm not even sure that you would think something so stupid (but you probably would)

David's other contributions to adult conversations are usually along the calibre of - Who would win in a fight, a lion or a tiger?

By all means, circle jerk each other, don't let me stop you and you are quite suited. But I think that you, even you, are a tiny bit more adult than him

 

[Mowl]

Quit your fucking moaning and have a laugh.

Alright then, here's one you might like. Years back, my cousin was getting married. He wanted to throw a party for everyone in the family along with their partners and he had the cash to throw at it too. So he calls me and tells me his plan, then asks me if I had any advice about how to book a band to play the wedding night of a three-night weekender event and how to set about putting on a party for say seventy people. So I tell him to simply leave it to me, gimme the number/website for the hotel and I'll take it from there. So at first he's grand with this and I set about finding a decent party band who can cater for a specific type of event along the lines of how I do it up here for wedding date clients who book The Senators Of Helsinki.

So I find him a great band: they had a great website, lots of happy customers left reviews, so I sourced a live video of them and they were great. Boys in suits, the girls in cocktail dresses, hair done, make-up on, singing great harmonies and really working the songs. The crucial point was simple: it's how I always did things. I don't need to see any of your set lists, instead I want to send you mine, and you'll have to have these songs ready and cooking. No worries came the reply. Great. So I send them a list of around sixty songs in total. I want the stage set and sound check done and dusted BEFORE any guests arrive. If that means you have to arrive at 0830, then so be it. So they agree, no problem, that's how we do it anyway.

Grand.

Then later on the cousin calls and I tell him everything's set up: I have the band booked, they have the schedule, they're professional, they know exactly what to do and I talked them into doing a free acoustic set after the main-stage event is over and they're starting to pack up. The cousin says there's a problem, the Missus has a brother or whatever and he wants to take over the running of the gig because you're so far away. I tell him everything's already done, here's the band details, this is the fee, I sent them the list of songs, I booked them for four live sets, first set has formal dances for the bride and groom, the parents, etc. Then some classic traditional pieces (foxtrot, tango, rhumba, etc) and from Set 2 onwards they'll be playing all the tunes you asked for, along with an offstage acoustic singalong at the end of the night. Yeah, great, he says. But I have to let her take over from here, she's worried.

Whatever, have a great night - let me know if you need any further help.

Fast forward a couple of months and I get a call, it's himself calling me from the hotel.

Story? All grand?
No, there's been a fuck up.
What happened?
This isn't the right band.
What do you mean?
It's the wrong fucking band.
How so?
You booked us The Heebie-Geebies, right?
Yeah, great little band, hundreds of tracks, long list of happy customers.
Yeah, that's them.
So what's up?
That's not who showed up.
What do you mean?
This is the wrong band.
Who the fuck are they then?
These are called The Heeby-Bee-Gees.
What?
The Heeby-fucking Bee-Gees!
I don't get it?
The band YOU booked are The Heebie-Geebies.
Yeah?
This band is The Heeby-Bee-Gees.
And?
They only play Bee Gees songs.
What?
They're dressed in white suits with flared pants, wigs, sunglasses, they're even doing the dance moves.
What's the problem then?
They don't play anything else except the fucking Bee Gees.
Are they any good?
They're great - but not at me fucking wedding, she's going mental.
Hah hah!
Fuck you.
Hah haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, sorry, can't stop fucking laughing here.
She's going mental, her Da's having a seizure, he has to pay the cunts.
Hah hahahaa!
He asked them to play some Beatles or Dylan or anything.
And?
They can't, they only have this computer full of Bee Gees backing tracks.
And?
And three of them dancing out front - in white 3-piece suits, big sunglasses, and even bigger heels.
What do you want me to do?
You fucking tell her.
Tell her what?
That YOU booked them.
I didn't - I booked The Heebie-Geebies.
What?
The Heebie fucking Geebies.
What am I going to do?
Dance.
Fuck you.
Have a few drinks, you'll be grand.
She's going fucking mental, they're singing all the sad songs too.
Tell them not to - they're your band for the night.
I did, they can't.
So what the fuck do you want ME to do?
This is your fault.
No it isn't: I gave you the website details, the number, the names, I told you to write them down.
I did, but maybe I didn't spell it right.
Spell what right?
The name of the band.
Could you not fucking SEE that they were a Bee Gees cover band?
I didn't look, I just told her the name.
And that's my fault how?
You said it.
You misspelled it.
Yeah, but you said it.
No - you did, to her - you should've wrote it down.
Ah for fuck's sake.
For fuck's sake what?
This is fucked up.
Are the guests dancing?
Yeah, they're all over the floor.
Then what's the fucking problem?
This is costing her Da nearly five grand.
So?
It's not even the right band.
Well, then you should have left it to me.
I did, it was her, she started worrying about things.
Well, she can forget it by now - tell her to dance and get on with it.
Are you serious?
Lookit: it is what it is, you've fuck all choice now.
Yeah, but there was supposed to be a singsong bit for the guests.
Yeah, I know - I booked that for you.
Yeah, but these shower don't have the right gear to play any.
Not much I can do - ask the hotel for a guitar.
And who'll play it?
Ask the band.
They don't play, they only sing and dance - they even built a fucking stage ON the fucking stage.
What?
They build a stage for dancing on so we can hear their heels clicking.
What?
A stage for dancing on.
Sounds like great craic, what's the problem?
They only have enough songs for two sets - Grease and Saturday Night Fever.
Hah hahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
You fucking cunt.
Hah hahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
She's going to fucking kill me.
Hah haaaaaaaaaa.. ..sorry.. ..haaaaaaaaaaa!
The aul-fella's a face on him like a wet Sunday.
Tell him to get up and dance.
No fucking way I'm going near him.
Hah!
Cunt.
Hah hah!
Bollocks.
You can dance to Grease, and Saturday Night Fever is classic disco.
Yeah - but not four fucking times in a row.
Hah hah!
They thought they were to play two sets: first Grease, then Saturday Night Fever.
And can they?
Yeah, but this is a fucking wedding.
I know.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
I don't know.
But you planned this.
No I didn't.
Yes you did.
No, I arranged a booking for The Heebie-Jeebies, all you needed to do was confirm and put a deposit.
Yeah, and now look?
That's your Missus' fault, not mine.
She's blaming you.
Then let her.
Your Ma's here too.
Oh shit! Is she dancing?
No, but she's pissing herself laughing - everyone is.
Everyone?
Well, apart from me and the wife.
Hah haha!
And the father in law.
Lookit, I don't know what to say other than thanks - haven't laughed like this in yonks.
Fuck you.
Sorry!
Fuck YOU!
Hah hahahaaaaaaaaaaa!
Fucking cunt.
Pahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Here, she wants to talk to you.
Click.

Fuck that.

Best wedding day photo album ever, by the way.

 

[AN4]

Quit your fucking moaning and have a laugh.

Alright then, here's one you might like. Years back, my cousin was getting married. He wanted to throw a party for everyone in the family along with their partners and he had the cash to throw at it too. So he calls me and tells me his plan, then asks me if I had any advice about how to book a band to play the wedding night of a three-night weekender event and how to set about putting on a party for say seventy people. So I tell him to simply leave it to me, gimme the number/website for the hotel and I'll take it from there. So at first he's grand with this and I set about finding a decent party band who can cater for a specific type of event along the lines of how I do it up here for wedding date clients who book The Senators Of Helsinki.

So I find him a great band: they had a great website, lots of happy customers left reviews, so I sourced a live video of them and they were great. Boys in suits, the girls in cocktail dresses, hair done, make-up on, singing great harmonies and really working the songs. The crucial point was simple: it's how I always did things. I don't need to see any of your set lists, instead I want to send you mine, and you'll have to have these songs ready and cooking. No worries came the reply. Great. So I send them a list of around sixty songs in total. I want the stage set and sound check done and dusted BEFORE any guests arrive. If that means you have to arrive at 0830, then so be it. So they agree, no problem, that's how we do it anyway.

Grand.

Then later on the cousin calls and I tell him everything's set up: I have the band booked, they have the schedule, they're professional, they know exactly what to do and I talked them into doing a free acoustic set after the main-stage event is over and they're starting to pack up. The cousin says there's a problem, the Missus has a brother or whatever and he wants to take over the running of the gig because you're so far away. I tell him everything's already done, here's the band details, this is the fee, I sent them the list of songs, I booked them for four live sets, first set has formal dances for the bride and groom, the parents, etc. Then some classic traditional pieces (foxtrot, tango, rhumba, etc) and from Set 2 onwards they'll be playing all the tunes you asked for, along with an offstage acoustic singalong at the end of the night. Yeah, great, he says. But I have to let her take over from here, she's worried.

Whatever, have a great night - let me know if you need any further help.

Fast forward a couple of months and I get a call, it's himself calling me from the hotel.

Story? All grand?
No, there's been a fuck up.
What happened?
This isn't the right band.
What do you mean?
It's the wrong fucking band.
How so?
You booked us The Heebie-Geebies, right?
Yeah, great little band, hundreds of tracks, long list of happy customers.
Yeah, that's them.
So what's up?
That's not who showed up.
What do you mean?
This is the wrong band.
Who the fuck are they then?
These are called The Heeby-Bee-Gees.
What?
The Heeby-fucking Bee-Gees!
I don't get it?
The band YOU booked are The Heebie-Geebies.
Yeah?
This band is The Heeby-Bee-Gees.
And?
They only play Bee Gees songs.
What?
They're dressed in white suits with flared pants, wigs, sunglasses, they're even doing the dance moves.
What's the problem then?
They don't play anything else except the fucking Bee Gees.
Are they any good?
They're great - but not at me fucking wedding, she's going mental.
Hah hah!
Fuck you.
Hah haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, sorry, can't stop fucking laughing here.
She's going mental, her Da's having a seizure, he has to pay the cunts.
Hah hahahaa!
He asked them to play some Beatles or Dylan or anything.
And?
They can't, they only have this computer full of Bee Gees backing tracks.
And?
And three of them dancing out front - in white 3-piece suits, big sunglasses, and even bigger heels.
What do you want me to do?
You fucking tell her.
Tell her what?
That YOU booked them.
I didn't - I booked The Heebie-Geebies.
What?
The Heebie fucking Geebies.
What am I going to do?
Dance.
Fuck you.
Have a few drinks, you'll be grand.
She's going fucking mental, they're singing all the sad songs too.
Tell them not to - they're your band for the night.
I did, they can't.
So what the fuck do you want ME to do?
This is your fault.
No it isn't: I gave you the website details, the number, the names, I told you to write them down.
I did, but maybe I didn't spell it right.
Spell what right?
The name of the band.
Could you not fucking SEE that they were a Bee Gees cover band?
I didn't look, I just told her the name.
And that's my fault how?
You said it.
You misspelled it.
Yeah, but you said it.
No - you did, to her - you should've wrote it down.
Ah for fuck's sake.
For fuck's sake what?
This is fucked up.
Are the guests dancing?
Yeah, they're all over the floor.
Then what's the fucking problem?
This is costing her Da nearly five grand.
So?
It's not even the right band.
Well, then you should have left it to me.
I did, it was her, she started worrying about things.
Well, she can forget it by now - tell her to dance and get on with it.
Are you serious?
Lookit: it is what it is, you've fuck all choice now.
Yeah, but there was supposed to be a singsong bit for the guests.
Yeah, I know - I booked that for you.
Yeah, but these shower don't have the right gear to play any.
Not much I can do - ask the hotel for a guitar.
And who'll play it?
Ask the band.
They don't play, they only sing and dance - they even built a fucking stage ON the fucking stage.
What?
They build a stage for dancing on so we can hear their heels clicking.
What?
A stage for dancing on.
Sounds like great craic, what's the problem?
They only have enough songs for two sets - Grease and Saturday Night Fever.
Hah hahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
You fucking cunt.
Hah hahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
She's going to fucking kill me.
Hah haaaaaaaaaa.. ..sorry.. ..haaaaaaaaaaa!
The aul-fella's a face on him like a wet Sunday.
Tell him to get up and dance.
No fucking way I'm going near him.
Hah!
Cunt.
Hah hah!
Bollocks.
You can dance to Grease, and Saturday Night Fever is classic disco.
Yeah - but not four fucking times in a row.
Hah hah!
They thought they were to play two sets: first Grease, then Saturday Night Fever.
And can they?
Yeah, but this is a fucking wedding.
I know.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
I don't know.
But you planned this.
No I didn't.
Yes you did.
No, I arranged a booking for The Heebie-Jeebies, all you needed to do was confirm and put a deposit.
Yeah, and now look?
That's your Missus' fault, not mine.
She's blaming you.
Then let her.
Your Ma's here too.
Oh shit! Is she dancing?
No, but she's pissing herself laughing - everyone is.
Everyone?
Well, apart from me and the wife.
Hah haha!
And the father in law.
Lookit, I don't know what to say other than thanks - haven't laughed like this in yonks.
Fuck you.
Sorry!
Fuck YOU!
Hah hahahaaaaaaaaaaa!
Fucking cunt.
Pahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Here, she wants to talk to you.
Click.

Fuck that.

Best wedding day photo album ever, by the way.

Weddings? This is how I always dance at weddings -



PS. Keep your stories shorter. Tldr etc.

 

[Mowl]

Nothing worse than the drunk uncle dance, Jimmy.

PS: keep your PS's on point. Tldr, etc.

 

[AN4]

Do you think d'Africans voodoo will work on Arnotts?

 

[Mowl]

Someone should tell yer man that those windows won't be any cleaner than they already are using that sort of dusting technique.

Also, that mask/helmet ensemble he's wearing will never stop the Covid, but if he fucks off over to Rome he can start a proper sword fight in the Colosseum.

 

[AN4]

Someone should tell yer man that those windows won't be any cleaner than they already are using that sort of dusting technique.

Also, that mask/helmet ensemble he's wearing will never stop the Covid, but if he fucks off over to Rome he can start a proper sword fight in the Colosseum.

Sure if he had a pint of Guinness in one hand and a bag of Tayto in the other you'd say he's more Irish than me

 

[AN4]

Young Irish liberal woman recounts being sexually harassed by a Deliveroo, prefaces it by saying that her intention isn't to stir up hate, so we know he wasn't Irish (quelle surprise) -

https://x.com/TadhgCalbhaigh/status/2059226415145390258

 

[Mowl]

Sure if he had a pint of Guinness in one hand and a bag of Tayto in the other you'd say he's more Irish than me

Jimmy, a worn out five euro note is more Irish than you'll ever be.

What's the last thing you did for your country?

If you want to see my efforts, spend an afternoon in The National Maritime Museum out in Dunlaoire some time.

I used to have my lunch up next to the massive bell in the bell-tower: a view unlike any in Dublin, three-sixty from the Wicklow mountains across to Howth head where the optic from the original Baily lighthouse used to stand, but is now on the altar of the Mariner's church, which is now the museum. That gallery front? That was previously manky but the Mowl soon sorted that out.

I have dozens of calligraphic signs all over the exhibition area and I can find my way around the basement catacombs in the dark: which I used to have to do.

My name is listed on the board in what used to be Stella Archer's managerial office as a contributory staff member who worked on the renovation back in the day.

It'll still be there long after you've shuffled off this mortal coil.

Speaking of mortal coils, any sign of you getting some paid work at all?

 

[AN4]

Jimmy, a worn out five euro note is more Irish than you'll ever be.

What's the last thing you did for your country?

If you want to see my efforts, spend an afternoon in The National Maritime Museum out in Dunlaoire some time.

I used to have my lunch up next to the massive bell in the bell-tower: a view unlike any in Dublin, three-sixty from the Wicklow mountains across to Howth head where the optic from the original Baily lighthouse used to stand, but is now on the altar of the Mariner's church, which is now the museum. That gallery front? That was previously manky but the Mowl soon sorted that out.

I have dozens of calligraphic signs all over the exhibition area and I can find my way around the basement catacombs in the dark: which I used to have to do.

My name is listed on the board in what used to be Stella Archer's managerial office as a contributory staff member who worked on the renovation back in the day.

It'll still be there long after you've shuffled off this mortal coil.

Speaking of mortal coils, any sign of you getting some paid work at all?

Mowl, how many times have I told you that one does not get to choose their ethnicity?

 

[Mowl]

Mowl, how many times have I told you that one does not get to choose their ethnicity?

That'll be the first, Jimmy.

On the beer already eh.

 

[AN4]

That'll be the first, Jimmy.

On the beer already eh.

Okay, but do you understand - One cannot choose one's ethnicity?

 

[Mowl]

Okay, but do you understand - One cannot choose one's ethnicity?

I was born Irish.

But not by choice.

You were born in Ireland.

That's about as good as it gets for the British Dawson family line.

 

[AN4]

I was born Irish.

Sure

But not by choice.

Also true

You were born in Ireland.

Like your African friend was? Or was he?

That's about as good as it gets for the British Dawson family line.

Okay, so you don't think that I'm Irish because I was born here...

 

[AN4]

Young Irish liberal woman recounts being sexually harassed by a Deliveroo, prefaces it by saying that her intention isn't to stir up hate, so we know he wasn't Irish (quelle surprise) -

https://x.com/TadhgCalbhaigh/status/2059226415145390258

 

[Mowl]

Sure

See?

I'm always right.

Also true

Indeed.

Like your African friend was?

Yes, he was.

Or was he?

Yes, as I said just now - he was.

Okay, so you don't think that I'm Irish because I was born here...

No, rather because your name is Dawson.

A very British name.

You may argue that Dublin has a Dawson Street, but that's a very old name from a long time ago when you Brits used to run the island.

So with that in mind, yes - my black mate is more Irish than you.

 

[AN4]

See?

I'm always right.



Indeed.

Yes, he was.



Yes, as I said just now - he was.

Okay, good

So you agree that that doesn't make him Irish, you've finally understood the concept of - being born in a stable doesn't make you a horse

Some progress, I suppose..

No, rather because your name is Dawson.

A very British name.

You may argue that Dublin has a Dawson Street, but that's a very old name from a long time ago when you Brits used to run the island.

So with that in mind, yes - my black mate is more Irish than you.