GayYes, darling?
Pointing fingers at you and laugh, you dope-box stunt.
Crap the way none of your names for other bloggers stick?
I mean, when I baptized you Jambo, everyone took to it immediately and mostly because it sums you up. Rhymes with Sambo, an old derogatory term from persons of colour (like my buddy who's African/Irish - and who's still more Irish than you'll ever be) and is also a name that suggests abject stupidity on the behalf of the person wearing it. Which is you. I tease you with Jimmy, Shay, Seamus, and so on but you'll always be Jambo, and it'll always have been me who bestowed it upon you.
lol, againMowl doesn't seem to be working out for you either,
which is even more hilarious than your soapbox dunce effort. Val Martin has bus-loads of names for politicians, he uses them all the time in a mock-serious tone yet nobody anywhere takes him up on these names either. Imagine Val's big mad head leering into the camera, mugging away in a faux-posh voice: 'Richard, mmBOILED-mmCARROTmmn' like he's not a mental-case culchie-thicko missing several front teeth and the occasional bath.
So why not actually use the name for your next username/account after getting booted off Arsefield's?
Why not?I've never had a Ballyfermot accent - or an even vaguely Dublin accent, Jambo.
Your only claim to fameThat's why they picked me to meet Marian Finucane from RTE
Something you had nothing to do withback in the days when we won the all-Ireland schoolboy's GAA championship at Croker.
If you're trying to mimic the Ballyer accent, then get it fucking right, it's 'lay-rer' not lay-er.
Lay-er would more accurately be the term for the local children's playground: as in playground, player, lay-er.
Like my name: the hole, the howl, the mowl, j'mowl.
As in: 'a'righ' dare, j'Mowl?'
The Mowl refers to the small shore outside the front gates of every house in Ballyer, a hole which contains the on/off switch for the water supply to the house when the city council have works going on, or even when the state tried to insert meters into them to gauge how much water they'll be charging you for. Water? Charging you for water? In Ireland, says you? Water? It never fucking STOPS raining. Rivers. Lakes. Ponds, canals, more rivers, lakes, seas, a whole fucking ocean, rain, snow, sleet, fog, mist, rain, lashing rain, dripping rain, hail, people pissing up the walls.
But thanks to the likes of me, you don't have to pay through the nose for the few dribbles to shower in or something brew up your tay.
So anyway, back to you not being able to affix names to persons.
Bet you wish you were better at it than you are?
Here, this classic (timestamped) song celebrates your inner Jambo, your 'Jambo-Jumbo' as it were:
lol, again
Why not?
Your only claim to fame
Something you had nothing to do with
NoYou wish.
Glad to be of service, Mr The Equalizer.
Because the other kids hated your guts? Figures..Because I didn't spend very much time on the streets of D10 - or mingling with schoolmates as a child, obviously.
Nah, and we've covered this before now.
My works will still be here long after I've shuffled off this blah-blah-blingbang.
The only record of you having ever existed will be a rather large file at the Labour Exchange covering the years from age eighteen to whatever you are now.
They put you on the subs bench to keep you happy and you think that that means you played for the team?Apart from having played with the team, you're fairly close.
Oh, and those medals I won.
Citywest plantation centre, Dublin, today -Actually, everybody was Kung Fu fighting.
Those cats? They were as fast as lightning.