Speaking of Arsefielders, I wonder what the hell Jambo is up to. He must be very busy being a "nationalist".
That, or perhaps he's returned to his '
counter-Jihadi' days.
Man, how I laughed at that one.
He said it in all seriousness too, which rather equates him with the Saul Buckett-level intellect.
These guys honestly think they're moving mountains by posting this level of pap. 'Real as fuck' says one of them about the site. Okay, there is a site and there are members, and the members post all day on a variety of subjects. But to what end? Does Saul really imagine there are people out there who read his schtick and then pump their fists in the air like something really big just happened? Or Jambo, referring to his past as a warrior on the counter-Jihadi issue, all dressed up in his Adventure Kit outfit with a little torch, a compass, a fake gun with some pop-caps, a plastic knife and sheath on his belt, and a small strap-on lamp to wear on his forehead when adventuring out into the kitchen for another Dutch Gold from the fridge in the depths of the night.
Toy soldiers are more active. Those tiny little grey or black or brown soldiers you could buy and paint their uniforms yourself with tiny tins of gloss paint that got under your fingernails and took a week to wear off. Action men, in little boxes wearing all sorts of uniforms and carrying tiny replicas of classic guns like the Luger and war items like the British Sten gun. I used to clip off the stars on the Action Man boxes and after filling a little official book with them, sent away to England and three weeks later a package would arrive for me full of the little items I ordered, which I then sold in the school yard to the kids who weren't allowed out onto the actual streets of Ballyer, just their back garden - which they turned into a battlefield to have wars with other tiny soldier collectors.
Fantasy games, based on snippets of movies they've seen on the telly: yet I don't recall even one kid setting up the gas chambers to toast the Jews in. They were telling us all about it in school, but what they were saying to us was a million miles away from the reality we saw on The World At War:
It was hard to equate these two things at age eight. Yeah,we all knew the stories, we saw the bits of film and lots of photos of piles of bodies in huge holes in the ground. Or that one guy who stared the Germans down as he knelt beside what was to become his mass grave in just a moment. Fully dressed, arms behind his back, a look of grim determination on his wizened and heavily bearded face, they pop him and down he falls in to naked morass of limbs and ribs and feet. Or that Vietnamese guy who gets shot in the temple at point blank range: no questions, no time-wasting, just a quick pop down he goes, his face all creased up from the bullet tearing through his skull and exiting the other side with most of his brain mass and eye muscles spilled out onto the dusty street in a long wet streak of crimson blood. Business as usual. Another day at the office.
So Jambo's 'counter-Jihadi' days?
What were they comprised of? What did he actually do that defined his actions as counter-Jihadi? He used a different source on Telegram than the trio of clowns he re-posts these days? He dressed up for it in faux military fatigues he bought in the camping and military surplus shops along Capel Street? Likely. How exactly did he counter the Jihadi's? By re-posting memes from here and there? How did the Jihadi's respond to his counter attacks? Run away? Laugh at him? Not even be aware that there's some Irish twat out there posting all this shit he knows nothing about apart from what he was told was true and being the lackey he is, never bothered to do the research for himself.
Perhaps today he's out on some counter-Oasis drill?
His big heroes and second-hand chord merchants are reforming to boost the pension pot. Noel's wife took him to the cleaners, he's broke and he needs the money. Why do these twats fall for this shit? Some backstage groupie decides to stop taking the pill and offers her gash to him: gets pregnant, takes him for all he's got. The oldest story in rock'n'roll. Shafted.
Jimmy would be better off either building his own site to see if he's got what it takes, or else just giving up the ghost and start rimming Roundy's hole for him. That might earn him a back-door entrance into the heart of Irish blogging's most unbelievably stupid fucks ever.
Jimmy, the counter-Jihadi champion of Rubik's Cube: takes off all the little coloured stickers and puts them back on in the correct order.
Then declares himself another great victory in the field - countering those pesky Jihadists.
