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Val's leaving Irish fora.
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com
Val the man, poster valamhic a farmer with cows.
Let us hear your views on poster valamhic. I will soon retire form all sites and and a living obituary would be called for. Say what you like and I ask Dan not to ban anyone on this thread. If you can think of anything bad, go ahead and if you can think of anything good, post it and if...
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com
Lumpy Von Talbot
Member
Val. 1959-2023.
He wasilit, itill, unlit not great with words.
He was
Lumpy Von Talbot
Member
I'd say hundreds of people from beyant in Cavan and Laois have enthusiastically volunteered to go on suicide watch for the fucker. Just to make sure he does it. Only problem now is the 'how'. The oven is too small for his big fat head even with the horns filed down.
He lives in a bungalow so jumping off the roof would only result in explosive methane emission. He'd shoot himself only he'd miss and then he'd be two cartridges short in his ammunition collection that he's had since inheriting the gun from his optimist grandfather at the age of nine. The last time he tried the gun he fired twice and killed the last two sheep that were up in the back bedroom watching re-runs of All Creatures Great and Small on illegal Sky BoringBastard. He hasn't cleaned up yet so he had to nail that door shut in the summer. 1976.
He'd monoxide himself only he'd be afraid forensics would find out he'd been using farm diesel. And the Morris hasn't started since 1982 anyway. He'd hang himself only he keeps blacking out while trying to tie the knot over the beam.
The Frank Spencer of rural suicide. All he has left now is sitting in the remaining bedroom staring out the rain lashed window at the fence next to the shitting ditch, pale bits on the broken palings where three generations of Vals have clutched for safety against falling in, with his report cards from school saying 'we dare say Val will live until he dies' scattered around his minging bed with the purple velour duvet with the Greatest American Hero cover on it he has had since 1981. He's been meaning to wash it but he's afraid he might not be able to sleep without the familiar stench. The heavy silence of expired potential and the smell of a million farts.
He lives in a bungalow so jumping off the roof would only result in explosive methane emission. He'd shoot himself only he'd miss and then he'd be two cartridges short in his ammunition collection that he's had since inheriting the gun from his optimist grandfather at the age of nine. The last time he tried the gun he fired twice and killed the last two sheep that were up in the back bedroom watching re-runs of All Creatures Great and Small on illegal Sky BoringBastard. He hasn't cleaned up yet so he had to nail that door shut in the summer. 1976.
He'd monoxide himself only he'd be afraid forensics would find out he'd been using farm diesel. And the Morris hasn't started since 1982 anyway. He'd hang himself only he keeps blacking out while trying to tie the knot over the beam.
The Frank Spencer of rural suicide. All he has left now is sitting in the remaining bedroom staring out the rain lashed window at the fence next to the shitting ditch, pale bits on the broken palings where three generations of Vals have clutched for safety against falling in, with his report cards from school saying 'we dare say Val will live until he dies' scattered around his minging bed with the purple velour duvet with the Greatest American Hero cover on it he has had since 1981. He's been meaning to wash it but he's afraid he might not be able to sleep without the familiar stench. The heavy silence of expired potential and the smell of a million farts.
Mowl
Member
Val's leaving Irish fora.
Val the man, poster valamhic a farmer with cows.
Let us hear your views on poster valamhic. I will soon retire form all sites and and a living obituary would be called for. Say what you like and I ask Dan not to ban anyone on this thread. If you can think of anything bad, go ahead and if you can think of anything good, post it and if...
He is in my arshe.
That fool will die screaming if he hasn't an audience to watch his idiotic bungling through this life. He's probably booked on a RyanAir flight to Riga to get his teeth looked at by a dentist he can actually afford. If he didn't fly out for dental care, he'd have to glue a few pigs teeth into place on his upper jaw instead.
Val can't get through a day without making a clown of himself.
He's the lunatic side-show act, brainless, toothless, with neither style nor grace.
Plus, the bang off him at twenty paces would floor a cow.
The amount of arse kissing and deference towards Val which goes on at Arsefield's is cringeworthy. It's just feeding into his narcissism and inflated ego for one - which can't be healthy.
Loudmouths such as Val need constant validation, so I doubt this flounce will last more than a week. Val needs attention in order to function just as a Massey Ferguson needs red diesel.
Loudmouths such as Val need constant validation, so I doubt this flounce will last more than a week. Val needs attention in order to function just as a Massey Ferguson needs red diesel.
Mowl
Member
The Nordic ferry ships of Viking Line are currently selling cheap tickets for weekend trips between Helsinki, Stockholm, and Tallin with lots of Finnish bands playing various different stages. These type of events are always carnage: lots of drinking and fucking, beautiful girls everywhere. Affordable, non-stop, and guaranteed to leave you with the hangover of a lifetime.
I might piss off next weekend myself, the first snows are falling and the trees are bare.
This changeover period is always a drag: we find ourselves wishing it would just start sooner so we can get used to it quicker.
I might piss off next weekend myself, the first snows are falling and the trees are bare.
This changeover period is always a drag: we find ourselves wishing it would just start sooner so we can get used to it quicker.
roc_abilly
Member
Last edited:
Mowl
Member
The man has a point.
Everyone's complaining about global warming except us: we're fucking freezing.
The only places worse for the cold than this around this time of the year are Murmansk and Siberia: and that ain't nothing to boast about.
Even the Icelandic lads are in for a hot start to their winter.
Iceland volcano - latest: Smoke rises from ground as scientists say 'everything points to' imminent volcanic eruption in Iceland
Latest updates as smoke rises from the ground on an Icelandic peninsula and thousands of residents of Grindavik are evacuated amid a warning from scientists that everything points to a volcanic eruption in the coming days.
news.sky.com
This lad seems to be struggling with it.
Luciano Michael on Instagram
81K likes, 1,495 comments - luciano_michael_9 on October 27, 2023www.instagram.com
The amount of naive people worldwide who believe America is the land of milk and honey...when in reality it's a shithole for all but the mega-wealthy such as Trump and Musk. The second countries in Europe became wealthy people stopped emigrating to the USA.
My great-grandfather hated the place, and that was a hundred years ago. But people back then didn't really have a choice. My grandmother once told me her father said "Americans are only interested in you if you're wealthy". A century later and the Yanks haven't changed one bit in that regard.
Mowl
Member
Lumpy Von Talbot
Member
That was her best choon in my opinion. Don't like the 80s version of it though. Screams out for more of an X-Ray spex style backing, sawer guitars and sax...
Mowl
Member
I recall hearing her perform the track on some show or other and she tore the roof off the place.
Diminutive little lady, she was lighting up our screens around the same time Madonna was teaching the little girls about sex and how to wear nothing much but a scowl and an air-kiss, much to the chagrin of the parents. The 80s in the UK were one thing - but the 80s in the States? What a disaster, eh. Even bigger mullets. Louder guitars and fat east-coast snare drum beats. It was the horrors. It didn't get much better with time either.
Compare the 1980s version of Lauper's on-stage character with say Poly Styrene in the 1970s and the musical intellectual gap closes to a tiny chink of light.
The British acts were hamming it up, but the American acts were doing that shit for real - which made them look like right fucking twats.
Bigger hair, bigger amps, more drums, more cowbell, higher heels, tighter leggings, and pearly-white all-American perfect teeth.
Poly?
She was the street urchin precursor to the street corner Madonna, Lauper, Benetar, et al.
A horrible musical period that never got to go full circle and become 'hip' all over again two decades later.
Diminutive little lady, she was lighting up our screens around the same time Madonna was teaching the little girls about sex and how to wear nothing much but a scowl and an air-kiss, much to the chagrin of the parents. The 80s in the UK were one thing - but the 80s in the States? What a disaster, eh. Even bigger mullets. Louder guitars and fat east-coast snare drum beats. It was the horrors. It didn't get much better with time either.
Compare the 1980s version of Lauper's on-stage character with say Poly Styrene in the 1970s and the musical intellectual gap closes to a tiny chink of light.
The British acts were hamming it up, but the American acts were doing that shit for real - which made them look like right fucking twats.
Bigger hair, bigger amps, more drums, more cowbell, higher heels, tighter leggings, and pearly-white all-American perfect teeth.
Poly?
She was the street urchin precursor to the street corner Madonna, Lauper, Benetar, et al.
A horrible musical period that never got to go full circle and become 'hip' all over again two decades later.
Lumpy Von Talbot
Member
Nothing. But nothing. Beats Polly Styrene. Only thing that comes remotely close is PJ Harvey's early back catalogue for me. What a voice Polly Styrene had for punk. It was post-punk really because of that gorgeous saxophone addition to the punk guitars but so good that it was punk-classic.
American punk doesn't do it for me and that swing from vague punk dress up to the 1980s keyboard synth stuff was the signal that we should have isolated them back then. Huey Lewis did the 80s thing and ruled it. The end.
It was ... as ephemeral as the 1980s decade itself.
Very, very suspicious of anything describing itself as 'punk' from the New World.
American punk doesn't do it for me and that swing from vague punk dress up to the 1980s keyboard synth stuff was the signal that we should have isolated them back then. Huey Lewis did the 80s thing and ruled it. The end.
It was ... as ephemeral as the 1980s decade itself.
Very, very suspicious of anything describing itself as 'punk' from the New World.
Mowl
Member
A lot of Irish women seem to think they're entitled to expect someone like either of those foppish hairstyles to want to date them, even if they're nineteen stone weight and have badly dyed blond hair and nine inch heels with a right munter's accent. Knackers. Tramps. And awful sluts when they have a few pints in them.
The mere thought of Irish city slags makes me want to puke.
The mere thought of Irish city slags makes me want to puke.