He was fucking hilarious, really. A right fucking mongrel of a Dub-skanger, he started a thread moaning about Ballyfermot people filling Trocaire boxes for '
the black babies' (
hello 1979!) and why all proper Irish people should boycott them. The Trocaire boxes, I mean. He reckons that the more you send them your charity, the more of them are going to arrive in Dublin airport further down the line looking for more. He said:
'
Boycott the trocaire Lenten box appeal this year
Because the more we send, the more they will send'.
So I asked him what he was griping about, to expand on his rather flimsy OP. He claimed everyone understood him except me. Apart from the fact that nobody had a fucking clue WHAT he banging on about. So I tried to tease it out of him to get to the heart of the matter. Rather than continue with me in public view, he started sending me private messages, so I copy/pasted them back into the public conversation so he could address his (my) audience.
'
You seem quite arty and pseudo-intellectual' he says.
Not wanting to argue about tangential issues I simply agreed and told him that yes, I read and write - if that makes me 'either arty or pseudo-intellectual' in his view. So I pressed on to see what else he had. He private messages me again, this time asking me:
'Are you queer?'
It was hard to stop myself from laughing at him. The few images/photos BBBB other members sent me (
turns out he's notorious in Ballyer) all added up to a right fucking skanger with all the brains of a box of stale muesli. With his big mad potato head to match it. I think he knew more about me than I did about him (
though that didn't last long what with all the other private messages from his neighbours) and told me that session musicians like me are the '
labourers' of the music business. We play on the records but we don't get any share in the songs. Which is entirely correct, so why argue? I do it for the money. So do we all. You'd be very surprised at how few session players Ireland has - but at the same time they/we play(ed) on lots of the records you hear on the radio. We all know each other, we all help each other, and we all do it for the love of it, yes - but the money more than anything else. Certainly not fame.
So Mongo-boy goes on with his private messaging:
He asked me to write a song about '
the starving n*ggers'.
I was about to send him the official video for '
Do They Know It's Christmas Time (Feed The World)' but he clocked the arse he was making of himself trying to handle me and then did a runner and left the group. But not before I pinned his post
so he couldn't delete it. He deleted the live version before flouncing so I published the administrator's pinned copy and kept it open for comment. That way he couldn't delete his own comments on the thread or in the private message stream. Which drove him a bit nuts, as it would. Now his shit's up there for everyone to see. He got another tin pot (literally, check the guy in the last comment in the tin helmet) gobshite to try to restart the argument, but nobody bit - we'd all had our fun by then.
These lunatics actually walk around in public, dragging their knuckles along the wet concrete behind them?
They're your modern Irish '
Nationalists' in full technicolour. Not only that, they're your next in line, Jambo. They're the guys who, unlike you, actually get up off their arses and act on their beliefs. Mongos. Retards. Actual Nazi's in the modern context. These are the type of shite-hawks that clap along to Justin Barret's midgety whining and griping. Who argue the finer points of why James Reynolds is a better man for the job than wee Justin, in his First Holy Communion suit.
When Justin walks down the street, those big mad hands of his leave a trail of pinkish-coloured blood where his knuckles meet the ground.
As for
Eamonn 'Auggie' Deegan?
You nationalists are a fucking gas, really.
So anyway, how tight are you and Eamonn these days, Jambo?
Ever shared a slab with him?
Had the chats?
No?
t.me
