Are men such as D Feeney, Wolfie and the rest of Arsefield's so angry due to feeling, well should we say inadequate?
It's down to the fact that they're stuck where they are with no way out, in, or through the roof. They hate their country but are too limp to do anything to either (a) improve it, or (b) leave. Post haste. Having a middle-aged wife whose tits and arses point south doesn't help either, never mind the gaggle of little bastard kids. The hilarious part is when I point out to them that things are - if anything - even worse than they realize, then they start in on me - because I'm working class by birth but international by nature, telling me I have no right to criticize their wonderful country.
I mean, if I could just crack their skulls against the corner of a brick wall to shift the aul marbles and see if there's anyone at all home, then I would.
The wives are probably all aware of the legendary BBC, and likely crave it on a daily basis.
Yeah, but Irish women are dirty bitches when they know they're not going to get caught. Over the years touring around Ireland before I left (and on a few occasions after I left) I met and shagged many of them. They know I'm leaving in the morning so they drop the panties while they can to get busy and try out some new things the boyfriend/husband doesn't do.
Right fucking slappers, some of them - but the ones I really enjoyed were the stand-offish, shy sort. Usually Catholics too.
Once they get going it's hell's bells all the way.
I'm a white and Irish male, a lapsed Catholic, independent self-employed entrepreneur with a tasted for the cherry on the cake. That's not available to me in Ireland (at least not any more) but it is to my delectation up here in the world's happiest country.
Maybe this is why all those lads are against immigration and so angry all the time, a fear of the wives leaving them for BBC?
Nah, Irish women are too smart for that: what they do is exactly what they want behind the husband's back, and if he does suss out that she's been playing the scene then she has all the arms, bullets, and targets - while he has fucking NOTHING. No matter the issue, Irish women with kids will ALWAYS get what they want while the men are booted into touch.
It's like having your balls hacked off and then reattached with a few staples and sellotape.
With Irish bitches, there's no winning - only varying degrees of losing.
Thankfully the Finnish ladies are nothing like that.
Which is why I'm so happy to have them around.
Shiny happy Finns, naked in the sauna, naked on the the rooftops, and always willing to get down with the Mowl.
It pleases me greatly that not only do you fools not know what you're missing, but that you'll never get to avail of these things either. Poor aul Wilf's in town at the moment - likely stuck in the airport elevator and lost as to how to get out. Whatever his boss sent him up here for has to be done before he can even think of swinging by my place. In fact, one lad was wandering along in front of me earlier looking around and looking at a map on his phone. So I asked him in Finnish if he was lost. He replied in Finnish, so definitely NOT aul Wilfy.
The poor cunt must be shell-shocked with the cultural shift between Ireland and Finland.
