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The Ugly Mob and The Catholic Church

What Israel is accused of is unending. If 30% of the internet is devoted to porn, there must be 60% of it devoted to demonising Israel. But do you ever note who the loudest accusers are? If you're talking states, it is the world's worst human rights abusers who are loudest in these...
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Hi Dave. How's the wife?
 


So now you know who's who, let me remind you of one thing, Reilly: Swordid works for me - not you. Now get back into your 1973 Corolla and clean your shit up. Living in your car at the end of runway one is all life has to offer you. That and going to English ale houses to use their toilets and drink their rancid plonk, like the scumbag gay-boy you are.

All your Sirs and Ma'am's mean fuck all to me, you typical knacker paddy-whacker.

No wonder everyone hates you.
 
Myles seems to think I'm a Christy Moore fanatic. Yet the only people around here who listen to CM are drunken old farts down in the pub.
 


Here, O'Reilly - get yourself a fucking life you terminally sad bastard.

Nobody here drinks in Shitterspoon's, we leave that to bland losers and dull fuckers like yourself.

Odd too that the rumours about your Ma seem to suggest a loose woman who rather enjoyed her time working nights along the Merrion Row of the 1970's?

Any idea (at all) who your Da might be, Sir?

Some handicapped and stuttering culchie bloke fresh out of St John Of God's who she had to fuck (for a tenner) while he was safely strapped into his wheelchair and dribbling evenly down both sides of his babbling lips?

Or was it some rather large and very, very black-skinned man from Nigeria?

Nah?

Wheelchair it is so.
 
I see your best bud and Spoon's Bro Wolfie is also on the cheap imported Dutch or Romanian lager tonight?

Check his spasticated bastardization of the only language he speaks right here:



Here, Wooftie:

Mute: 1. : lacking the power of speech. 2. : characterized by absence of speech: such as.: felt or experienced but not expressed.

Moot: 1. : subject to debate, dispute, or uncertainty. 2. : an assembly held for debate, especially in Anglo-Saxon and medieval times.

So not only are you a grade A moron and a surprisingly ignorant little cunt for the 'Poster Of The Month' on Arsefield's every month level twat you are, you also have that sad and grasping yearning for wisdom of the sort you'll never attain. I know, it's a mute point. And it's also archtypical of you to make such a rookie mistake.

Of course, archtypical isn't even a real word, Wooftie, is it?

But innit amazing the way (for a second there) you thought it was?

Like mute.

It's moot.

In your case.
 
'My Trip across the USA' by Declan 'Roundy' Kelly (aged 67)



The state of this little cunt? Has all the eloquence and gravitas of an aging Ronald McDonald clown on his rare day off and driving his van around in circles to fill in the time. He's on his way to 'Spokane WAAAshingtin' he says, in his best yankee/culchie accent. It's not his trip either: it's his son Eric's trip. Eric decided to hire his Da so he finally had a few quid in is pocket to take Marianne out for something nice that wasn't a McDonald's happy meal.

An awful fucking idiot, he's been banging on about driving tourists around in his auld van for years by now but doesn't seem to have been bothered by the rather loud humming of the engine drowning out everything he says, which for the punter is a win/win. That way they can just nod occasionally and pretend to be listening to him babble on and on. They probably all wear wireless ear-phones anyway, using a free internet guide book for tourists visiting Spokane, the loudest word in any sentence Roundy makes.

Anyway, Common Sense is the name of Roundy's new youtube page: one built to compete directly with Val, his in-bred cousin from Cavan, co Cavan.

This is Val's typical youtube quotient:



As you can see, Val's topped the one million views marker earlier this week, and his page is gathering more members as his popularity with his fellow culchies grows. Val can dress any way he pleases, speak any way he wants, show off the gappy gums, be as manky as he likes, and wear whatever filthy auld thing comes to hand.

This is Roundy's current quotient:



Sadly, Roundy isn't quite so popular. He has less than two thousand views and has only the two subscribers. Twenty-nine video uploads, and all of them with him droning on in the background like the drunk guy down the end of the bar nobody ever talks to. Declan wants to be popular. And of course the first rule to being popular is to not even know about it. Seeking it out is about the single most un-hip thing any geriatric van driver looking for popularity can do. Being sixty-seven and still trying to be liked by strangers is the very definition of creepy. Droning on and on like retired a hypnotherapist driving the van does not new friends make: some guided tours are silent for good reason. The guide is there to guide, to read the map, to know the lay of the land. And the tourist likely wants to enjoy the experience they paid for in silence and without some sweaty little culchie in their ear bugging the shite out of them.

I'd say Val also gives a better van-driver's tour experience. Stick a pair of big mad wellingtons on and hop into his auld 1975 Ford Transit and across the slurry fields we go to have a gander at the Shitting Ditch. Val shouting all the way: 'whoa jaze, tha's fierce craic.. ..fierce - wha'?'

He could also serenade you in the evening time on the way back, exhausted, and stinking of slurry, but well satisfied with 'De Culchie Hexpeareyance'. No need for the two chord/two strings-missing cheap acoustic guitar accompaniment: just his lungs and his 'dooty-doo, dooty-doo, tra-la-la, an' they're all scratchin'...'

All in all, Declan's a failure. He's too old for this lark. He looks like he could keel over any moment from the blood pressure. He's about two dozen Big Mac's short of a heart attack. He needs to lay off the cakes and cheeseburgers. And the two liter gulps of Pepsi. Perhaps then he might understand basic grammar and stop using random capital letters For Some words In some Sentences, and Others nOt SO much.

If he keeps that shit up, He's Going to Start reading Like ~ ~ Clark/Connolly ! ! !
 

General Chat For All To Read.

There’s hope for the human race yet…🙂 View: https://x.com/thefigen_/status/1832763693538455958?s=46
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com


Half a million views because you keep clicking on it a few thousand times a day lol.
 
David said:

General Chat For All To Read.

There’s hope for the human race yet…🙂 View: https://x.com/thefigen_/status/1832763693538455958?s=46
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com


Half a million views because you keep clicking on it a few thousand times a day lol.
Click to expand...

I read somewhere recently that men who fuss about numbers and percentages, math and money, generally tend to have tiny little wee-wee's for willies.

Of course, the heft of Roundy and his saggy arm-flaps is more comedic than nature pulling him up short in the underpants department.

Size matters, as you can see in this curious image of Roundy's son Eric: look at the size of the lad and then look at the size of the 'veh-hickle' beside him?



I reckon the Kelly's are all midgets.

Fat midgets.
 
America is such a brash and cultureless shithole, I can't wait until China surpasses them.
 
It's most of the way there already. In my neighbourhood, just ten minutes walk away, is the outlet for both of Finland's highest quality Arabia and Iittala glassware and crockery. It used to be the factory for Arabia design (now you know where the name comes from) and to reflect that, the architects who designed this neighbourhood were instructed to incorporate as many references to the historic site of the Arabia factory in the blocks provided for Heka, the city authority I rent from. So most blocks have materials from the factory set into them: one favourite is the archway that separates my block from the next one: each and every red brick has a few lines of Finnish poetry carved into the bricks. Under and over them, sections are filled with smashed up pieces of Arabia's design themes on plates, saucers, cups, and whatever else. Tiny details you may not even notice at first, but when you do, it's magical.

Anyway, the sheer numbers of Chinese people using my tram lines is non-stop: they start at all hours of the morning and they're still coming and going at 2000. All spending large amounts of money, as many of them just visit and pick their choices from the showrooms, have the shop pack them and send them forward via FedEx or whatever system they choose. Those who carry their purchases usually take a taxi back to the hotel, they're weighed down with some much craft works and they seem to fling money at everything on display.

Young and old, though lately it's more young Chinese, especially ladies. Chinese women don't have the natural beauty Japanese ladies cultivate, their heads and features are a kind of beauty that's beyond my tastes, though they look very well maintained. They rarely laugh or smile, they definitely don't talk to strangers and they move in packs of six to ten when out and about. They also take all these photos of the weirdest shit. Like Roundy Kelly with the car parks and delivery bays, they take pictures of street signs, shores in the pavements, points boxes, overhead cabling, drains along the pathways, etc.

But they have money to burn.

That's what's going to tip America off her perch, and I believe it'll happen in our lifetime.

The Chinese out-money them, out-population them, out-work them, are healthier in general terms and prepared for anything.

Americans are fat, lazy, dim, uninspired, greedy, ignorant, passionate about the worst kinds of bullshit, and easy to con.

Time - that's America's current biggest enemy: no matter if it's Trump or Harris, they're on their way down the ladder politically, culturally, and economically.

It'll be great watching them scarper for a safe place to hide once the Chinese start buying up their cities - watch out Ireland: that's why they claim Irish ancestry, so they can relocate back to their spiritual home when Yong Pii and Zing Madong start buying up their houses and lands.

Take twelve American soldiers and set them up against twelve Chinese soldiers and let's see who's willing to fight to the end and be left standing.

I know where my money's going.
 
Countries such as China and Japan are ancient cultures which place an emphasis on the group and nature (Chinese civilisation is 5,000 years old). Americans by contrast are just selfish pigs who only care about money and large shiny toys such as SUVs. Look at American cities for instance- hideously ugly sprawls, their houses poorly constructed and lacking any sense of architectural cohesion. Everything in the USA is about money, money, money!

The Yanks are soon to be overtaken by the Chinese, whether they like it or not. China is also enormous, with a population of 1.4 billion...so hardly another tiny Central American or Middle Eastern country that the Americans can bully and threaten out of its resources.
 
Poor Frank. I mean, to be perfectly frank, Frank - I frankly don't give a damn.

And worse again, but Declan deletes you every time you mention me.

PS: next time, try adding the comments to see if you can get a rise from me.

The gas part of it is that if I felt like it, I could eat nine dinners and three lunches in one sitting, and still look svelte. In Dave's case, every double cheesburger brings double the guilt, but the fat fuck still can't stop himself. Dave, only sluts are interested in fat men. Fat men in cheap shoes, not really. Fat men with a cheeseburger in their shirt pocket even less. Baldy conscience sorts with a load of grease to slick their cow-licks back into place are a total turn-off for any girl. Waking up next to an oily stain on her pillows from your big fat head? No second date there, Dave. Just a dose of herpes and a tinge of gonorrhea for you, laddie.

You know that song 'Walk This Way' by Aerosmith?

You know the other version of it with RUN DMC?

Yeah?

Hang your bollocks on it.

While you're busy being obnoxious, I'm busy being gorgeous.

It's that simple, fat-boy.

Mad the way you're almost perfectly round, innit?

Roundy Feeney.

Has a ring to it alright.
 
By the way, Alexandra is the daughter of Keith Donald, saxophone and Lafleur player for the Moving Hearts.

The Lafleur is the smallest of the horn family: very cute sounding in the right hands.

His daughter Alexandra and I had a project called 'The Back Door Lounge' covering classic songs by Dusty Springfield and Nina Simone. She has a hot and dusky voice that just melts my heart and ears. Stunningly beautiful, a hot DJ with a lost of clients that'd make your eyes water. She's one of my main-squeezes on the Dublin jazz scene. Wonderful voice, enchanting presence, and as beautiful as any Irish girl can get.



See? That's the difference between svelte and swollen: I'm the former while you're the latter.

Ladies like Alex know what they want, what they like, who they want to be seen with.

In case you don't get the reference, she's talking about how I look akin to Karl Lagerfelt mixed with that smokey element of Daphne Guinness's styling.

It's hard being this handsome in Helsinki of all places - in fact, it's amazing I get anything else done at all, know what I mean, Dave?

Here's Alex again, this time with her Dad, Keith - brilliant musician and amazing arranger to work for: he did all our arrangements for Alex's first live shows singing with a full band. Nice the way they're quite obviously beautiful people? Like me. Not like you though. Sucks being fat and greasy, eh Dave?

Moving Hearts: 'Hiroshima/Nagasaki'

 
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Lumpy Von Talbot said:
I get in trouble sometimes for pointing out that peasants still exist (in all western countries) whereas people tend to think of them as something of the past. 'Val' is almost certainly an example of what I mean.
Click to expand...


There's nothing worse than when Paddy-the-Peasant comes into money, the muck savage who now considers himself to be Lord Muck.
 
David said:
There's nothing worse than when Paddy-the-Peasant comes into money, the muck savage who now considers himself to be Lord Muck.
Click to expand...

The Celtic Tiger.

Enough said.

Or maybe not.

I was already out when the real shit hit the fan. I mean on the ascent rather than the descent. Around the late 90s when things started to move really fast and everyone on the shitty little island started to smell cheap money. Rents, daily spends, everything started moving twice as fast so money was being flung around like confetti. I watched in horror as knackers started booking tables in expensive restaurants where they shoveled whatever was brought to their table down their necks like a bag of chips.

Steak dinners. Everywhere I went, people flashing cash, people telling me I was mad to move to Finland, even if I was coming back a few times a year for gigs. Hit and run for me: agree to the work, fly in, get things done, take it in cash, leave again. That way I was able to build two fat bank accounts in both Finland and Ireland. I was living high on the hog's back: no taxes (which I dodged like Ali v Frazier) and my flights and expenses drafted into my fees.

That I was working mainly in bars and restaurants gave me the bird's eye view on what Paddy and Bridie were all about: planning skiing trips in winter, visiting exotic islands during summer, the three cars in the driveway, the massive house in the middle of nowhere, blah, blah, blah. It stank to high heaven. But I kept my nose to the wheel and worked twice as hard for several times the fees I was previously used to. Money for nothing, almost.

Muck savages is the perfect description for them.

I found pretty much all of it rather disgusting, but then I have no allegiances to Ireland: she fucked my life up more than once so I felt perfectly justified in raping her coffers every chance I got. If I had too much work going on, I'd simply raise the prices by 20% and see who was still interested. They all were, that's when it really sank in: 'this is not going to end well for you guys'.

Fast forward ten years and what have you got? The bills are being sent out, the banks want their money back. They want the keys if you can't pay. So things starred to choke up and stagnate. By then I was on firm footing in Helsinki. I did a few more years of hit and run until it started becoming less and less worth the stress and effort of enduring Dublin and Ireland in general. By 2013 I was winding down my affairs in Ireland and concentrating all my efforts here instead.

Now it's all over, the field is in a rotten state; it can't be fixed under the current conditions and if you want to see a fast-forward repeat of the entire debacle, then watch that €13.7Bn from Apple Inc turn your island upside down all over again. Give a monkey a calculator. See what happens next. That Apple windfall is going to strangle you guys all over again: they'll destroy what little potential the country has with it, then blow it all away and wait another ten years to see the results.

Honestly, I don't understand why any young person would even contemplate staying there - it's a fucking death sentence.
 
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