Try losing around twenty-two stone weight from your gut.
Then get a head transplant, you can find a decent used head from a dead culchie and you won't even notice the difference.
Then get a new wife, the one you're banging at the moment suffers from a muntering munterism of maladies and misshapen mounds about her chops.
Plus, that son of yours is a walking time-bomb of green zits and pimples, you might wanna drown him like a bag full of unwanted kittens in a river.
Also, there's something wrong with your whole head.
It's about the biggest head I've ever seen.
Yet it's empty on the inside.
Weird, that.
In fact, I really don't see much hope for any of your family - might be best to have a family suicide: all in, aces are wild, jacks are hot.
You can borrow one of Val's rifles - that way it's a 50/50 chance you'll either die or not die.
Val's guns are older than he is - and he's in treatment for rusty parts around the neck and head.
You Irish truly are one of a fucking kind.
Thank fuck Ireland's an island.