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Jambo/Electricity/Saul/CG&P: Irish Nationalism v Old Age Pensioners

I've no idea what he's sulking for - I made it perfectly clear that all future tweets/ telegram screenshots etc. were to go in a certain thread, and only in that thread. Yet within 24 hours he was back to square one, posting xyz social media links / screenshots in the General Chat Thread. James seems to think he can always get his way on forums by demanding a GDPR, or by sulking in protest. Well he can sulk for as long as he wants...the rule still stands - tweets etc. go in the thread which was designated for them. If he (again) starts attacking administration in protest he'll be back on moderation.

He can either comply, or play the usual game of cat and mouse which always leads to the same inevitable consequences time and time again.
 
Jimmy's a right auld moany-boots. I always said that losing his Ma at such a young age had a detrimental effect on his entire life and everything in it. Including his taste in music (all-macho-male bar yer wan from The Bangles - his favourite driving music). 'Walk Like An Egyptian' all the way down the Ballymuck bypass and out into real culchie territory. Have yet another 'Manic Monday' what with the local supermarket running out of slabs of Dutch Gold. I'm sure there's a Polish beer that tastes the exact same but comes in a different shape of bottle/tin.

I also think that his inferiority complex got the better of him when he realized that even a Ballyer head like me can skewer him and lightly toast his ass for as long as it amuses me. That had to hurt. Imagine that seven-hundred and ninety-eight IQ on top of all the millions he made playing tiddlywinks? Maybe he's fallen in with the rather more elite cocaine set? 17% cocaine, the rest rat poison, flour, talcum powder, and cheap amphetamine.

If I had a gazillion euros, an intelligence quotient the equivalent of the entire Intel underground, and a bicycle, I'd take off on a round the world cycling trip to end all cycling trips. Once met a bloke in Cherbourg while queuing to get on the ferry home after a gig in Paris, he'd cycled from Tokyo back to see his Mam in Stillorgan. Took him over six months. Same weekend we got AAAs for INXS at Le Rex in Bonne Nouvelle, and the after party. Got absolutely smashed beyond my normal limits and slumped for a while in the private club attached to Le Rex. So a drunk Kirk Pengilly tied my dreads to the back of the chair and then woke me as though there was a fire or something. I hopped up, the chair came with me, so I panicked, and everyone had a laugh at my expense. Which was fine by me: we must have drank all the tequila and brandy in the place. Getting my hair back from the wooden chair wasn't much fun, mind you.

Oh, but yes - we were talking about Jambo.

So, er..

Yeah.

I found it hard.

It's hard to find.

Oh well.

Whatever.

Never mind.

 
Jambo hopefully took Mowl's advice finally, took off travelling, and found love.

Love is a tight commodity in the current market.

This whole woke thing has certainly thrown up some clangers. I notice lately that there are lots of blokes boys out and about wearing skirts. I'd have to look twice because they also wear make-up, so the Adam's apple is the go-to evidence. Boys in skirts to just above the knee, sports socks to just below the knee, and worn out converse all-stars downstairs on the feets. Lots of people with blue hair, orange hair, green hair, purple too.

Then there's the girlies holding hands. Actual girlies this time, but very young, very obvious as to which one's which, the way they kiss, they way they look at each other, and the general air of confidence they emanate as though it's the most natural thing in the world to stick your tongue down her neck in the biscuit aisle.

I was stopped by a voice the other week, and when I turned to look at who he was, he wasn't a he, he was a she. Deep gruff voice, and a face that didn't belie either male or female attributes at first. Then he she tried to sell me some notions about helping kids go to school in Yemen or somewhere. By then I was looking at his her legs: they were hairier than mine, even if they were sort of gingerish. The voice was totally bloke, as was the gait, the facial expressions, etc. Adam's apple not present.

I don't have a problem with it, but it would be nice if it was okay to find it all a bit funny. Funny as in ha-ha type of funny. Not pointing fingers and belittling them. Just an acknowledgement that I see what's happening there. After all, he she approached me first. Surely a bark of surprised laughter isn't offensive, is it? Or even a comment that his her legs are hairier than my own?

In the end I didn't contract a kid in Yemen to go to school, but I did have a few giggles with him her: and she he laughed along too.

I.e. Jambo' story has a happy ending, and he doesn't end up going postal.

Maybe he found himself a nice hairy-legged ginger girl with a brusque male voice, an androgynous face, a mixed up style of dress (flowery blouse over cut-off short denim pants, sports knee-socks, converse all-stars, messy hair, and a bright and multi-coloured hoodie) who tried to sell him educational opportunities for young children in Yemen?

🤞

I don't use Instagram - can you portray the message to me in the form of jazz ballet on LSD?
 
I don't use Instagram - can you portray the message to me in the form of jazz ballet on LSD?
Well it was this fellow and his goat brought young Jambo to mind. And you know everyone on these fora was worried about Jambo "going postal", on account of all his white supremacist talk; his rehashing all of that stuff you find in the manifestos of white supremacists who actually did go "postal". But then I thought, well, maybe he's in sunny South America somewhere, fallen in love with a goat, and having regular sex at long last. Maybe he's out there, happy and content, somewhere.

 
@AN1 #AN1 - etc: swift work slipping in under Zippy's watch. That sad old bastard's on his way out - his most useful days are long since done.

Do us all a favour and slap the twat out of that golden bra and back into his manky string vest, Jack - sorry, I meant Jambo, didn't I, Jimmy?

Cigarettes and alcohol rule:

 
He should really just come out of the damned closet and admit it: he loves men.

If Liam was drunk enough after an Oasis gig, Jambo'd happily let him roger the hoop off him.
 
He'll get angry at the mods on Arsefield's, demand a GDRP and return to Isle.

After a few weeks he'll get angry here, demand a GDPR and return to Arsefield's.

Wash, rinse and repeat to infinity.
 
He'll get angry at the mods on Arsefield's, demand a GDRP and return to Isle.

After a few weeks he'll get angry here, demand a GDPR and return to Arsefield's.

Wash, rinse and repeat to infinity.

Leave the stupid cunt to it - he's his own worse enemy.

Looks like not even Keith Woods wants fools like Jambo trailing around after him:

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I don't blame the skinny pencil-necked little cunt: I wouldn't want Jambo citing me every other day as his 'source' for his 'information'.

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Cavan/Monaghan ran four nationalist/independent candidates, including Val Martin - who claims to be conservative. Apart from hating the nig-nogs, the kikes, the gypsies, those hoors up above in Dublin, and anyone else who doesn't buy his brand of free range pork and canine/feline. They're their own worst enemy. They're disorganized, they march out of step. They sing out of tune. And worse again:

'..you had some of them going door to door in tracksuits looking for votes. That type of shit needs to be nipped in the bud now. Another candidate was up in court for attacking a road worker in fairview with a slash hook, he’s lucky that didn’t get much media coverage'.

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Poor Djambo: his inner Brit is seeping out through his big jug-handle ears:

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Seems to hate Irish music and musicians - loves and adores the second-hand English versions, à la Oasis, Blur, etc.
 
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Some interesting facts about the Bucket family of Knockatallon, Co Monaghan. Turns out that the Bucket's family history is quite an interesting one. One family member clearly did some marathon research into the family line from just after The Great Hunger through to their arrival into America and starting work as barmen and tailors, and from there back to Ireland and the establishment of the family home in Knocktallon near to Knockafubble.

In a way I can now better understand why Saul turned into such a rabid racist, but I can also see that his disdain was absolutely misplaced. His own line did no different to any incoming migrant into Ireland in that the Bucket line brought their Catholic ethos with them over the pond, even producing a canonized priest who returned from America to become a parish priest in the Monaghan/Cavan region. See above for picture.

I also see how deeply ingrained the family are with Irish republicanism, and according to Marcus himself, his elder brothers are all signed up card-carrying members of the republican movement both within their parish and beyond. It's also clear that death among the males of the family line frequently came rather young. Only a few of them lived beyond their fifties and all of them were resident in the States, where medical science was obviously more modern than it was in the bogs of western Ireland in the late 1800s through to today.

Saul was broken-hearted by his own son's burgling activities. That's when he turned to me: he was in despair with it all, and I in turn tried my best to give him advice that would involve himself necessarily taking the lead role over the son with the full weight of the extended family line behind him. What he didn't tell me was that he had a serious issue with cancer and that his time was limited. For whatever reason, he turned on me and suddenly departed The Isle to the nearby shores of Arsefield's where he made his final few statements on the Ireland issue and how he saw the world. He certainly did brave it out until the last and he accepted his fate with dignity. That he passed so soon after his elder brother must be hard on the remaining family members, but the Buckets have a lot of relatives over the pond, they're not confined to Monaghan by any means. Perhaps if Saul took the modern coffin ship to the States, he might have accessed better healthcare that might at least prolong his time in this world. That he chose not to is to his own discretion.

The attached link to the blog by his extended family members goes into much deeper detail in research that harks all the way back to An Gorta Mór.

There are a few more links to blog pieces which also shed some light on the extended family and their various adventures between Ireland and America.

It made me kind of sad how the swine on Arsefield's, who squeezed the poor bloke for all he was worth, could only offer him a paltry mention in a thread title, a thread filled with garbage pop videos by Jambo, off-key anti-Jewish rants from Swordid and his wrinkly grey-haired ballsack, and Declan himself: who gouged Saul for everything he could get and for what? To boost his pathetic ego? Very sad indeed.

Saul's time in this mortal coil was brief, but when his time was up, he stood tall and bid his last farewells in much the same manner as his heritage before him.

So at least now I have a better insight into the man.

Not to mention those who treated him like carrion, and bit off as much as they could swallow without chewing: shame on all of you.
 
Well Dan and Swords protect him. From my own perspective, when I post stuff that goes too close to the bone for Jambo, they just delete it.

Happens all the time on Arsefield's. Happened just last night.

So you see Jambo isn't wholly a believer in "free speech", only in his own right to spam his conspiracist drivel. So I'd say that's why he is still cowering over there, sucking up to those two mutants.
 
Maybe the divil himself is though, eh, Jimmy?

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You've been hanging around with Catholic racists for too long, they've infiltrated you and warped what little brain power you have.

How do you equate both God and the Devil in your nationalist/racist tiny mind, Jambo?

What happened? Did Declan send you a pic of his balls or what?

Are you his current 'Chosen One' Jambo?
 
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Remember when you used to go studying P.ie and then you'd come back to the Isle and write up a post about Parlon or Crapcatapult with an attached link and then ask them a question that they never even knew they'd been asked at which point you'd lambast them for being cowards in not answering you?

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See, they didn't (and don't) even know you exist, Jimmy.

You're basically a nobody with nothing going on bar whining all day like your mutt mate Wilf.

Which - it must be said - is a good thing for you, he is after all the closest to a 'mate' or 'buddy' as you've ever had.
 
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