Jaze, I must pay more attention to things. I haven't even bothered to look up the previous year, never mind this one. Much as it'll grate on you to know it, Finland was again voted '
World's Happiest Country' for the
seventh time in a row - that's from 2017 right through to today. I was still trying and succeeding to wind you sad bastards up about us winning it five times, but it seems I was so happy I missed two more years of the same.
Happiness among the EU member states really ought to be rationed. Ex-Prime Minister Sanna Marin promised to tell the OECD people not to award Finland with the honour again, but it seems she may have lost her phone while out clubbing with her girls and drinking more champagne than she ought to. So just for the craic, here's a picture of Sanna heading out to party:
Seven years. It's a long time. You'd think standards might either slide a little or improve a little, but no: of all the countries in the OECD lists, we're consistently awarded the first prize. There are of course many reasons for this, but suffice it to say that when the Mowl arrived into Helsinki into the waiting arms of my then beautiful lady friend, I brought with me many things that the Finns of today think wonderful. Like inclusivity, one of my better traits. It's not difficult, all you need to do is be nice to people. Greet them warmly. Ask how their day is going. Hold that door open, there's a little old Lady behind you. And don't fuck them unless they ask you to, instead - make love with them. They like that much better. The fucking can happen later, rest assured. Also, dressing in a clean and ironed white shirt over pressed black slacks and a clean-shaven face with fixed and waxed hair is what you wear for your office job, plonker. Be a fucking man. Stand like one. Don't give any fucks like one. Dress like one. You don't have to buy her a drink to talk to her, and you don't have to excuse yourself about it either. They don't mince their words so quit mincing your own. You can wear sneakers and shorts in any club if that's your thing, just don't show up looking like you're there to ask legal questions or to present menus.
Ireland's best effort was seventeenth place, and that was a good few years back during the Celtic Mutt days. At the moment you sad twats are rock-bottoming out like you have done since forever. You live in the most expensive country in the entire EU zone, and look at the fucking state of the place? You have your masses of homeless people, of homeless and hungry children, bums and junkies galore, Roma people hanging around and stinking the place out. The Irish walking dead along O'Connell Street is NOT a good look for visitors, you dopey fucks. You've gone and let the migrants take over, haven't you? You watched them walk in, demand all manner of shit, get it, throw it back, ask again, receive it again, and fuck it up again. It's nobodies fault only your own -
you let this happen on your watch and believe me when I tell you: your kids aren't just going to hate you for it, they're going to vote for freedom of euthanasia, and guess who the first up against the wall is?
That's right, suckers: you and yours, and by the time the next two or three generations have a look at what you lot did, burying your bodies after a nice singsong and funeral mass in wooden coffins isn't going to be allowed. They're going to vote to burn you and have your ashes added to the cement mix for whatever they decide to build to replace your main street syringe/needle. Your generation are by far the worst Ireland has ever seen. Your ancestors weathered all manner of dodgy situations and they came out on top. What has yours done? Whine on chat boards about the '
good ol' days' and cry into your tins of cheap imported Dutch and German lager and pils while snorting up 6% cocaine cut with 94% rat poison. You fucking deserve to be euthanized, you lazy, useless, uneducated, unworthy, fucking scum. You were handed a country with massive potential, an island nation who could have had it all: a place for yourselves alone in an ocean of unlimited opportunity and total autonomy. But what did you do with it? You let scum like Charlie and Bertie set you up and then take the legs out from under you. You watched as all that lovely money fell from the sky and like kids in a candy-shop, your eyes were bigger than your belly. Now you're all looking for someone - anyone - to blame.
Lads, you are where you are because you all partied, and don't be trying to deny it either. I watched complete fucking knackers walk in to five star restaurants and swallow their meals whole, shoveling the foie gras down your necks like it was a bag of chips. Driving cars you could never afford, borrowing, spending, three meals out a week, two summer and three winter holidays. Silk suits and handmade shoes. Kids with state of the art telephony. You even had all these beautiful eastern European ladies serve you your coffee, lunch, dinner, taking your cash at the tills, cleaning up after your company bash. Now your kids work for them, scrubbing their floors, serving their foods to their own people over to visit from Poland and Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. And your kids are wondering why they can only make it a few rungs up the ladder from abject poverty to assistant manager without ever getting to run or direct anything. They're fucked. They know it. They're eyeballing you lot - especially you lads and lassies who love to gossip on the
political discussion boards laugh-ins for Mowl to giggle at. Your debt stands at €234Bn and counting and you have a gross population of 5.2Mn people, of which around 48% are either kids or pensioners. Think about that. Then think about why your government can't open the doors wide enough to the homeless of the world. It used to be:
'
If you're Irish, come into the parlour...'
Except now it's:
'
Oh, landlord how could you treat me so cold, you've got a mortgage on my body and the key to my soul...'
You stupid, stupid cunts.
Last night I went downtown and as a result of a confluence of seemingly unrelated phenomena, I didn't get home until dawn and didn't once put my hand in my pocket. Drinks, food, taxis, the works. I met a few people I hadn't seen in a while and we crashed two parties in downtown venues and then another house party after that. Lovely weed, there were other things on offer but I don't use them. In fact, here's a little story about a moment I had in the studio with the guys:
I said that I have never tried heroin, meth, crack, or any other super-strong drug and would like to try a few of them even once before I die. You know what my mates said to me? '
Yes, I can get that for you - but I won't'. I asked why not: '
because you're too special to us, we aren't going to let you do that even under our supervision. So no, not now and not ever'. I replied that if they wouldn't get it for me, then I could go to the streets for it. They replied: '
stop kidding yourself, you wouldn't know who to ask or where they are, and chances are they'd probably think you're a risk because you're foreign and alone'.
That was the end of that.
No fucking wonder we're so happy.
Now look at yourselves?
You stupid fucking cunts, you're all dragging each other down, day after day, the incessant whining and griping never fucking ends.
You have no one else to blame but yourselves, you twats.
The best part?
The worst of it is yet to come for you dopes, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.
Not even being an island you could build walls and fences around is gonna save you.
Because you're fucked up from the inside out - not the other way around, you fucking losers.
Even Stig's laughing at you:
