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Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
My name is Joseph O’Reilly and I am a self-made man who just gets on with things; when confronted with a problem I can make my mind up very quickly about what needs to be done. I can yay or nay an idea in seconds, bish-bosh! I juggle the ying and the yang of everything around in my head and the entire world slows right down to a crawl. You know the slow motion stuff in the Matrix? It’s kind of like that but without the guns and the crap acting; it’s all happening in my head, baby, and in my head I am the Lord of the Dance. Lord of the Dance? Oh bejesus McMurphy why did I think about that? It reminds me of my arch enemy from Lord of the Rings, Samwise the hobbit.
Oh mercy me he is the worst person on the planet. I hate his fat face. I hate his whining voice. I hate his splaying, dirty feet. Of all the people in the world who manage to never step onto an upturned plug, why him? He goes around barefooted the whole time! I hope he dies of verruca poisoning after trying to scratch his ears with his big toe or something. Why do I hate this creature, you ask? Because he is nothing but a snivelling toad of course! “Oh, Mr Frodo, shall I share the burden?” “Oh, Mr Frodo, can I comb your hair?” “Oh, Mr Frodo, can I stick my finger in your ring?” It’s nothing short of snivelling toadery and he’s like Ross from Friends minus the testicles.
Oh sweet Mary Jesus, you got me going now! Ross from Friends? A horrendous toad if there ever was one. He is the sort of man who has to ring his mother when he wants to put a set of shelves up, a horrendous drip of a person. He reminds me of a nephew of mine, another utterly atrocious example of a man. He will stare at the contents of his fridge for ages before deciding what to have on a sandwich. For God’s sake man, just grab the cheese and the pickle, and get slicing and slopping! It’s as easy as bish-bosh! Spit-spot! I have usually eaten and put my slippers on before he has finished choosing between butter or margarine.
And before you ask, yes they were on a break.
Gandalf! No, wait. You aren’t Gandalf. Oh well, would you mind helping me with this wooden box? I’m only a short-arse and that blasted Samwise is worried about getting a splinter. I tell you, ever since we walked into Mordor he’s become a right hypochondriac. Okay, just shove the box down there. Phew! That was heavy.
So then, Patrick’s Day. Not much to say really other than it’s a nice bit of time with the family and friends and the odd bit of drinking. Gandalf doesn’t come to the pub with us any more as the bouncers usually mistake him for a pervert; it’s the robe and the beard y’see. I told him he should try to learn that Jedi mind trick thing but he won’t listen. Pity really, as he was always good for getting the first round of drinks in.
Last year, Tom Bombadil almost started a fight in the taxi queue. He started hopping around, singing ‘Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo’ which somehow offended a fat bloke who was feasting on a battered sausage. We managed to calm it all down in the end, but we told Tom to stick to orange juice in future. To be honest Tom is a bit of a weirdo so I have stopped replying to his text messages. He lives out in the middle of nowhere and keeps repeating the same joke about his milk going bad by the time he walks back with it from the shop. It was funny at first, but jeez, he doesn’t shut up about it. I’m all for alternative lifestyles and stuff, just stop shoving it in my face, yeah?
For next year I made the suggestion that we get a BBQ and a fire going. With a few sausages and maybe even a paddling pool it would be great! Everyone else said it would probably be raining or something and that pissed me right off. How the bloody hell do they know? Can’t stand know-it-all smart arses who try to shoot down everything I say. I mean, I love a bit of Guinness and all but why not try something else? We could do the Pepsi Challenge maybe or just have some coffee instead. You should have seen the looks on their faces when I said this.