Sign of the Times

Just stumbled upon this sign a few blocks from where I live.  I guess it's OK for humans and cats?

Check out some more classic signs here

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Proof that Hot Dogs are bad for you..

Proof that Hot Dogs are bad for you.

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Tags: .Proof that Dogs are bad for you....

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There's NO such feckin' thing as a flight for 50p

This is dedicated to those of you who have had the pleasure and privilege of flying Ryanair. I discovered the joys of Ryanair on some of their flights to Fuerteventura which were an experience to behold.

Tags: ..Cheap Flights me ARSE!..

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A Scarey HAIRY Tale

I have to confess I have much more body hair than I am comfortable with. I am part hairy ape or so it seems. It may come to pass, I become bald someday and I'll regret these anti-hair words, but right now in my 'prime' things are getting out of control.

As a teen, I foolishly decided to rid my myself of some newly formed but unwanted body hair. I shaved my arm pits and it was all grand until 3 days later when the stubble regrowth gave me such an itch and a rash that I was walking around for days with a bad ass body builder pose, so as not to have any friction on my tender arm pits.


With the on set of 'maturity', more and more hair has started to sprout from the most unusual places. I used to take the piss out of the 'old' peeps in the Irish countryside with tufts of hairs coming from their ears.

"Jaezuz - you could grow spuds in that jungle" - we'd say jokingly. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your ear hair!


Lo and behold, I now have my very own ear tufts to trim on a regular basis. Add to that - nasal hair, requiring a tweezers to pluck the unsightly little devils out - ouch!.

I know some of you readers won't want to hear / read this but we shall now go where few men / women dare/care to go.



Let me lay it out, plain and simple.

- Amazonian butt crack fur hair
- Extra unwieldy foot long curly pubic hair

I don't know if it's the humidity, diet, global warming, or ALL the above but these bad boys are OUT OF CONTROL!

I used to trim the ol' butt crack hair every 2 months tops, but now it requires a JCB industrial hedge trimmers if I leave it that long.

I suffer the heat, especially in the nether regions so the less 'natural' insulation the better, but jeez - them bad ass pubes be spreading and growing like a wild fire yo!

Same story front of the house (know I'm sayin') - a monthly trim has turned into a obligatory weekly crew cut - short back n' sides pls!
I'm considering waxing or electrolysis but I know that will hurt like a BEEATCHHH! - any advice?

Tags: ..waxing, hairy, hair removal..

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F**K You for the Voodoo that You Do - Boo Hoo!

I seriously think I've been Hexed. It all started yesterday. I was supposed to go hiking with a friend, on a as yet unconquered picturesque trail and when I checked the weather the night before it was supposed to be clear and sunny.

I awoke to heavy rain beating against the window. The forecast had changed drastically to cloudy and showers (the weather changes in an instant in these parts). I was bummed, but we had to postpone the hike for another day. Everything went arse over tits downhill from then on.

So as not to write-off the day completely, I decided I had but 2 simple tasks to complete for the day.

My simple mission, should I choose to accept it would be:

1. Buy maps of the hiking trails in Hong Kong so I wouldn't be getting lost AGAIN!

2. Buy a new wireless router so 'herself' won't be hogging my laptop

Estimated completion time: 90 minutes
Time of departure: 11:30am

Mission accepted!

I 'memorised' the address of the map shop and nearby there was a computer mall where I could buy a router.

I hopped on a bus to the centre, where it should have been a 10 minute walk to the map shop.

Construction everywhere so I detour thru a local sidewalk food court. Oh Oh! - dead end or walk thru the kitchen where people are brandishing meat cleavers...hmmm.. me thinks not - U-Turn back the way I came - Sigh!

20 minutes later, I arrived at my intended destination, '25 Shanghai St' only to find it's not a map store but a butchers with ...you guessed it..people brandishing meat cleavers. Well this is all going to plan - NOT! (I later discover I should have been looking for '250 Shanghai St' - PILLOCK!

I try to Google the address on my iPhone but can't find it and eventually decide I'll just try a book store. I end up in another construction zone dead end - U-Turn back the way I came - Sigh! - GOBSHITE!

The book store doesn't have the maps I want so wasted trip - Feck! I eventually find the website and it says most post offices sell the maps, so I walk another 20 minutes and get to the counter only to be told they don't sell them anymore, BUT he tells me I can buy them at the map store at 250 Shanghai Street - ARGH! - TOSSER!!!!!

I decide to buy the wireless router on the way which in the end takes an hour and then hop a bus back to '250 Shanghai Street' to buy the maps - but miss my stop and end up 10 minutes the wrong side of where I want to be. - MUPPET!

I FINALLY get to the store and order the maps which were pricier than I thought and I don't have enough cash and they don't take credit cards so I have to leave, find an ATM and return and EVENTUALLY purchase the maps. - HALLELUJAH!!!

Actual task completion time: 5 hours
Time of completion: 16:30pm

I then did what any self respecting Irishman would do in this situation. It was time to try to flush the demons out with Holy Stout. So I met a friend in Delaney's Irish Pub for several doses of vitamin 'G' to rid myself of the devils curse.

Vitamin'G'

It seemed to work. I had no more mishaps, had a good time and got home safely, BUT.....

....Today I spent 6 hours configuring the blasted new frikkin' wireless router. I then remembered it's exactly one year to the day since this similar wireless router incident happened (click here) - How f***ed up is that?! Cure for a hex anyone?

Tags: ..Voodoo..

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Stinky, Filthy, Smelly, Nasty, Sweaty, Irish, Paddy

I'm not a person who suffers the cold much. On long haul flights or bus journeys where people are begging for blankets, I'm usually quite comfortable in just tee shirt and shorts. Much to the amusement of others, I've skied without gloves numerous times (substituting socks on occasion) and worn minimal layers in snow blizzards. In short, I am a somewhat naturally hot blooded animal.

That's all well and good in colder climes but when the heat is cranked up a notch or six, unfortunately being a walking toaster oven is some what of a hindrance. Basically, I sweat like a motherfucker. We are talking sweaty flash floods here, the dangerous kind that lead to emergency services being called out to rescue granny from a roof top by helicopter.

I typically get a severe case of S.A.S. (sweaty ass syndrome) which can lead to some embarassing interactions e.g.

1.) I was on the bus in my business attire(shorts and tee-shirt) just a few days ago and as a bunch old Chinese women boarded, I selflessly and valiantly gave up my seat so the old blue rinse crew could sit down. As one of them appreciatively nodded and smiled, I felt a warm fuzzy feeling inside at having done something nice. This wouldn't last long however, as the eighty year+ granny just pointed at the seat and invited all around to observe the sweaty arse imprint I had just left behind.

To my horror people were leaning over looking at the sweat tracks I had made and then looking at me with disgust. If the ground could have swallowed me up there and then I would have gladly jumped, ass first. Granny then reached into her handbag and opened a packet of tissues to mop up my unintentional moist deposits I had left. I exited the bus 6 stops before my destination and had to walk 30 minutes, but I had a escaped a possible lynching - close call.

But wait there's more....

2.) Yesterday, I went for the first visit to the dentist in Hong Kong. Some of you will remember my absolute dread of dentists from this post (Bad Teeth). Again, I dressed in tee-shirt and shorts so as to be as comfortable ( i.e. not hot) as possible.

It was a well air conditioned clinic and all I was having done was a check up with X-Ray and a cleaning. I have sensitive teeth and any sound of dental equipment, even a brush makes me squirm. I had a thorough cleaning (40 minutes worth) and as I eventually got off the chair I was horrified to see yet again an extended arse to ankle body imprint of sweat on the leather.

There's not much you can say to salvage a situation like this so I just alluded to my fear of dentists and then listened to the post analysis of my X-Rays as the poor dental nurse took a roll of kitchen wipes or two to clean up the mess I had left. I can still hear the cleaning motion - 'wash on - wash off' x 100

I've heard old people wear diapers when they eventually lose control of there toilet 'manners' so I'm thinking of patenting 'Sweat Diapers' for the poor sods with an affliction of Extra S.A.S ('Sweaty Ass Syndrome') such as mine.

Tell me I'm not alone here?....pretty please! - throw me a bone or some talc.

p.s. I think I found the 'cure' click Here

Tags: ..Stinky Filthy Smelly Nasty Sweaty Paddy..

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Do You Like PENIS?

Snack Street, Beijing

I was asked the rather unusual question above on a visit to Beijing, China a few days ago. I was on a part business, part pleasure trip. More on the trip in a later post. A bunch of us visited the 'Snack Street' market on Sunday where they serve all sorts of weird food stuff on a stick like in the photos below.

Crickets on a stick -yummy!

Scorpions on a stick

Star Fish on a stick

Live scorpions on a stick

Grubs on a stick

More scorpions on a stick

Other tasty stuff on a stick

These eastern delicacies which were all impaled on a thin wooden stick included live scorpions which had been skewered and somehow managed to keep wriggling. They were dipped in hot oil for a minute before being served with a spicy sauce - yum...ouch!

More tasty stuff on a stick

Other treats included crickets, grubs (fat caterpillar type blobs), centipedes, sea snakes, beetles, silk worms, star fish and .....wait for it........sheep penis! - yes you heard right!

SHEEP PENIS

Always on the lookout for a good photo, I reached into my pants and pulled mine out (my camera that is!) and tried to focus on the woolly ones curly members on a stick (see above).

As I was snapping my picture, the stall vendor went into serious hard sell tactics and shouted and pointed directly at me - "YOU LIKE PENIS?"

I tried to ignore him and get a better picture but the more I ignored him, the more he pointed and the louder he shouted - "YOU WANT TRY PENIS?" - HEY MISTER - YOU LIKE PENIS?"

Needless to say the bunch of lads I was traveling with and everyone within a 20 meter radius found this hysterical so I retreated hastily with my tail/penis between my legs.

I never got to try penis and I probably never will - Not that there's anything wrong with trying penis!

Snack Street, Beijing, China

Tags: .. Snack Street Beijing China, Snack Street..

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A Man's gotta Poo when a Man's gotta Poo!

It's been pissin' rain for four days so I've not been out much and cabin fever had hit me in a bad way. Even though it was still raining this morning, I couldn't stay indoors any longer so headed out for a hike to the hills in between scattered showers. After my daily porridge and coffee, I'm as regular as a 'clockwork prune' so I'd already taken care of business before I left.

15 minutes into the hike, I started to feel an uncontrollable urge to poo again. Now I can normally hold onto doing the business until a suitable opportunity presents itself but this was one of those emergencies. It was like movie 'Alien' where the extra'turd'esstrial creature just wants to escape its host. I was practically in poo labour. No matter how much I huffed and puffed, I couldn't slow the bowel contractions and this bundle of poo was going to be delivered with or without my consent.

My options were simple -

a.) Step off into the bushes and let rip and hope the leaves I used weren't poison ivy
b.) Try and hold on as best I could but more than likely unload in my pants

After holding on to all my shite with all my might, I rounded a corner and to my absolute delight (not meant to rhyme) and complete relief, I spotted a toilet. If this had been a hike anywhere else in the world, I would most likely have been doomed (up shit creek as it were) but in Hong Kong, thankfully you can find public toilets in the middle of the wilderness with toilet paper - I love this city!

Photo: Poo in the Wilderness (ok so wasn't the ACTUAL toilet I found but you get the sense of relief!)

Tags: .A Man's gotta Poo when a Man's gotta Poo!, Hong Kong toilets..

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WTF - Someone just left a 20,391 word comment / essay on my Blog?

What the F$%K?

It's always gratifying when someone spends time to visit your wee ol' blog and even more so if they are courteous and sometimes more fun if they are NOT and leave some feedback by way of a comment. It makes me all warm n' fuzzy inside to know somebody knows I exist on the webosphere and somehow (probably accidentally) stumbled upon my sorry arse excuse for a rant and a vent and a chat.

About five minutes ago, I received a comment on an old blog post about that thieving bastard Bono (of U2 fame) who stole my tent - TRUE FRIKKIN' STORY B.T.W. (court case pending so I can't divulge anymore at the mo). Not only did this commenter have a few words to say about my blog topic - they had 20,391 words to say to be exact - and NOT the mindless incoherent nonsense with links that a spammer would usually leave.

You may now visit comment #30 and read for yourselves. Feel free to write an executive summary.

http://paddyinba.blogspot.com/2008/10/bono-stole-my-tent.html

Advance to comment #30 on the above link or just look for the book and soon to be movie coming to a theatre near you!

Tags: .WTF - Someone just left a 21,391 word comment / essay on my Blog?..

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East VS West - Cultural Differences

I've been raving about how much I like Hong Kong in recent posts but I thought it would be good to document some of my observations on the cultural differences between East and West.

In western culture it seems the norm for old folks to be banded together in bingo halls or homes for the aged where they are left to their own devices and seem for the most part bored shitless. I think the elderly here are given more respect and are definitely more active in society. Every morning they gather in throngs in the parks where they practice Tai Chi which is a form of 'blue rinse' martial arts (slow but graceful). I've seen 80+ year olds that put me to shame with the level of flexibility, dexterity and coordination they possess.

Middle aged/old ladies are extremely aggressive at barging and elbowing their way past you while queuing at bus stops, trams and trains. I've been knocked aside on several occasions.

Americans have a stereotype for being loud, but sit in a locals restaurant with a bunch of old Chinese men at the next table and you better bring ear plugs. They practically scream at each other in ordinary conversation.

Clearing the throat / spitting is more common on mainland China but also prevalent here especially the 'flem tonsil tango' - not too pleasant on the ears.

I've already blogged about how great the food is here but they do eat some strange stuff like boiled or deep fried chickens head (an acquired taste!)

Public Toilets can be a bit daunting at times with the squat toilet apparatus but you do get more thrust using this position.

We had our first cinema experience last night where the crescendo of burps and belches was 'almost' comical. It seems quite acceptable here to let rip, at least from one orifice.

Gambling is absolutely huge here but I've seen many people trying to 'pick a winner' of a different sort.

So if you want to blend here you should ignore western social etiquette and eat whatever you want, spit, burp and pick your nose in public. Maybe Homer Simpson was born here?

Tags: .Cultural differences Hong Kong China Asia spit burp flem pick nose. spitting.

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NO SHIT!

A picture says a thousand words!

Tags: .NO SHIT, NO EXCRETING..

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Attack of the Killer Snails

There's a well known bit of rivalry between city and rural folk in Ireland. I myself hail from the 'big smoke' aka Dublin city but both my parents are from the country (County Mayo and Westmeath). Dubliners are referred to as 'Jackeens' by rural folk and we call rural folk 'Culchies'. Both are derogatory terms with little actual meaning.

As a city slicker, I thoroughly enjoyed the childhood summer vacations in my Mums neck of the woods (Lecanvey, Murrisk, County Mayo). People often think of a city as dangerous but the countryside is not without it's own dangers, especially for a child from the city.

The most terrifying experience I remember as a wee lad of about 8 years old, was with snails and slugs. I was walking thru a wet field when I suddenly became aware of the huge amount of slugs and snails all around me. I froze dead in my tracks and I felt like I was completely surrounded by the slimy monsters. To me it seemed like they were slowly and collectively advancing upon me, to eat me or worse. I stood there for a good ten minutes screaming at the top of my lungs before someone rescued me.

Killer Snails

It's true in hindsight, they didn't advance very far in that ten minutes and I also seem to remember a good deal of ridicule about the whole affair afterward but at the time I practically sh!t my pants!

Tell me now - What were/are YOU afraid of?

Tags: ..Attack of the Killer Snails..

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Altar Boy Anarchy

I was given a choice at ten years of age of either joining the boy scouts or becoming an altar boy. I figured I'd be buggered either way (OK - bad joke!) and I'm not sure exactly why (maybe a gentle bit of persuasion from my mother), but I made the decision to follow the holy path of righteousness.

The expression for a priest is that he "says" Mass (a service) and an altar boy "serves" Mass. So my duties involved "serving" Mass at 7:30am once a week and again on Sunday anywhere between 7:30am and 5pm. This duty was handed out like shift work at a supermarket and if you didn't show up for a good reason you had the potential to be damned to the fiery depths of hell or worse.

If you played your cards right you could get the 'golden cow' shift of serving at a wedding on Saturdays where the dizzy couple would leave an envelope with $$$ for all concerned i.e. an envelope for the priest, another for the altar boys (up to 5 punts = u$d10) and another for the sacristan etc.

The problem was, not everybody knew who the sacristan was or what he did. He is basically an admin assistant to the priest and does a fair chunk of the prep work for the wedding. Many times the dizzy happy couple would forget this poor shlep with the magic envelope.

After about 10 of these weddings, young inspector 'Paddy in BA' started to notice a similar pattern in the hand writing of the envelopes for the altar boys. Same handwriting for each one over several months - hmmmm.... same measly donation = 1 Irish punt = approx u$d2 compared to the 5 Irish punt norm.

In true 'Cluedo' style, I deduced that Mr Sacristan was switching the envelopes from the happy generous couple for his own less generous ones in the sacristy with a thieving conniving contempt for us altar boys.

I couldn't contain my disgust anymore. Did these people really think I was giving up half my Saturday for the the good of the holy church? - Hell No! = I wanted KA-CHING baby!

I left three of Mr Sacristans envelopes on the notice board in the changing rooms with the addition of....

"ALTAR BOYS WANT MORE MONEY!
p.s. how come the last three envelopes I got, have the same handwriting?"

As many of you are probably aware - Catholics don't take kindly to non conformers (think Spanish Inquisition) and so it came to pass that I was cast out of the holy order of the altar boys (no joke!)

Lucifer himself (with horns and tail) and I meet up for coffee on Tuesdays and Thursdays and reminisce about how - there but for the grace of god - the world was our oyster.

Tags: ..Altar Boy Anarchy..

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My maid refuses to wash my car..

..What am I supposed to do?

As reported exclusively on a web forum here in Buenos Aires, a poor unfortunate expat woman is in a bit of a kerfuffle. Her maid has point blank refused to wash the family car and had the audacity to say it is not in her duties to do so. This is the forum link to the post in question.

BA Newcomers

You need to be signed up with the Yahoo group to see the post so I've given you a free guest pass below

id = guestofpaddyinba@yahoo.com
pw = washmycarbitch

The numerous responses on the forum go on to discuss in great detail what course of action this poor woman might be able to take against this horrendous rebellious maid. e.g.

• Contact the local Maids Union and see if they could help persuade her to wash the car
• Speak with the Minister for Employment to determine the labour law obligations
  
• Pay the maid extra to wash the car - God forbid!
  
• Damn the maid to hell and bring the car to a car wash - last resort!
  
• Get off your frikkin' lard arse and wash your own car - BEE-ATCH - (suggested by an anonymous Irish expat)
  

Apparently the maid washed the car for many months before this current outburst of anarchy raised its ugly head and now it appears a revolution is imminent. All across Argentina, maids are uniting and refusing to mix cement, paint barns, shear sheep, lasso cows and other typical maid type stuff that they now consider to be outside of their duties.

These insubordinate, ungrateful heathens are already more than handsomely rewarded for their meager endeavours. Some earn as much as A$10 pesos (US$3.30) an hour, yet they seem determined to pick and choose what they want to do. They plot these schemes as the travel long distances to work, crammed like sardines in overcrowded buses from the far flung suburbs of the city .

Please help support this poor, poor expat woman by leaving a comment (anonymous if you like) on this blog which will be added to a petition to help force this evil uncooperative maid to wash the womans car like she should do. Without your support, more unfortunate expats like her will be driving around in filthy BMW's and that just doesn't seem right. Life can be so unfair!

Tags: .maid duties, Buenos Aires..

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Postman Paddy

After I finished high school, I did a brief stint as a postman in Howth in north Dublin. I had to get up at 4:30am and cycle 30 minutes to the sorting office in Baldoyle (not always easy if you went to bed at 1:30am)

When I arrived, I'd have a continental Irish breakfast which was a cup of tea and a cigarette. Each postie was allocated certain roads and streets, so first you sorted the post into streets and then into house numbers in the specific order of your round. There was always a great bit of banter going on as numerous cups of tea and smokes were consumed and some poor postie would normally be the brunt of the jokes.

At about 8am, we'd head off in a van and get dropped off at our allotted spot to walk the route and deliver the mail. A dog may be 'mans best friend' but he's a postman's worst enemy. There were some fierce and vicious K9's on my route. I soon developed some exceptional survival skills such as clamboring over 7 foot walls to escape the fangs of death. I don't know if it's the uniform or the whistling (it's mandatory in Ireland for the postman to whistle badly off key!) but most dogs HATE the postman.

One of the houses I delivered to had a bad ass German shepherd called Gnasher with a nasty disposition. Luckily he was contained behind a metal gate by the side of the house but as I passed the gate each day, he would be wait silently then suddenly go berserk and bark and snarl and push his face thru the gate with all the force he had. The first time he did it I nearly shit my pants as he caught me off guard.

My last day on the job I decided to get my revenge on Gnasher. I rolled up a newspaper and as he let loose with his torrent of K9 abuse I slapped him on the snout with the paper. Animal lovers - fear not - I didn't hit him that hard but the shock sent him yelping to the back of the house.

A few weeks later I heard thru the grapevine that the poor schlep that took over my route had a bit of misfortune on his very first day. Gnasher somehow got beyond the gate and sank his fangs into new posties butt cheeks requiring stitches and a tetanus injection.

Apparently his bite was worse than his bark. Luckily, I didn't experience it first hand!

Tags: .dog, dog bite, postie, postman, postal, post office,postman paddy,..

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Anna Kournikovas Panties

I decided last week it was time to address the on going battle of the bulge where my midriff has been getting somewhat out of hand of late. I've always had a bit of a beer gut. Well just after I was born it was more of a milk gut but as I grew up I discovered with a clever disguise of loose shirts and being an expert at sucking in the gut at the appropriate moment e.g. photos or any time I pass a mirror, I could get by. Alas these tactics don't work anymore.

I have tried various exercise routines over the years but they rarely last more than a week. I have joined a gym on two separate occasions. In both instances, I went for a week and then never returned to the gym but kept paying the monthly fee for at least six months before I finally admitted defeat.

I bought a mountain bike once and cycled a few times at weekends but was nearly run off the road several times so that was the end of that adventure. The bike never came within 100kms of a mountain so perhaps I should have bought a city bike?

I have tried jogging but I suffered from third degree nipple chaffing and even lubing up my man tits didn't solve the problem. There's also something that just doesn't seem right about putting Vaseline on my nipples.

My latest attempt is walking. Not just your average walking mind you, but a serious 2.5 hour brisk walk around the ecological park near here. It's starting to get hot here as we approach summer, so I end up lathered in sweat like a pair of Anna Kournikovas panties after a 3 set marathon with a tie breaker finale thrown in for good measure.

Speaking of panties, with all this walking, I am now developing a serious case of crotch chaffing. Perhaps I shouldn't have bought Anna's panties on eBay after all.

Why is it exercise seems to be actually bad for your health?

Tags: ..anna kournikova panties, tennis, nipple chaffing, crotch chaffing, exercise,..

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Paddy Declares WAR

A military spokesman for 'Paddy in Buenos Aires' confirmed today that the long running border dispute between 'Paddy in Buenos Aires' versus 'The Gut Province' will likely escalate into WAR.  The satellite image above proves 'The Gut Province' has been advancing rapidly and has captured significant strategic territory. 

It has long been suspected 'The Gut Province' is using W.M.A. (Weapons of Mass Accumulation) such as M.E.A.T. and chemical weapons comprised of dangerous elements such as malt, hops, barley and yeast.  'The Gut' has also developed advanced mind control techniques a.k.a. brain washing via the airwaves to incapacitate its enemy for hours, hypnotised in a state of near coma a.k.a. 'couch potato' in front of the TV, where upon subliminal messages further encourage the victim to ingest more poison.

 

Other subversive tactics include SAS style commandos who break into peoples homes, replacing loose fitting trousers and shirts with identical but unsightly tight fitting ones.  A U.N. spokesman said they were monitoring the situation closely but it was too soon to "weigh in" with a decision.

Be on the lookout for suspicious substances such as this:

Tags: Beer Belly, Beer Gut, fat belly, Irish beer belly, Argentina fat belly

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Bono Stole My Tent

I have many fond childhood memories of when my family went camping in the UK and Ireland for summer holidays in a large 6 man tent. Before he retired, my dad worked in the post office.  One of his co-workers and good friends was a man called Bobby Hewson a.k.a - Bono's dad (of U2 fame).

Back in the late 70's, U2 were still up and coming and playing small gigs around Dublin.  They wanted to go camping and Bobby, knowing that my dad had a large tent, asked if the lads could borrow it for a long weekend. I'm not sure, but I think they may have gone to a national park called Lough Key which is a beautiful spot. It's hard to imagine the fab four slummin' it in a tent but we are all nobodies until we're a somebody.

After the long weekend, weeks and then months went by and still the tent hadn't been returned.  My dad being overly polite as always, never asked his friend when it would be returned.  There was no sense of urgency as we (the kids) were now more grown up and unlikely to be going camping with the old blue rinse crew parents. In the end, the tent was never returned.

Before he sadly passed away back in 2001, Bobby (a man of humble origins) recounted a story to my dad of being flown out, first class to some exotic location to meet up with Bono and staying in the executive suite of some 5 star hotel where a boiled egg and cup of tea was billed at US$50. Clearly the lads had climbed the ranks from tent borrowing muppets to 5 star - Rock Star status and fair fucks to them I say!

But Bono, if by some 'mysterious ways' you happen to be reading this, I just want to remind  you - YOU OWE ME A TENT! (ok - with 20 years rental on a tent - I'll settle for a house) and if you 'Walk away, walk away, walk away, walk away, I will follow!' 

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Tags: U2, Bono, Post Office An post, Bonos dad, Bobby Hewson

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SHIT !!!!

Imagine owning, working or dealing with this company?

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TEA is EVIL!

Ah g’won, you’ll have a cup of tea, ya will, ya will , ya will!
The family custom when I was a wee lad was, at about 10pm for us all to gather in the living room after studying (playing battleships) etc to have a good old cup of tea and a biscuit (cookie) and watch TV. The ITV news at ten was the usual choice. Sometimes a movie on BBC2 would be in order but if any nudity presented itself (as it often did on BBC2) then it was literally curtains and “away to bed with all yiz!”

One night while munching the cookies and balancing my cup of black tea on my knee (I don’t drink milk for reasons previously mentioned) the unthinkable happened. The cup tumbled and the entire contents splattered all over my delicate dangly bits. I screamed like any man would, who had just had piping hot water scalding his privates. It hurt like a bastage!

Me Ma jumped up with genuine concern. Me Da asked if I wanted a ‘hot drop’ and my brother rolled on the floor with laughter. I was reminded of this episode recently as a friend experienced something similar, but faired worse than I, and ended up in the emergency room. Take it from me - TEA IS EVIL !

Tags: cup of tea argentina, tea time buenos aires, injury tea

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