Eircom woes | Twenty Greater
– Still smoking in Dublin bars
Posted by bettydreams on July 18, 2009
Time: Last night
Place: Rons Bar
Woulld it be worth it, Twenty?, asked Dirth Dave.
Oh fuck yesYou sure?No question about it. Youd be a hero. A legend of all timeYou think?Think? I know. Youd go down in history like Fortycoats, The Diceman, Hector Gray and the mad bloke from The Chieftans who got arrested for throwing a goat through the window of Store Street Garda station. Legends of Dublins some good company to be keepingYou know its gonna be some shit thoughI might get a bit bashed ups one of the perils of making oneself the prime subject in tale that will be told for years and years. It will become like U2s first gig. If you listened to all the twats that were there they obviously played the Phoenix fucking Park. Fathers will tell sons who will tell their sons and it will surely be one of the greatest anecdotes of all timeI might need your help afterwards, what with all the fallout and what have you. Youll be there for me?Ordinarily I would say yes but actually mean no and leave you stew and suffer the consequences on your own. But this time I truly mean yes. Its beyond reward what you are going to do. I shall proudly stand shoulder to shoulder with you. I will tell the world This is my friend. Look at what he has done. We we love him!I promise youYeah, but you promised me youd be there for me when I punched that police horse in the face for a bet and when I turned around you and Jimmy had gone although I could hear you laughing as they clobbered me with their batonsThis is different. You have my wordYes. Cross my heart, I said crossing my heart.
Ok thenre gonna do it?.
Time: Next Monday night
Place: Sh amrock Rovers stadium in Tallaght.
And its Raul down the left hand side, he plays a square ball inside to Diarra he turns, looks up, finds Kaka with a lofted ball across the Rovers defence. The Brazilian flicks it over AntoDeco Shiels, goes past Tricky McDonald and nutmegs Pytkghksskvi Kwrkckhowski, the Polish centre-half, straight through to Cristiano Ronaldo.
Te former United man does a stepover, another, and ahother, then another, hten another, snd another, and yet aother, then another, he distracts thw defender by bulging out his Adams apple like x demented junge toad, a nd hes clean through on goal. Hes gt to score.
But whats this? It seems some hobo in 1940s style boots has taken to the pitch. I can see the cast iron studs ripping through the turf like an acient plough as he runs towards Ronaldo. He leaps, two footed, smashes both feet into Ronaldos knees oh good Lord, I can hear the cracking sound from up here. Hes motionless on the ground, proving once and for all that when a player is really injured he doesnt roll over and over and over again. Doing so would simply break his legs even more. Its just common sense, isnt it?
Thee hobo is on his feet, pupling his shirt over his head whats that written on his lxrgw, tairy, sore ckvered bbelly? Haha, you cunh! Love, RRos Bar!
Some people are on the pitch, they think its all Rovers. It is now.
Oh the humanity.
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