Rain Dance

Well there was a small turn out for the dancing but there was plenty gawkers out walking who were supposedly ‘just passing by’. Fair dues to Mary Gilhooley and Bridie Hartigan, they both had body painted bras and grass skirts and Johnny Fadden was all out in a goatskin lookin’ the dead spit of Tarzan. He had fierce roarin’ and leppin’ and was going around to the women shouting “Me Tarzan, you Jane, we make little Tarzan.”
He ended up going home the back road with Mary and Bridie and there was quare laughin’, roarin and moanin’ heard late into the night. Paddy Mulcahy’s herd of prize freisians broke out and Mike Fitzs’ bull did himself a bad injury when he tried to jump a barbed wire fence. Fair play to everyone who got involved in the dancing, there was a grand drop of rain on Sunday and Monday.

Air Conditioned House

Young Packie Moore is after spending the guts of €15,000 on putting air conditioning into that monstrosity of a two-storey house that he’s building above near the lake. One thing is feckin’ sure, he didn’t grow up in a house with fresh air in it. Sure there was no such thing as fresh air in houses when we were growing up – all we had were houses with different smells. If it wasn’t the smell of cowdung from outside the door, it was the smell of sweat, dampness, turf smoke, farts, hairy bacon and cabbage boiling in a big pot, a child’s shitty nappy or the smell of an aul’ fellow sitting beside the fire who had wet himself. You had to be tough to survive in those days. They want their comforts now but with their air conditioning and all their gadgets they’ll end up in bad health I’m telling’ ye. They’ll end up sick oftener than we were and all we had to put up with. Sure every generation is getting weaker and then there’s eejits going around claiming that evolution is plausible.
TO CHECK OUT THE REST OF THIS WEEK'S COLUMN SEE http://www.mayoadvertiser.com

Quare goings on

There was pandemonium down the back road on Wednesday night and it all ended in tragedy. Someone smoked the two gay yanks out of Hackett’s place by stuffing a donkey jacket down the chimney in the middle of the night. When the lads emerged coughing and choking they were then met by someone covered in a white sheet wailing like the banshee. It was a frightening ordeal for them. The fat lad Billy got a massive heart attack and died in the ambulance on the way to hospital and Robbie who wears the pink dungarees is still fierce shook. He’s still in hospital getting treatment. Garda Xavier Macgillacuddy updated me yesterday on the current investigation:

“I can tell you Larry that I am following a definite line of enquiry on this one, I started by ruling everything in and then started ruling most of it out very quickly again. I have made dramatic progress but am unable to reveal my suspicions to any journalist for operational reasons. An arrest could be immanent and I’m hoping to send a file to the DPP, I never got a chance to send him a file before.
Speaking off the record Larry, I’m sure it was that young upstart Johnny Price that did it but sure if I named him in the paper he would only get a chance to do a runner, so I can’t tell you officially Larry.”

Things are lookin’ up

Well isn’t it fantastic weather. Spring is in the air, the women’s skirts are gettin’ shorter and the tops are getting skimpy. Sure there’s nothing like it to liven up the place. Even aul’ Tommy from the hill was wearing a new outfit at mass on Sunday and him clean-shaven for the first time in six months. He was tellin’ me that he’s going all out this summer to ‘sow as much oats’ as he can. It could be the summer for it.
For the rest of this week's column check out www.mayoadvertiser.com