The Lament of the Stringy Goblin
Ladies and gentlemen I bid you all a tardy welcome to 2006. I hope the proceeding twelve months will find you all in good spirits and genial temperament. For myself I will be providing you with more of the fabulous and outrageous entertainments you have come to enjoy here and I hope they will not disappoint your expectations. For your part I pray you will bear with me in my experiments and my small attempts to build upon these meagre foundations.
And so to the work. The year has gotten off to a somewhat tawdry start. The Stringy-Goblin has appeared abroad on our sanctified streets and threatened to spread his pox of naked eastern European ladies upon us. The fine citizens of Dublin; never ones to accept the charity of the hated English immediately exercised their rights under the constitution to ban this filthy foreign smut from our shores. However our spineless judiciary corrupted by long years of Protestantism and lax morals saw fit to overturn the wishes of the upstanding denizens of Parnell Square and allow developers to begin construction of a new cultural red light district for the capital titled ‘The Monto Bar’.
Here to Monto Bar English Stag parties shall be whisked from the airport in decrepit, stinking CIE coaches into the swish surroundings of Cineworld/Virgin/UGC/IMAX or whatever it’s calling itself this week. As the coaches pull into the specially built enclosures hard eyed, implacable bouncers will herd the thuggish, priapic brutes into the multiplex to gorge themselves on sticky cheese on crisps and bring them to a slavering climax with the latest Hollywood spectacle. Afterwards as they stagger outside blinking in disbelief from the wonders of Edison’s Marvel, they will stumble into the glare of spotlights and be plunged into Stringy-Goblins lair. Here to be confronted with their fantasies of undernourished eastern European ladies rubbing their ladyparts against them for wads of oily tenners. This it is claimed will ‘gentrify’ the area.
‘No’ I say. The decent citizens of Dublin will turn their heads away in shame for these diseased young men, they will shake their heads in wonder at a country grown fat and sickened by its own greed. ‘Go West young man,’ they will say to their heartbroken sons. West, to the still pure green beating heart of Ireland. Leave these unhappy streets. There is nothing for you here. Pass on into myth O’ land of Eirinn. Sweet Mother Mo Chroi, pass on O’ Anna Livia do not stop here and listen to the ring of the greasy till. Out there somewhere are the crossroads at which the maids of Eireann still dance to the carefree rhythm of a nations heartbeat. Find them and bring them back here to the unhappy city so that once more we may lay our weary heads ‘pon the fresh green breast of Ireland. Tell them Ireland needs the Mná Na h’Eireann to dance once again. To be a nation once again. We’ll dance these Stringy Sasnachs back across the water just like we did before and return the sack cloth and ashes our backs so our great sin may be cleansed
Éire go brach!
Your Humble Correspondent,
Donal ‘The Gurrier’ Murphy
January 12th, 2006 at 4:25 am
That’s beautiful and scary all at the same time. Well done.
January 12th, 2006 at 3:30 pm
This post is pants.
(didjaseewhutIdidthur?)
January 12th, 2006 at 8:49 pm
Cheers Brian I see beauty in scary places and Parnell Square is one of the scariest places in Dublin. Also I paraphrased Yeats and Fitzgerald in their somewhere. I think it was the bit about sticky cheese and priapic yobs.
Up yours Undress! I know what you’re at and I’ll not have this site degraded by your filthy lies. If the good of the nation is served by social commentary about ladies in their pants or indeed without their pants then I will not shirk from that great responsibility. And if need be I will post about Peter Stringfellow in his pants too. Here’s a taster
January 13th, 2006 at 10:01 am
I really, really, shouldn’t have clicked on that link.
January 13th, 2006 at 10:37 am
You just won’t learn will you.