Tales Of The Gurrier

Grey morning crept over the Clondalkin valley like dirty dishwater from a greasy privy outflow. Clondalkin’s cannibal knackers were safely tucked up in the bowels of their hovels. The destruction and violence of the night before now the problem of the Gards and Tallaght hospital accident and emergency ward. As the weak sun struggled to [...]

Paddy’s Day. Dawning with green eyed malice over unhappy Dublin. The country gripped with the plague fear all gatherings cancelled, gangs of agriculture civil servants roaming the streets armed with rubber truncheons and industrial strength disinfectant. Dousing Mayo accented savages in gallons of evil smelling jeyes fluid, rounding them up in paddy wagons full of [...]

The Gurrier sniffed the night air apprehensively. A cold wind was blowing in from the East, sweeping over the torpid depths of the Liffey, snaking down the city’s back streets and chilling The Gurrier’s old bones. Something was amiss in the city, he could feel it in his waters. Something had come back to Dublin [...]

The Longstone on Townsend street, a bar. The Gurrier, Kesey, Heinous and The Gin Lady arrived and surveyed the environs. “Goths!” spat Kesey, “I hate those guys.” “Remember we’re here for Wahlberg. Don’t get distracted” said The Gurrier. He scanned the pasty faced, kohl eyed crowd for the telltale signs of Wahlbergs passing. The place [...]

Things were not going well. Only in the door and already the atmosphere was charged with a fearful expectancy. Heinous had been gobbling those horrible horse steroids all day, the veins on his neck were beginning to writhe and squirm like fat maggots in the sun. His pupils, tiny pinpricks of hate swirling in a [...]