Tales Of The Gurrier

He stumbled away from his quarry eyes burning, blood streaming from the wounds to his face. His clothes were filthy, his beloved writers jacket a foul rag, stained and torn beyond redemption. His breath stank of whiskey and he staggered forward on ragged knees. Raising the bloody stumps of his typing fingers he gazed into [...]

The wretched scabrous figure lay sprawled where he had collapsed, down amongst the debris and detritus of his labours. His ravaged form twitching spasmodically. From time to time a low moaning sound would utter from his cracked lips; unearthly and guttural. The darkness of the hovel formed a cocoon around the slumbering figure. The air [...]

“Bastard Pope” snarled Kesey hurling the remote at the tv. “Bastard Pope on every bastard channel and Fools and Fucking Horses on the rest!” Popeshite everywhere, he tossed a bunch of newspapers at the Gurrier’s feet. Look at this bollix! Fecking Godsuckers worming out of every boghole in the country. It’s a Jesusbiscuit eating infestation. [...]

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 [...]

A chill wind whipped down lonely Dawson Street as we marched glumly toward our destination. Searchlights whirled overhead, spears of neon bathed the building in lurid streams of illumination. A garish, luminous precursor to the baleful and malignant events to come. The crowd gathered outside had a nasty feral look. Sporting the glazed over vistas [...]

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 [...]