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Author Topic: Duke attempts the Impossible  (Read 671746 times)
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duke3016
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« Reply #6210 on: February 16, 2017, 19:14:32 PM »

I awoke one morning with a slight head on me and struggled to make the shower. I got dressed and went into the kitchen. No Mother at the stove. WTF I looked at my watch and it was 8am, she was usually at the stove at this time slapping on the bacon. I went to the dividing door to the shop and it was locked. FFS the ould lad was always in the shop by 6.30.

Check the bedroom's, I was alone in the house.

Where were they? I went out the front door and there was no alien ship in the sky and smoke lazed out of chimney's in the village. I spotted Jimmy and he waved, OK so I wasn't the only soul on the planet.

Now, no mobile phones at this stage of my development so no “Where the feck are ya” texts to the parents. What should I do? If they were off somewhere surely they would have woken me up and made me open the shop. Anyway knowing the ould lad's love of money I decided to get the spare keys and open up the shop.

Money float was where it always was, keys were where they normally were so what the feck was going on. I rang work and took the day off and settled down. Margaret came up to open the post office at 9am and she had no idea where they were either.

The phone in the Post Office rang shortly before 10am.

“You're up then” was the greeting I got from the ould lad when I answered it.
“Where the feck are you” I replied
“Nenagh” says the ould lad
“What the feck are you doing there” says I
“Picking up the new hearse” says he
“The what” says I
“Never mind, we had a spot of mechanical trouble and we are getting underway again in a little while, should be home by noon” says he
'What time did you leave home FFS” says I
“About 4.30am” says he
“Why didn't you wake me up” says I
“You weren't fecking in” says he. Fair point
“Your mother had to come along to drive the car back, and we thought we would get back for 7am, but the fecking hearse broke down” says he


Now, the ould lad had not mentioned a new hearse, well by new he meant 'newer'. To be honest if he purchased a chariot from Ben Hur it would be 'newer' that the hearse we had.

Noon came and went and Jimmy came into the shop.

“Who's dead” says he
“No Idea” says I
“There's a funeral coming down Gurnett's hill” says he

We went outside and sure enough there was a funeral meandering down Gurnett's hill about a mile from the village.

“Must be someone important” says Jimmy
“Why do you say that” says i
“Because it is travelling so slow and there are loads of cars behind” says he


Now it was a fine day and the cortege disappeared into the dip before it would make its way into the village. I sat down on the bench and looked up the street. People were coming out of their houses and standing on the side of the road. Men were removing their caps and everyone was discussing who this personage was with the large cortege.

As it neared the village, the penny dropped. It was the ould lad in the 'new' hearse and the 'cortege' was disgruntled motorists cursing their luck that they had happened onto a funeral. It was bad etiquette to overtake a funeral. Well I collapsed in a heap on the ground roaring with laughter.

Well the village's initial reaction was one of complete disgust at my irreverence until they saw who was driving the fecking thing and that the back was coffin-less. As the hearse belched black smoke and backfired, the gathered throng joined in with my merriment.

The ould lad pulled up outside the shop and the hearse gave one last defiant belch. He got out of the contraption and stormed past me into the shop red faced and snarling “Not one word Gerard or you will be the hearse's next customer”.

That hearse has a few more stories to tell..


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duke3016
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« Reply #6211 on: February 18, 2017, 13:48:43 PM »

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« Reply #6212 on: February 19, 2017, 20:47:10 PM »

A week or so ago my trusty reservoir steam iron lay down and died. I had it for years so it was time to send it to the great iron cemetery in the sky. I purchased a new one and this morning was the first time it was to be used.

Got the instructions and connected it properly, took off the protection strip on the plate and lightly buffed the plate to remove the excess oil.

Filled the reservoir to the correct level, checked the settings as per the instructions, checked the steam switch was at off during heating and switched it on at the wall.

BANG the master trip switch, well tripped. Feck it, now being a man I of course thought if I reset the trip switch and tried again this time it would work.

BANG the master trip switch, well tripped.

I re-packed the iron in its original box and hit the shop.

Arrived at the shop.

Me: “I bought this iron here a week or so ago and it's fecked”
Assistant: “What's wrong with it” Chewing a tennis ball sized piece of gum
Me: “It's fecked”
Assistant: “Ah, have you got the receipt” cue harder chew
Me: “No”
Assistant: “Ah, how do we know you bought it here” Triumphant mastication in use
Me: “Possibly because it has this shops logo on it”
Assistant: “Ah” chewing stopped “OK we will replace it”
Me: “Don't want another one I want my money back”
Assistant: “We don't do refunds” cue enthusiastic chewing
Me: “You do now”

Cue bell ringing and the appearance of a suit. Well he did not get the chance for any pleasantries as I quoted consumers acts and customer care and the old “I don't give a feck what you say I want my money back”

Well the tennis ball of chewy fell out, the suit paled and I got my money back and went next door to get another iron and this one works just fine thank you.
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« Reply #6213 on: February 20, 2017, 19:35:04 PM »

My life is good. I have often expounded on my past. It is true that I have no regrets, I made the decisions in my life and I have lived through them good and bad. I have been graced with fine children (two of whom still live with their own personal ATM ie me).

My relationships with members of the opposite sex were never 'boring', I guess I am a difficult man to live with. No that's not quite right I KNOW I am a difficult man to live with. However I am now at a stage of my life where I do my own thing. Don't get me wrong strong relationships are a blessing and some of you are happily attached and fair play to you.

It's just that possibly I was never cut out for that kind of life. It was probably unfair to the women in my life that I was not suited to 'attachment'. I do know that all of the women in my past are still happily living with the men that they met after me and seem to be really enjoying themselves.

I have a good job and the disposable income to enjoy life I as I see fit. I laugh everyday and I accept all that life throws at me, life is too short to get upset when things don't go exactly to plan. I have been lucky with my health and with the friends I have met along the way. I don't get mad with idiots, I just ignore them. I can count the number of times I have really lost my temper on the fingers of one hand. My youth was scattered with scuffles but never malicious ones (if you can understand that).

My elder sister lives very close and we have a great relationship, we meet regularly and have a few bevvies and mash out our youthful experiences. I probably drink a tad too much, but I can. I probably smoke too much, but I can. I probably play poker too much, but I can. I probably spend too much money on travelling around to poker games, but I can.

So yes, I can stand up and say that my life is good... I hope yours is as well..
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« Reply #6214 on: February 20, 2017, 23:16:47 PM »

When my mother died she left the house to myself and my two sister's. As I had no immediate plans to return to Ireland and my sister's never will, we decided to sell it. As the house was passed through the family since the 19th Century there were some difficulties in finding deeds. It was not a major problem as this is common. The sale went through it was sold and we received the proceeds. I had reams of paper to sign as the only son and everything seemed fine.

One day I received a letter from the buyers solicitor, one final piece of paper for the land registry. Now my signature on this document had to be witnessed by a 'Notary Public'. Off I went to the yellow pages and there are three of these distinguished gentlemen in Chester. I chose one and made an appointment.

I arrived at the offices and was seen immediately. The following sequence of events happened

I showed him my passport for ID
I signed the piece of paper
He signed the piece of paper
He placed his seal on the paper
He asked for £50
I paid
I left

Approx 2 minutes (hourly rate £1500)

Give us a job ... priceless
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duke3016
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« Reply #6215 on: February 21, 2017, 22:26:16 PM »

I was sitting in the house opposite the church in Bodyke one Saturday morning nursing a sore head and Margaret was putting on a fry for me to perk me up when I heard a crash outside in the road. Margaret and I looked at each other and I struggled to my feet and went out to look with Margaret tagging along.


Outside a hay cart had dumped its load all over the space in front of our house and John Maloney was there staring at it and scratching his head. The cart had turned over and was propped against the wall of the house. It looked like the poor lad had been overloaded and given the nature of his ould lad I wasn't surprised. No real damage was done, but the hay was spread out a good bit. The horse was ok but John looked a bit lost. Now John wasn't the brightest and obviously needed a hand. I would have to tell the wee lad what to do and give him a hand.

However I was suffering and I needed to eat so I said.

“John come in for a bite and then I will give you a hand to load the cart again”
“I'd love to, but me Da wouldn't be happy” says he
“Feck him, I am starving” says I
“Well OK, but Da won't be happy with me” says he
“The horse will be fine, come on” says I

We retired to a lovely cooked breakfast and I felt a whole lot better and ready to help with the loading of the cart and we went out.

“Thanks for the breakfast Margaret, I feel better now but me Da won't be happy” says John
“Oh for feck's sake ya eejit” I said looking around “Where is he anyway”
“Under the cart” says he

Priceless
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duke3016
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« Reply #6216 on: February 22, 2017, 21:08:30 PM »

I stared at John and managed a strangled “What?”

“Me Da's under that lot” says John

Cue frantic un tackling the horse and lifting the cart off the wall. While we cleared the hay we could hear a low groan. Now I was confused, there would have been no weight on his Da as the cart was propped by the wall. While we were clearing the debris, the horse decided that he had had enough and made a break for home. We let it go.

As I cleared the remaining hay I was met with a very familiar smell. It was the smell of stale beer and the moans were in fact snores. There was John Snr fast asleep with a silly smile on his face. I turned to John jnr with a question on my expression.

“Me Ma said to pick the ould lad up on the way back with the load. He was still in the pub and a couple of the all nighter's that were still there gave me a hand to load him up on top. He must have caused the cart to topple as we passed your place.”

Well I creased and doubled up with laughter.

“OK I'll get the car and load your drunken Da and take him home” says I rather too sanctimoniously, causing John to retort.

“On your way back you had better call into the pub because your ould lad is still in there.”

That's my Da a great role model

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« Reply #6217 on: February 23, 2017, 19:24:57 PM »

2012 I think

There once was a dog called Archie
Who arrived at the house of Jaxie
He was so small, shy barely alive
That people weren't sure he'd survive

But they did not count on the inhabitants
Of this mad house with absolute miscreants
He knew nothing of the personality of them
That dwelled in Jaxie in complete mayhem

Soon he was off to parties I heard
Cavorting with like people in sunny Desford
No action was disciplined, no one would scold
A degenerate life was the future I'm told

Now he has reached the level of star
For Archie was destined to be stellar
He's on the way to causing a holy mess
With his own Facebook account no less

His friends will be many, his enemies few
His satirical wit will display on cue
Be careful if you get a request to be a friend
For your sanity will inevitably and quickly end

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« Reply #6218 on: February 24, 2017, 15:16:54 PM »

 Cheesy

...and then there was Fib. The poor, expressionless eejit.  lol
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« Reply #6219 on: February 25, 2017, 14:09:14 PM »

Tongue very much in cheek  Grin

Remember to never split an infinitive.  The passive voice should never be used.  Do not put statements in the negative form.  Verbs have to agree with their subjects.  Proofread carefully to see if you words out.  If you reread your work, you can find on rereading a great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.  A writer must not shift your point of view.  And don"t start a sentence with a conjunction.  (Remember, too, a preposition is a terrible word to end a sentence with.)  Don"t overuse exclamation marks!!  Place pronouns as close as possible, especially in long sentences, as of 10 or more words, to their antecedents.  Writing carefully, dangling participles must be avoided.  If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.  Take the bull by the hand and avoid mixing metaphors.  Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.  Everyone should be careful to use a singular pronoun with singular nouns in their writing.  Always pick on the correct idiom.  The adverb always follows the verb.  Last but not least, avoid cliches like the plague; seek viable alternatives.
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duke3016
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« Reply #6220 on: February 25, 2017, 14:09:53 PM »

Oh and.....

It"s is not, it isn"t ain"t, and it"s it"s, not its, if you mean it is.  If you don"t, it"s its.  Then too, it"s hers.  It isn"t her"s.  It isn"t our"s either.  It"s ours, and likewise yours and theirs.
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duke3016
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« Reply #6221 on: February 26, 2017, 20:57:11 PM »

I have been rambling about the Guards a lot, and sometimes tongue in cheek. They are on the whole a good bunch and do a very good job. I suppose if you are up to mischief and you have a chance of being caught then your thoughts are a little scrambled.

I was in Scarriff one night and was enjoying a wee drink when someone came into the pub to say that the guards had set up a checkpoint on the bridge and looked like they were there for the long haul. Since the shotgun incident the Guards had been on my case and I really had meant to replace those two bald tyres honest. I was with my girlfriend of the moment and her house and my way home were across that damn bridge. My only other viable route home was to go out the Feakle road and in through Ross which was a detour of about 10km.

I decided to take the long route home to avoid any complications with the law and their interpretation of what constituted “bald”. I bade goodbye to Anne and set off down the Feakle road. I was nearing the turning for Ross and lights appeared in my mirror. I was not that worried, the Guards wouldn't chase me or even know I went this way. Would they ?

I turned into the little bog road that would eventually bring me out at Bodyke village and was shocked to see the lights turn after me. OMG it must be them, only a couple of people lived down this road, bugger.

Well I thought if they are going to get me they will have to catch me. I knew this road like the back of my hand and I put the hammer down. Well I literally flew up that road and Colin Mcrae would have been proud of the way that I negotiated the bridge in a perfect slide (having slicks on the back helped). I shot up the quarry hill like a maniac and back down into the village.

We had two garages, turf sheds really, next to Jimmy Healy's house and I screamed to a halt and jumped out and opened the door and drove the car in and shut the door. All was quiet expect for the pinking of my car as the metal cooled and contracted after the thrashing it had got. No lights, had I got away clean.

After about 10 minutes I peaked out of the doors and the village was as quiet and peaceful as it always was. I walked down the road to the house and went to bed.

No contact the next day so I assumed I was a free man, although their attempts to ensnare me were getting more creative by the day. I wouldn't put it past them to wait a few days then clap me in irons.

I was in Tuamgraney the following weekend when I met Dr Tim Maloney and his wife.

“What about you Ger” says he
“Fine” says I
“You were driving like a lunatic the other night” says he

OMG the whole place knew. I was doomed, they were building their case against me, interviewing people, gathering evidence, polishing the handcuffs, checking the voltage on the chair and were waiting to pounce.

“What” croaked I
“I was behind you the other night going in the Ross road, you really must slow down” says he.

I must have sounded like I had been punched in the stomach as the air exploded out of me. I had forgotten that  he was one of the people that lived in that road and nearly killed myself for nothing with my paranoia.

Priceless times that can't be brought back but will never be forgotten
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duke3016
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« Reply #6222 on: February 28, 2017, 00:06:39 AM »

I have been bemused at the response to Italy"s tactics on the social network today. Let"s start with a given, England are one of the best teams in the world right now and rightly so. However the childish "Not fair" , "Not rugby" brigade need to take a long hard look at themselves. England were expected to win by a mile and indeed the coach predicted a 60 point margin (respect for the opposition?) . Do you not think that Italy knew this and needed to do something other than lay down and roll over. They came up with a ploy within the Laws and executed it brilliantly during the first half. Of course England were always expected to eventually cop on and respond (took a while though) and go on to to win, but I for one applaud the innovation and guts to try something different to attempt to nullify the supremacy in skill England were obviously going to "enjoy".  As for whinging after a win? get a grip......
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duke3016
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« Reply #6223 on: February 28, 2017, 20:21:53 PM »

I remember times back in Ireland where the older generation just didn't use banks and would have large amounts of money in the house. We used to have a shop and nearly all the transactions were cash. Nowadays if you use cash in a shop you are looked at as if you have 2 heads. Try paying with a £50  note and see what I mean.

Back in Ireland we were also undertakers (I have some tales around that I can tell you!)  and I used to look after the shop on a Wednesday night while my parents would go out for a few drinks. I was tending the shop when Mrs Touhy came in and asked if my Father was at home. When I said he was out she gave me a brown paper bag and said “give him that will you”. I politely asked what it was and she said it was enough cash to cover the cost of her funeral, as she didn't want to be a financial burden on her children.

I thought that was so sweet and that my Father would obviously feel the same. When he came back from the pub I gave him the bag and explained what it was for and his reply was.

“Stupid fecking woman, by the time she fecking dies the price of fecking burying her will be way fecking dearer than that”.  All heart my dad It's a wonder he didn't put a contract out on her..
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« Reply #6224 on: February 28, 2017, 20:25:09 PM »

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