Classic Own Goal

Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé!

Pixies, you wanna know what that is?

That's the sweet sound of victory for the French nation.
They are laughing at you. Everyone is.
You didn't really believe that you would have a fair chance to get through to the world cup in South Africa next year, did you? Oh really? Well, that's sweet. A bit like 15 year old, brace-smiling, dentist daughters on X-factor that think they are the new Whitney Houstons or Mariah Careys and just awfully suck.

Seriously, the same way no one wants to listen to these sirenes, no one in the whole wide world wants to have you and your appaling team at a football world cup. It's like going on a rock festival and listening to naff garage newcomer bands instead of seing the big acts. My ears are still full off your moaning, that it is typical that you have to play France now in the relegation games.
You are right about the fact that this was fixed and it is your own fault and you deserve it after voting no for Lisbon the first time.

But what is your point? If you can't even beat that French crap team, that obviously is one of their worst in ages (there is a reason why they are playing the relegation games: they are shit), what do you want at the world cup? Hoping for worse team than yours, that you might beat with your wannabe Italian defence?
I ask you Pixies: who wants to see that? Not even yourselves, do you?
And would you really be proud of your loser team drawing with teams like Denmark or Greece?

Listen: look at other teams like Germany. They used the last years to invest in their youth work. They have a young, unbeatable squad and are without controversity the odds-on favourite on the title.
Take you time, hire a new coach (Rafael Benitez might be available soon) as Trapattoni's way of playing football is a disgrace. Give young and talented players a chance (in case you got some), boost them and then you might have a chance to qualify for the next European Championship - if we let you of course.

So behave till then. Think of my words, Lisbon one was a cockiness, make sure things like that will never ever happen again.

Good luck Pixies, you will need it.

Lost in translation

Pixies, some interesting news for you:

English is not a god given gift to mankind.

I am delighted for the British Empire that they successfully managed to impose their language on the Irish nation. It is sweet to see your nice trials to keep your own language alive, although it is long dead and rotten as the meat in Superquinn's reduced prices section.
It's not a new phenomenon that you pretend to hate the English whilst at the same time admiring their football teams, TV shows, music and fashion and imitating their whole life style consistently: whatever insanity they come along with, e.g. moon boots combined with pyjamas, you adapt it.

Given that I am not surprised that you are acting with the same arrogance travelling to other countries and expecting everyone to speak your well-loved, sacred English like you do in the most ridiculous accent you could imagine (it's not teef it's a thief, you pronounce the th by curving your tongue, slightly upwards at the tip - creating a shape similar to a spoon between the tip and the base. The tip of the tongue should be touching the bottom edge of the top row of teeth, on the narrow part/edge, you dumbasses).

I just went to Sicily to escape your dreadful weather and to get at least a couple of nice sunny days this year.
More than once I saw how red-as-a-lobster, sunburned Irish tourists were speaking away in English to domestic Italian waiters or vendors not even making the slightest effort to ask beforehand if they speak English at all. It satisfied myself to see that these waiters didn't give a shit about this disrespectfulness and kept giving answers in Italian to them. The outcome was that these pixies ordered something they didn't know what it is as they couldn't remeber a word French or Spanish that they "learned" in school by teacher Mr Fritz and Mrs Scorchio, so they weren't even able to derive from the base of the words in the menu. Therefore, the redhaired Irish couple sitting at the table next to me were eating frog's leg now, in place of the wished Pizza Funghi and were drinking tomato juice instead of red wine. I overheard an angry conversation between them saying that it was unbelievably rude that the waiter didn't actually speak a word English and that they were tourists and would expect that at least in restaurants there would be a basic level of English comprehension.
I think it's absurd and paradox as the same bunch of people are getting annoyed at home by foreigners speaking their native languages in public instead of English although themselves are not actually meant to be part in that conversation.


Later on the plane on my way back I noticed other Irish people giving out that the announcements on the plane where made in Italian first an then in English. They got really pissed off about that and couldn't understand.


Pixies: arrogance doesn't suit you and doesn't make sense. Go back to your farm, eat some potatoes and watch your English favourite team not winning the league title again but don't bother travelling to countries where a different language is being spoken if you can't handle it. You are a disgrace for the whole European Union and as you now finally voted for being a part of it, you better cop on if you still want to fill up your pot of gold drooling over the millions the people of bigger and civilised countries as Germany, England, France and Italy are working very hard for day by day. Stupid is as stupid does. Over and out.

'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide

Just a quick note.

As in the near future (tomorrow!), right after the Lisbon referendum (I command you to vote YES this time!), the recently new elected Power-Germany and the best France since Johnny Hallyday will rule Europe - and especially your little rainy, greenish, moist, damp island - with an iron hand, you might think about booking flights now to escape to other, nicer countries.

To support you in doing do, I want to give you some advice.

I am not sure if you have heard of this, but I came across this airline yesterday and think their value can't be beaten, it is called Ryanair, and basically all you have to do is go to their website www.ryanair.ie and book a one-way flight online. It is a so called low-cost airline, where you can save a lot of money. Their CEO, yur man Michael O'Leary, seems to be a sly and very likeable person. I think they are offering a great service for small money and if I got it right, it is even an Irish airline, ironically enough that the only good thing you ever came up with, serves you pixies to leave your country and never come back. I'll stay here for another while, enjoying the silence and improved air quality when you'se are gone, checking if you left the pot of gold somewhere. I am sure you can't bring it with you, cause the weight restrictions on Ryanair flights are very tight, so happy days.
Anyways, I thought I would just let you know pixies.
I don't expect to see you here anymore by the end of the week.
Take it easy.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying

And I am dead, as dead I well may be

You'll come and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

Lisbon 2 is the "new" Lisbon 1

Pixies,

I would like to remind you to go and vote YES to Lisbon at the second of October for:


- a better life

- more jobs

- cleaner water


Right, that is what you should made believe, so do so. Done that, we, the mighty Germans, will finally gain power over you again and can do what we want to do with you: taking back our pot of gold!
We filled it up with our precious money for too long now, so you could invest it in your broken economy, streets and railroad stations. We gave you all and you returned nothing. Enough is enough, so vote YES for:


- a better Europe

- the future of Ireland

- a peaceful world

- the sake of Jesus Christ

- the benefits of a greener nature

- peace on earth and even Africa


Please have a look at the following very convincing banners to make it even easier for you to vote YES:

I count on you pixies. Vote YES.

CSI: Superior German

Dear Pixies,

I went to the CSI: The Experience yesterday in town as I am a huge fan of Horatio Caine.
You probably don't know what the exhibition is about, I better explain it to you so at least you have the chance to understand:

The Experience is a museum exhibit providing visitors with a hands-on, exploratory, multi-sensory experience in the world of crime scene investigation.
It is designed to educate the public about forensic processes, procedures and technologies. At the exhibit, visitors will investigate a “real” crime scene and
interact via video with favorite characters from the hit television show as well as real-life forensic experts.

David Caruso and David Hasselhoff have been my favourite actors for years now, so I thought it might be a good possibility to meet my hero and offer him my help with his job.
I always was the best in school and especially in maths and chemistry, as it is just so logical. Very excited I entered the venue, got my ticket and looked around. Strangely enough, Horatio wasn't there.
I must say I was so gutted about it that I was thinking about going home. But as I had paid money already to get in I thought "Why should I donate the money, I was working for so hard, to you greedy leprechauns? Just so you have even more in your stinky pot of gold? Surely not!". Having that in mind, a quick flash of anger pulsed through me.
I wanted to kick asses like "H" usually does in CSI:Miami. So I followed the crowd and joined one of the three staged crime scenes.
After only 29 minutes (!) I already completed my crime scene investigation and compared my clues with those of a real crime scene investigator (not "H" ! He must have been from Germany, I didn't like his stupid accent at all, my picked up Irish accent is surely a lot better than his, even the taxi drivers are asking me all the time, from what quarter of the town I'm from) and determined
which clues needed further analysis. All the other idiots were still pondering, but I think their IQs weren't very high but what would you expect as they were Irish.
After finishing that crime scene, I was even more angry; I paid so much money and now I was done after 29 minutes, they said at the entrance it would take at least 60 to 90 minutes.
To get at least a bit out of my money, I joined the other two crime scenes as well and after 37 more minutes I was done with them too. It was ridiculous, all
the others didn't even solved one scenario, where I was done with all of them. I couldn't believe what nutcases these people are. Seriously, it's no surprise that your police with that funny name (Gardai, is it?) is a joke.
Very dissapointed and furious I left "The Ambassador" and went home to watch my favourite episode of CSI:Miami and to calm down.
It was the right decicion to do that, I knew Horatio wouldn't let me down, he kicked asses and said at the end of the episode:

"Tomorrow is ............... (taking his sunglasses from his eyes) what you make of it."

I smiled and had to think again about all these gobshites - unable to finish one of the the crime scene scenarios. Tomorrow will be mine,  you pixies, tomorrow will be mine.

Acoustical Delight

Autumn.
Days are getting shorter, the nights colder.
Red-nosed people,
dragging themselves to work.
Swine flu jokes revival.
Joy.

Snuff.
Hearty, mucous snuff.
Schni-schna-schnuffy-protest,
insistent, remarkable protest
against the tissue industry.
Mucous snuff, mucous sleeve.
Repulsion.

Gargle.
Ahh... Abnormal noises,
Ahh.. never ending, nerve killing gargle.
Ahh.. rouragraallaaa...
Chronic, everywhere, no escape.
arougraalural.
Psychiatrist needed?
Ahh... arougraalural... Ahh
PANIC.

Pixiemania

My dear pixies,

in this post I would like to thank you.


Thank you for robbing my sleep.

Thank you for causing me another dreamless night.

Thank you again.


Listen up! I don't have a problem in general with you securing your pixie-homes, cars, motorbikes, boats, shops and probably your pot of gold with more expensive alarm systems than the whole thing is worth but you might want to consider that:

• These yokes go off every time a passing by cat sneezes, a squirrel throws nuts on it, the wind of change gently blows over it, a typical mid-thirty, high-pitched Irish woman pretends to be delighted about her friend's new shoes, a Liverpool fan shouts out his anger about Rafael Benitez, a bridge collapses just five days after being inspected (well done my Irish friends, well done), Mary Harney farts, skangers turn up Roxette's "sleeping in my car" techno remix on their mobile phones, Pat Kenny laughs his head off while counting his millions paid by taxpayers money, wanna-be recessionistas are sighing about their miserey of only having 5 instead of the usual 6 (in words: s i x) holidays a year or a lonely butterfly somewhere in the Chinese back-country flutters its wings.
  
• Given the above, why would anyone think these days: Oh, holy christ, there is an alarm, I should go and have a look or even better call the police? Children in Germany are being told only to shout for help if really needed, because otherwise people might think: Not again, shut up, would you?! and ignore it.
  No one gives a damn about your alarms. It's burglars paradise, they only have to put in some earplugs to ignore the noise but apart from that it has never been easier to clear out a house. The only ones that really feel a pain about it are people like me, waking up exhausted night after night.
  

I am seriously wondering how many days a man can survive without sleep.
I am suffering from insomnia, I am desperate, if that doesn't stop soon I need to go to see your infamous medicine man, Dr Pixie McKenna (let's not start with your crap health system at this stage).

If she won't be able to help me, there is only one thing left to do: get some old, smelly clove rock jars, put you pixies in there
and throw them in the Liffey, happily singing :

Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Whack for my daddy-o. Whack for my daddy-o
There's a pixie in the jar.

Thank you very much.