Topaz (Marina Service Station), Monaghan Road, Cork City, Ireland.

Mr Inbred Moron's filling station, Monaghan Rd,
Cork city.

The proprietor of this filling station is the embodiment of all that is Cork City, i.e. a very  unintelligent individual who views himself as having an intellect that's equal to or even greater than Einsteins.

This – as is the wont of Cork’s consanguineous natives – gives him an arrogant attitude that results in him putting his foot in his mouth at least twice a day. And to witness this inbred slack-jawed moron constantly showing himself to be an absolute imbecile does make for unusual, and sometimes pleasurable, viewing.

Through frequenting this place I got to know some of the Eastern European staff, and these told me some amazing stories regarding his Irish stupidity. One particular anecdote the staff told me concerned a TV crew who stopped by and asked him to make comment about the rising cost of fuel for a television news programme.

The crew intended to film him answering a few questions about rising fuel costs on the station's forecourt. The unfortunate camera crew soon realised that this chap had the intelligence level of a gibbon and wasn’t going to be able to remember the 5 or 6 word answers to the four questions they intended asking him.

The film crew tried writing down the simple replies on a cue-card but they couldn't get this Irish arsehole to read these simple words coherently and speak towards the camera. No matter what they tried they found it extremely difficult to coax him to read the cue-card with his peripheral vision, and act for the camera as if he was speaking intelligently and without any prompting.

According to the eastern European employee he drove the camera crew insane with his childlike antics and awkward imbecilic mannerisms. According to this staff member one of the film crew was almost in tears as he entered the station’s shop and asked incredulously: ‘is that fellow really the owner of this place’.

I wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear this tale, and think that the camera crew were lucky not to have visited on a Saturday because then they’d have encountered the proprietor’s relatives.

A couple – one male and the other female – are to be found manning this filling station at the weekends; and to say that the proprietor and them are cut from the same cloth would be the century’s understatement – both of them seem to be as thick-as-planks and the female shows a propensity to be very obliging if a male showed up wearing a uniform.

Then there’s the dark skinned eastern European female employee who looks as if she’s well acquainted with the routines in Lap-Dancing Clubs. This lady, I’ve been informed, is the proprietor’s common-law wife, and when she’s not breaking-a-sweat managing the filling station and directing staff in how to operate the tills she can be seen around Cork City with a phone that’s seemingly super-glued to her ear.

Ever notice how arseholes always have a mobile phone stuck to their ear and shout into it rather than talk? They seem to assume that it makes them look important.

I suppose she has to keep in constant contact with North Sea oil-rigs and Saudi Arabia lest the filling station on Monaghan Road, Cork City, runs out of petrol – or perhaps she’s ensuring that her moronic Cork/Kerry boyfriend’s loony medications are being stocked in adequate quantities by local pharmacies.