Topaz Filling Station, Monaghan Road, Cork City, Ireland.

This guy, in some regards, might not care the difference between a daughter, son or wife

A slackjawed halfwit owns this provincial
Irish filling station.

The proprietor of this filling station, which is located at Monaghan Road,  Cork City, Ireland seems to be the embodiment of all that is south-west Ireland (Cork and Kerry), i.e. he’s 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 an inbred slack-jawed moron, such as he is, 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 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 filming him on his forecourt while he said about five or six words pertaining to rising fuel prices.

The unfortunate camera crew soon realised that this chap wasn’t going to be able to remember the 5 or 6 words he was required to say, and so they wrote them on a cue-card. Then they had enormous trouble getting him to actually read these simple words coherently from the card and, at the same time, 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 employee he drove the camera crew insane with his childlike antics and awkward imbecilic mannerisms. And after about an hour of his inanities one of the crew, with tears in his eyes, entered the station’s shop and asked, ‘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 has a propensity to be very obliging if a male showed up wearing a uniform.

Then there’s the dark skinned Eastern European lady 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 morons always seem to have a phone stuck to their ear, and they never simply talk into it, rather they have to shout or yell. You'll see a lot of this in Cork City, is it so people will notice how important they are?

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.