IRELAND: THE HOLIDAY HOTSPOT ... NOT

The bitch who manages the pharmacy fixes tractors every tuesday

Don't waste your time and money in Ireland?

A wonderful review of Brides les Bains by Elle Blakeman. The journalist astutely expounds the virtues of this ski resort while including a warning about the type of backwardness that Oireland has to offer.  

How true to mention in regards Ireland that: ‘the pharmacist is also the butcher, and the local mechanic on Tuesdays’.

I know from personal experience in Cork and Kerry that if an Oirish person can tell the difference between a cows head and arse then they’re considered qualified as pharmacists.  

The Oirish pharmacists/butchers/mechanics I’ve come across have all the decency and civility of reptiles that have been overdosed on amphetamines.

They’d have no qualms about shouting all over town about what type of medication so-and-so has been taking; and what local woman might have had a miscarriage or a mental breakdown – and mental breakdowns are very common in rural Oireland.

Pay heed to Elle Blakeman and holiday in Brides les Bains, or any-fucking-where there mightn't be Paddies.

WILLIE WALSH: HOW THE PICT ROOTS SHINE THROUGH.

Willie Walsh: Has he got the typical thuggish and

arrogant Paddy's head, or what?

I'd like to knee Richard Branson in the balls (and that has nothing to do with me being an Irish prick) 

Here’s another Oirishman who has no qualms about displaying a child-like stupidity. Has Willie Walsh no shame?  How could he so shamelessly show his Irishness in such a fatuous manner as he does below?

O’Leary is Walsh’s very best friend.
(Paddies are like rats, they herd together.)

He counters Sir Richard Branson’s offer of a bet by talking about a ‘knee in the groin’.  Then he goes on to say he does not like him and has no desire to meet him again – I’d say Sir Branson is crying into his coffee over this.

And then paddy Walsh finishes with a real gem: ‘I don’t see him as someone who deserves my admiration’; and goes on to bleat about the wonders of another paddy who’s known as Michael O’Leary.

Obviously Walsh met Sir Richard Branson once and provoked his ire by acting like a Pict paddy*.  As a result he got shunned by Sir Branson, and rather than learn a lesson from the experience Walsh instead carries a chip-on-his-shoulder, and hungers for revenge.

But instead of revenge Walsh only shows himself as a bigger fu*king moron — it, of course, goes without saying that Walsh is a good-old Cork/Kerry surname.  And Willie, the jerk, earns £1,500,000 running a company… go figure.

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*Pict paddies do generally act with an atrocious stupidness.

No point in being Oirish unless you show it at every opportunity.

Windsor Inn (B&B) 54-55 MacCurtain Street, Cork City, Ireland.

'I live in Cobh ... I'm a very important man ... the most important in Cork ...'

The homosexual barman spat like a cat when his
advances were refused.

This business comprises a B&B and Pub and is the perfect place to get insight into the shocking backwardness that Cork City and its citizens have to offer. Having heard some very negative reports about it I visited in order to check-it-out; on each one of my four visits I witnessed ever-worse moronism and coarseness.

The proprietor is a small slack-jawed chap who’s more than a little mentally challenged, and who has no qualms about showing that he is. For instance, he likes to approach people, out of the blue, and loudly announce: ‘I live in Cobh’. Seemingly Cobh is considered to be a well-heeled area of south-west Ireland, and the slack-jaws who live there are prone to crow about it.

On my first visit to this pub I witnessed the nauseating spectacle of an uncouth homosexual barman hitting-on male customers, and who, when rebuffed, got sulky and aggressive. I, like a few others, had to make clear to this chap that I had no interest in either him or his lifestyle. His response to this rejection was to get red-faced, make feline-like squeals, and then feign deafness when I ordered another drink.^*

Then there was the evening, a short time later, when I walked in, sat at the bar, and ordered a drink from the proprietor – seemingly the barman (mentioned above) with the bad sexual etiquette had found more fertile hunting-grounds. He served me and then returned to talk to the only other customer that was in the premises – this customer turned out to be employed as an odd-jobber in the B&B.

A scruffy little hole with atrocious management
and staff.

I then looked at my watch, as people are prone-to do now and then, and this innocuous action drew the ire of Mr Proprietor. He actually said quite loudly to his odd-jobber, while nodding in my direction: ‘look at him looking at his watch as if it makes any difference’.

What could anyone make of this statement? It would be similar to trying to analyze a lunatic in a mental-asylum who thinks he’s Napoleon.

The most outrageous conduct I witnessed in this pub involved three or four regulars who would approach other customers and poke them in the face. These fucking Irish idiots get some sort of kick from doing fatuous and dangerous acts like this; in way of explanation I should mention south-west Ireland's extraordinary high rates of insanity and mental retardation. 

One particular Saturday night these arseholes showed me that their imbecility knows no bounds. I was seated at a table talking to a Dutch couple who were in their late fifties or early sixties. They were in the early stages of a holiday to south-west Ireland, and had just booked into the B&B a few hours earlier.

Taaffe’s Bar, Galway

Quay’s Restaurant, Galway

Quay’s Bar, Athlone

Dan Lowrey’s Tavern

Crane Bar, Galway

Charlies Bar, Cork

Darragh Wiseman

Anne O’Brien, Boots

Pamela O’Sullivan, Boots

Helen Ryan, Cork

Dr Jacinta Barry

A local middle-aged moron soon came along and invited himself to join us. This native prick, like the majority of Cork city's population, had no compunction whatsoever in pushing his way into our company. 

It wasn't bad enough though that he generally made a nuisance of himself; after about five minutes of blabbering indecipherable rubbish he suddenly reached out and poked the Dutch man in the face – probably upset because he wasn't getting the reverence he expected.

Understandably this tourist and his wife were upset and scared by this thuggish action; it would have resulted in them both taking a better look at what they were surrounded by. Which, when their eyes had been forcibly opened that extra bit, they would have then realised were a coterie of patrons with the civility and cerebral capacity of baboons. 

I, being aware of the type of stinking cowards these people are, robustly told this inbred idiot to fuck-off. In what way did Mr Moron respond to this? Can you believe that the inbred arsehole challenged me to arm wrestle – the thing about the inbred trash in south-west Ireland is that they don't just think outside the box, they do their thinking in a different galaxy. 

Can you imagine what this aged Dutch couple are now thinking at this early stage of their Irish holiday? I imagine that the lifetime of negativities that they'd have, most likely, heard concerning Irish stupidity and backwardness swam to the forefront of their minds. A sudden and brutal realisation that the Irish actually are chronically stupid.     

Could a person such as Mr Moron be analysed in any way other than mentioning again the lunatic asylum and the stereotypical patient who believes he's Napoleon? He left shortly after, under threats of bodily pain, and I then informed the proprietor about how his Dutch guests had been abused and assaulted.

The slackjawed proprietor didn’t want to hear this and practically shunned me: basically he didn’t give-a-shit because these Cork morons hate to be told anything that reminds them of their inherent stupidity – these arseholes know subconsciously they're witless but rather than improve themselves they'll spend their entire lives keeping this knowledge of their own unintelligence suppressed. (This is the same man who got annoyed a short while earlier because I had the audacity, while sitting at his bar, to check the time on my watch – I don’t think that lobotomised chimpanzees could act in such a stupid manner.)

Considering the owner's mentality, the coarse bar staff he’s inclined to hire and the fact that this establishment serves food I'd be very fearful of the type of low-lifes he might deem acceptable for working in his kitchen. I definitely wouldn’t eat any food that this halfwit or his cronies might serve up.

I’m sure that when the Dutch couple eventually got home they exercised their right to free-speech and regaled their relations, neighbours, and friends about the extremely coarse halfwits and dirty business establishments they encountered in Ireland. The upside of this is that all who hear their tales of Irish imbecility will be inclined to take their holidays in areas that isn't populated and managed by halfwitted idiots – at least they might be spared the imbecilic Oirish experience.

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*This type of behaviour can also be seen in other Cork pubs and more often than not the managers/proprietors are too dumb to realise that’s it’s costing them money. Nor can they see that it reinforces the reputation they have for stupidity. And if they do go broke, sure begorrah, they'll simply get another bundle of cash from the German taxpayer.

Silvercrest Foods (ABP Food Group), Ireland

What a fatuous statement (below) is this from the food company that was found to be supplying beef products which were saturated with horse and pig meat.

First off they shoot-themselves-in-the-foot by announcing that Tesco is continuing to source food products from their company – I’m sure Tesco will be delighted to have this company announcing that their products are still on its shelves.

Then they talk about “trust”. Was it childish stupidity or arrogance that, after defrauding millions of people, impelled them to mention trust? Or did the author of this piece get his/her inspiration from Tesco’s statement?  I can imagine how a childish-minded moron could read Tesco’s statement and latch onto their mentioning of trust.

For your information Silvercrest:

Tesco deals with its customers/clients in an honest and decent manner; as such they are entitled to talk about trust.  Silvercrest and the ABP Food Group have done just the opposite, and have the gall of a drunken-paddy to even think about the word trust let alone mention it.

As for their claim of, ‘management change’, I hope they have brought in some foreigners to run their company.

And what can be said about their prophecy, ‘we will become an industry leader in this area’ – does this mean industry leaders in keeping medicated horse meat out of their beef burgers? They certainly were industry leaders when it came to getting cheap meat that was not even fit for dog food.

Finally they have the brazenness to say that they’re, ‘proud of our excellent reputation for quality and service throughout Europe’. After what’s been revealed in the last few weeks, are these people imbibing something that completely shuts down their brains?

It’s disgusting that they haven’t the common sense to simply apologise, instead of coming out with a moronic and witless statement like this. I wonder if the imbecilic writer is from the Cork or Kerry area, or has he/she been “educated” in either of these places?

Can anyone bullshit like the Paddies?