English Market, Cork City, Ireland.

If dogs saw the carry-on of the traders they’d turn-their-arses and walk away

English Market, Cork: a barn
that's frequented by inbreeds.

The building that houses this farmer’s market (only foodstuffs are sold here) is nothing more than a large barn in the middle of Cork City1. It has no architectural relevance whatsoever and it’s amusing how it’s revered by the local community.  

The natives view it as having the same importance as Paris' Eiffel Tower or San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge – the inbred half-wits can’t understand why aristocrats from across Europe aren’t turning up in their thousands to visit it. 

The typical Cork native is inbred and an idiot who isn't dissimilar to the mongrels that inhabit Galway City. And thus when one of these native slack-jaws is given a job serving on one of this market's stalls they adopt an air of elitism; they’ll adopt an aggressive attitude and snort derisory when a person of “lower caste” has the cheek to enter.

And this is just what’s to be expected when inbred morons – who are employed by imbeciles – get what they perceive as authority. This market is where you’ll get first-hand insight into the type of inbred moron that inhabits south west Oireland.

There’s not a stall in this place that hasn’t got at least two slack-jawed dirty-looking arseholes who’ll try their utmost to short-change or cheat you on weights. And when they’re challenged they’ll become abusive: aggression is the only way these backward Paddies know how to deal with any challenge.

If you’re foolish enough to intend buying meat from any of the inbreeds that saturate this place you should bring your own weighing scales with you. Mr. Cork Spud-head will have no problem claiming that the ½ kilogram of meat he’s trying to sell you weighs 2 kilograms – I’ve experienced this.

Just dip your paw in and delve around.

They stall owners don’t give receipts of any kind so it’s to be assumed that they condone this stealing – as is the wont of these inbred backward mongrels.

A stall here that sells olives (pictured right) really shows the Cork natives as the uncouth mongrels that they are. This stand is run by Jenny-Rose Clarke who views herself as being above the other stall holders.

That’s because olives are viewed in Cork as being very exotic; the others only sell meat, fish and bread. And of course these common items have no comparison to stuff that’s come all the way from southern Europe.

The olives are laid out in tubs along the stall’s counter and it’s nauseating to see the antics of the Cork bourgeoisie as they decide whether to purchase. The finely dressed Cork lady or gentleman will simply stick their hand into the open-top olive drum, rummage around, and then pull out a few and sample them. No objection, whatsoever, from the slack-jawed stall owner or staff will be heard, or any shame shown – a clique of inbred mongrels?

The natives use the fresh bread as one would a handkerchief.

Considering that these natives are not renowned for washing hands after urinating or defecating I expect that if these tubs of olives were analysed a lot of urine and faeces would be found.

   

Just a few steps away you’ll find a stall that specialises in home baked bread (pictured right). And here again, if a dog saw the carry-on of the local shoppers he’d turn-his-arse at any food that’d be thrown to him by the staff here. The bread is laid out unwrapped along the stall counter and this leads to some sickening sights.

The local asshole will pick up a loaf and he or she will squeeze it for all they're worth, and if it compresses to their satisfaction they’ll then go on to smell it. They have been witnessed going the whole way along the counter man-handling every piece of bread that’s on display.

I have even once seen a woman turn around and get her companion to also have a sniff, and then she left if back on the counter and walked off – pity the poor bastard who eventually bought and ate that particular loaf.

Paddy O'Connell is probably using his mouth to catch flies.

The star of this backward dive has to be Paddy O’Connell (pictured right) who runs a fish stall – as you can see from the photos Paddy seems to have a metal plate in his jaw that constantly jams in the open position.

This chap is a major arsehole who views himself as being in the upper echelons of the Cork and Kerry aristocracy – I’d hate to meet the female that bred this scumbag. Paddy has been seen attempting to bully prospective customers by snarling abusively at them. 

This type of carry-on is common with these inbred Cork bastards. It gives them a sense of power when they succeed in belittling someone; and they'll downgrade their profits and business to do so.

He’ll be tempted to try this for a couple of reasons. First of all it's the nature of south-west Irish natives (Picts) to try bullying any strangers they come across. And if Paddy was successful in his bullying he'd have the added bonus of looking good in front of his cronies in the English Market. 

One potential customer who Paddy tried to bully responded using adjectives such as, inbred, backward, mongrel and piece-of-shit quite aggressively. O’Connell, the slack-jawed coward, dealt with this by running away and exclaiming: ‘I don’t know what you’re on about’. There’s no point in trying to analyse his reaction because, like 95 percent of the natives, he’s an inbred fucking nutter.

“Oh look, another one behind me.” says the slackjawed Paddy.

This market is bursting-at-the-seams with arseholes like Paddy O’Connell. It’s a microcosm of the inbred society that passes for civilisation in south west Oireland.

The only upside is that the hand-outs from Brussels have now dried up the Paddies will have to stand on their own two feet; perhaps it’ll entice the backward bastards to try and quit being such fucking idiots.

The Cork native, though, is far too inbred to actually stop being an arsehole; I find it hard to even compare them to monkeys as these animals in their own environment are far superior intelligence wise than the south-western native – for instance: monkeys won't urinate and defecate in their own drinking water, an act the Pict Oirish are well known for.

But if only the fucking mongrels would at least try to improve themselves and their offspring there would be some hope, but expecting them to do this or even attempt it is futile.
_____________________________ 

1To call Cork a city is a major stretch of the imagination. It’s actually a large town that’s surrounded by housing estates, with a few industrial areas thrown in by the European taxpayer. The estates are mostly of the sink type and what’s being bred in these places would give George Lucas no end of inspiration if he were to make another Alien themed movie.