Barry Turnbull & Company [Turnbull Solicitors], 33/34 Washington St, Cork City, Ireland.

A diminutive shapeless snarling moron greets at reception

The premises in Washington St, Cork where bullshit reigns.

The atrocious conduct of the natives in Cork city is so utterly debauched that every time you experience one of their acts of unbelievable stupidity you think that this is the worst they could possibly get. But the natives in this city will soon show that they can get worse; the slackjawed bastards seemingly can't function without massive doses of aggression and coarseness. Vulgarity and stupidity plays as big a part in their lives as does drinking water and protein.

Each time you experience that dirty inbred receptionist in a doctor’s surgery, the mongrelised backward trash who nurse in its hospitals, the insane pricks who run the post offices, and the type of cunts who work in education, you’ll think it can’t get any fucking lower than this. And every time you’ll be wrong.

Needing the services of a solicitor I visited the offices of McNally Campbell, Pope's Quay and was nauseated by the insane, inbred, witless arsehole who was manning the reception. This is par for the course in south-west Ireland so I decided I'd try my luck with some other law firm. 

Being optimistic and thinking that lightening wouldn't strike twice in such a short space of time – foolishly forgetting I was in the most inbred and backward hole to be found on this planet – I made my way to Washington St and ventured into the offices of Barry Turnbull & Co Solicitors.

And what a disgusting little cunt had this Cork legal firm sitting on reception. I can only describe her as a diminutive shapeless bullying bitch whose ancestors had probably reproduced with lizards – her parents owns a pub and she viewed this as giving her authority to throw her weight around. She was pig-ugly, a spittingly vicious, vulgar piece-of-shit who in normal societies wouldn’t get a job feeding pigs – if a clutch of porkers saw this scumbag coming near they’d commit suicide.

They’re that vulgarly aggressive

and stupid in Cork that you’d believe they must have imbibed reptilian DNA at some point.

Through gritted teeth I made the appointment and when I eventually met the solicitor I realised why he had a subhuman freak planted on his reception. He, like the majority of provincial Irish solicitors, when meeting someone for the first time likes to test them. 

The way they do this is by stupidly adopting an aggressive persona to see how the newcomer will react – it’s the type of stunt that would be expected from drunk imbeciles in a sink-estate pub. But this type of bullshit is par for the course with the mongrels in south-west Ireland so I reluctantly decided to hire him to act on my behalf.

A few days later I returned to Turnbull’s premises with documents that pertained to my case and assumed it’d be just a matter of simply dropping them off at reception and departing. Are things that simple in backward inbred Cork? Like hell there are. When I entered Turnbull’s mongrelised receptionist started to snarl at me from about 4 metres away, the stupid cunt had all the hallmarks of a demented fishwife. The inbred shapeless moron, among other indecipherable utterances, actually shouted at me from the opposite side of a crowded waiting room: “what do ya want”.

I robustly let this mentally subnormal Irish cunt know that I didn’t like her acerbic tone and wouldn’t be accepting it. I then let her know why I was there and deposited the said information on the reception counter and left.

These two weirdos are revered politicians in south-west Ireland, and probably good friends with Mr Turnbull. Bull is the pertinent syllable here.

What drove the mongrelised receptionist to act like she did might be a pertinent question. The answer to that is quite simple, the diminutive inbred cunt was (and is) mentally unhinged.

And the sad or laughable (whatever way you chose to look at it) thing about Cork is that it’s teeming with insane pieces-of-shit like her. There’s so many mentally retarded and outright insane people being born here that the natives have come to view them as normal – south-west Ireland is the only place on this planet where the insane are in the majority.

About a week after my encounter with the inbred backward receptionist I phoned Mr Turnbull and asked him how my case was progressing – if he had had a reply from my antagonists.

And he told me that: “no, they had not made any reply”. He then immediately went on to disgruntledly inform me that because they had not replied he would be taking no further action. His tone of voice was enough and I ended the call not bothering even asking why the inbred bastard was discontinuing, or why he had wasted my fucking time in the first place.

Both Healy-Rae's (two arseholes) needs – a hidden – 
someone to keep hold of their aged ponies – just like 
kids riding donkeys on a beach. This is the type that 
get 10,000 first preference votes in Irish elections 
and who Turnbull would attend soirées with.

Cork is an inbred backward place that’s populated with morons who seem to have somehow imbued a mixture of monkey and reptilian DNA. But even I hadn't thought it so bad that a refusal to respond to a solicitor’s letter means that the sued party can relinquish their responsibility, and forego any financial penalties their abusive conduct might warrant.

I can only believe that Mr Turnbull’s reason for suddenly discontinuing to represent me was because I had refused to accept abuse from his half-witted inbred receptionist.

Seemingly this thick moronic bastard, who could qualify as a solicitor in south-west Ireland, thinks it’s the duty of his clients to roll over and show their belly whenever one of his staff wants to dish out abuse.

As I’ve said often elsewhere: There’s no point in trying to analyse the solicitors or staff at 33 Washington St, Cork because they’re inbred Pict Irish, a type of backward bastard who don’t act or think like regular humans. A type who’ll prove to you again and again that they thoroughly deserve the dullard moniker that precedes them wherever they go.

The really laughable aspect of my attempts to get legal redress in Ireland’s second city was that I had to hire a solicitor from Dublin.