What is the Bram?

A collection of gees, mickeys and urban fairy stories.

NEWS FOR ALL FANS OF BRAMBLOG:

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Thanks for your GEE

Cahal does Nepal.

"I love sex," says Cahal to the Nepalese youngfella.

"But what is sex?" asks the youngfella, confused.

"It is complicated," replies Cahal. "You see, most of the time when my hand is on your mickey, that's not really sex. But sometimes it is."

"But Mr Oshark, I am confused."

"Well, Jumbo, don't be. And call me Cahal. Actually, no, call me Bernadette because it turns me on. Now, where were we?"

The 113th Feis Gee.

The Feis Ceoil was a grand old institution of Ireland until Siemens pulled out the sponsorship, which was a desperate pity. Now, the reason Siemens didn't want to sponsor it anymore was because of commercial interests. I mean, who gives a rat's mickey about classical music? Nobody. See? That's why it wasn't worth Siemens' while.

Until of course the organisers of the Feis had a better idea.

"Look, lads. Nobody is interested in classical music anymore. People only care about gee."

"Well, I second that, Poreik."

"Hear, hear."

"Grand so."

And so Feis Ceoil became Feis Gee, and it was a great success. Favourite competitions included the Ronnie Barker prize for shoving inanimate objects up yer gee and the Lar Shay Cup for finding a gee with your eyes closed. Of particular interest was the Sleevend Cup for shoving living things up yer gee. Now, it might be difficult to shove a Bulmers pint bottle up yer gee, but imagine the difficulty in shoving a gerbil up, never mind a guinea pig, or, God forbid, a rabbit. But that's what these batty ladies did, and fair play to them.

Feis Gee abú.

There was an old woman who lived in a gee.

Geein' Deein', shoving a large pipecleaner up a lady's gee in order to give it a bit of a clean. A microwave from ground level, and he doesn't have to reach too far.

An old lady named Kathleen standing at the bakery in Marks & Sparks. "Those are dead sexy," says Liamycakes as he passes, and the aul'one keels over. God be with the days when she was afraid to shag her husband Jim. She'd been to the Legion of Mary abstinence classes and before they got round to her with the tub of polyfilla she chickened out and ran off. But still she was afraid. So one day when Jim wanted to do a bit of hoo-haar she took the nearest thing she could find (a jam doughnut) and made a hole in it, and shoved it in hers. Her gee, that's the one. So when Jim stuck in his mickey it was grand and all, but Kathleen didn't feel like she was being violated. Well, not really anyway.

Jim was a little surprised when he took his cock out.

"Kathleen, why is there sugar on me mickey?"

Kathleen wasn't sure how to get out of this one. As she desperately thought of a possible excuse, Jim suddenly exclaimed:

"O, is that blood? I didn't realise it was that time..."

"O no, Jim," said Kathleen calmly, "it's just jam."

And so Jim was settled, fair play to him. After he died Kathleen was very upset and so spent her days in Marks staring at the bakery counter where once she'd purchased the doughnut she shoved up her geee.

Now Fat was a different story. She hates priests, you see. The reason she hates priests is long and complicated, and sometimes hilarious. But the main reason, as she explained pithily was because "they made me polyfilla up me gee". In the pre-nunning course run by the Legion and a whole host of old priests in the 1950s in which Fat was in attendance abstinence was encouraged by making the young ladies polyfilla up their gees. You'd be surprised how effective this was, and God love the youngones, they never got their hole. That's why Fat and Brendan could only roll around the assembly area on a load of towels. No matter how hard (hee hee) Brendan tried, his mickey couldn't break the polyfilla. So that was that. God love Fat. God love Kathleen. God love everyone. Amen.

Micko Goes Wine-Shopping

Micko and Janet had been married five years. Micko thought that it would be nice to have Maria, their two-year-old daughter, spend the night in the babysitter's house and have a dinner party with their friends. For the duration of the week preceding the day, the seventeenth of August, Micko was making the preparations such as asking Philo & Bridie, Baz & Liz and his brother, Jimmy, over for the dinner. He did some secret shopping and bought a lovely piece of lamb with helpful instruction from the butcher.

The morning of their anniversary, Micko woke up before Janet and made her toast and tea and brought in to her in bed.
"Happy anniversary," said Micko.
"Ah, Jay! Tanks, Micko. Happy anniversary."
Janet was delighted as Micko told her of the evening that he had planned.

They cleaned up the dining-room and the living-room for their guests and put on the lamb. Remembering the tips from the butcher, Micko put the meat in on a low heat early in the afternoon. They both had a nice afternoon together as they prepared the vegetables and tidied the house.

As the arranged time for the guests to arrive approached, Micko remembered the last thing that he had to do. He needed to nip down to the off-license for some wine.
"The veggies are almost done now. Baz and Liz'll be here in 'bout ten minutes. I'm goin' down offo to get some wine. Back in ten," said Micko as he kissed Janet.

Micko was feeling in top form. He was having a pleasant day. He was happily married for five years to his darling wife. The dinner party was going to be great and Janet would be happy to see their friends and would be over the moon about it all. Yes, the day was good.

"Hmmm, what about this wine?" said Micko aloud as he drove to the local off-license in Finglas. He held the door open for an auld fella coming out with a six-pack of Bulmers under his arm. As he walked over to the vast wall of the wine section, he stared at the tapestry of bottles with their colourful labels and foreign words.
"Can I help you, sir?" came a voice from behind.
"Eh, yeah... I'm havin' a bi' of a do an' I'm lookin' for some wine," replied Micko.
"Well, this wine is on special this week. It comes from the smallest vineyard in all of Bordeaux and is made by the Montesemont family who have been producing well-respected wines since the early twentieth century. It is full-bodied, smooth at first with an mild aftertaste of elderberries."
Micko's head hurt. What was this young one on about?
"Eh, righ'. How much is it?"
"This week it's €14.99 which is amazing value for such a wine."
A perplexed look appeared across Micko's face.
"That's a bit much innit?"
Suddenly the off license staff member realised what she was dealing with and sighed.
"Well, on the other hand, on your left is a cheap muck that we import from Slovakia. It's made by child slave labour and that's why it's only €3.99. It's complete piss but comes with a complimentary roll of Polo mints,"she sorrowfully continued.
"Hmmm, yeah alright'. I'll have four bottles of tha'. Tanks."
"I'm here to help," she said as she hung her head.

Micko bought the wine and a six pack of Dutch Gold and drove home. Baz & Liz had arrived and were in the living-room saying how deadly everything looked. Philo & Bridie arrived ten minutes later and Jimmie, and usual, was a little late. The dinner went perfectly and the conversation was overflowing. They all got locked on the cheap piss and thought it was wonderful.

Baz & Liz fell asleep on the couch at half-two. Jimmie went home because he only lived on the next road. Philo & Bridie ended up under the kitchen table while Micko and Janet went to bed sloshed and happily five years married.

No title necessary

One, two, gee o'clock, four o'clock, cock.