This

This is Not Funny. I'm sorry, it just isn't.

Breakfast juice recipe.

You will need:
Orange juice,
Aquafresh,
A glass,
A mickey.

1. Put toothpaste all over yer mickey and make sure it's nicely rubbed in.
2. Put orange juice in a glass.
3. Dip yer mickey in the glass of orange juice.
4. Drink and enjoy.

Beaverial Transfiguration

Those of you who are familiar with good old Mr(s). Henderson will be aware that in the course of his/her travels she/he came into contact with a mysterious beaver known by the name Anne Gyna. Now you all thought that angina was something aul'ones take tablets for, but you've got another thing coming, because it's actually a beaver. So there.

However, the story of Anne Gyna is, just like all the other tangential characters on this Homeric odyssee of a blog, filled with intrigue and heartbreak. Well, not quite, but you get the drift regardless. In the days when Lyinda McCartney was still alive and kicking she was very clever and decided to use a little bit of the GMO in her very intelligent vegetatian food, which of course has absolutely nothing to do with W.E. Gladstone. But that's beside the point, and so is that. Anyway, Lyinda got into terrible trouble for using all them bold things and had to revert to good old vegetables. When I became a vegetarian first she was all the rage, but she's dead now so nobody cares about her. So much for all that healthy eating bollocks.

Which brings us back by a commodius &c. to Anne Gyna. Now, Anne Gyna was in her day known as Mary-Teresa McNulty, a nice Nordy Catholic woman who in her younger days was a good old hippy and was into Greenpeace and all that shite. Yes, keep with us for a moment. Mary-Teresa was such a good vegetarian that she decided to go off and join Lyinda McCartney's band of veggie pirates sailing the North Sea in search of oil. Sorry, wait a second. Mary-Teresa went and worked in Lyinda's veggie food factory, which was great.

However, one day she realized that they were using the bold GMO things, and so phoned Lyinda to confront her. Lyinda, however, was busy picking her nose ("eating her greens" like a good veggie), and so put her on hold, after which poor Mary-Teresa went insane from listening to five seconds of the Wings recording of "Mull of Kintyre". They brought her to Room 101 where she was confronted with her worst fear, beavers. When faced with the big-toothed furry things (beavers, not Cilla Black) she confessed to a multitude of things, that she was the one who put the GMO into the sausages (mickeys*) and that it was she who caused the Beatles to break up, not that bloody Japanese woman who sat in the corner while Elton John played his pee-pee-peeanoe. After sending poor Mary-Teresa completely insane, Lyinda and Paul's evil henchmen left her on her own with the beavers. In an effort to put herself out of this torture she reached for a box of pills left cleverly on the table and took seventeen of them. It turned out that they were Paul's angina tablets, considering he's an aul'one and all. For some inexplicable reason, this severe overdose of glycerol tri-nitrate (GTN, which has nothing to do with GNT or GMO or GOM, amazingly) caused Mary-Teresa to immediately take on a beaver-like form. See, exquisite style once more. Just for a laugh, the other beavers christened her Anne Gyna because she became one of them due to her overdose of angina tablets. How original. However, it wasn't all bad, as Anne (as we now call her) soon forgot her previous beaverophobia and quickly became an expert at building dams. And best of all she lost that fucking Nordy accent. Harr harr.

So there you have it, Anne Gyna in a nutshell, if you'll excuse the pun.

(*Obligatory mickey-mention.)

Roiding in cors with RO'G.

Those old Southside lads of a weekend do be going into the aul' bars near the river, but only those firmly on the south side of the river. Like Q-Bor, Messrs', and loike awl those posh places in Temple Bor, roysh.

These unscrupulous laddish types with their rugby shirts and their bling-bling (splatter choo choo) find that with the help of a really bad put-on New Yoke accent picking up thick girls is pretty easy for a bit of a score, loike.

Example:

"O, hoy, my name's Maddy and I'm from New Yoke."
"Ah Jaysus, yer accent's bleedin' sexy."
"Oh my Gawd, loike, are you from the Nortsoide?"
"Ah Jayz, are you a fuckin' Soutsoider bollix?"
"Don't ever loike come over to the Southside again or Oi'll roide you and throw you back in the Liffey."


NEWSFLASH:

A READING FROM THE MADE-UP CHURCH OF ULSTER

"Rev" "Dr" Ian Peeslee has issued a new Papal Bull which decrees that "THARR WALL BE NOO GEES IN AWLSTER WHAYLE AY AM FURST MANNASTER OF NORN ARN".

New ad campaigns include and "Save Ulster from Fairy Liquid", "Ulster says no to Rufus Wainwright", and "Death tooy Alton Jawn and awl big farry geeboos". (The latter is "unofficial".)

"Dr" Peeslee says, "Ay yooysed tooy yooyse Farry Lackwad wan that lattle beebee waz on that boddle, but noy that Farry Lackwad raprazants the gees, ay will have noo moor ov ad in may Chorch. Noy wee yooyse Quansworth's bast yallow leebel woshin-up lackwad fur cleenin mee Yooynyun Jack dalf."

Ian "Little Bollix" Jr said when interviewed, "May doddy is rayt, the gees wall destroy Awlster and the Meed-Ap Chorch wath tharr big pank flooyts. Kall tham awl!"

Marn MaGannas said when interviewed, "Shan Fayn wall meek noo comment on Een's remorks. Ay lov Een, but nod in a hoomoosackshooal wee."

MICKEY

A Reading from the Fourth Edition of the Gee Encyclopaedia 1994.

In the beginning there was the Word and the word was with Twink and the word was D. Agnew. And one day when they had a bit of an argument Twink broke D. Agnew's oboe in two. For a while that's why he started playing the English horn. He wasn't just playing at home, he was also playing away from home. Thus, he became a stupid, fucking dickhead. It was all Twinky-winky's fault. One day, while he was playing with his English horn with Proinnsias ÓDuinn, who was playing his own flute, for a change, he spied a young one playing a clarinet. She was very impressed with D.'s mickey English horn playing and he was impressed with her flute playing (even though she didn't play the flute). He reckoned that she was a better flute player than P-P-P-Proinnsias could ever be. So, she decided to became his whore and they lived happily ever after ever in Bastardland. The End.

In other news, the DubDoc (I did say he'd come up again). Once upon a time, there was a Doc that came from Dub. And so the angel of the Lord did appear to him, south of the Liffey. O, faithful DubDoc, you shall serve your people and bear a mini-Doc and he shall be called Mickey, which, when translated from the Latin, means God-is-with-us. But the DubDoc said, "How can this be, since I am a man and not married?" But the angel said unto him, "The Holy Spirit will come upon thee and the power of God.........

Speaking of Mr(s). Henderson, the last time we heard of him/her, s/he was in that bad, bad adaptation of Roger Rabbit. But, now s/he has finally found success working as a tailor(ess) making cheap suits for women in J. Asha's sweatshop in Ballymena, under the very nose of Micheal Collins and Ian Paisley (both of them). They're good value, but the wool ones don't have silk lining. The cheap bastards, harr harr. But, Mr(s). Henderson has settled doyn to become an honourable (wo)man, all in the cases and details under the law. The Nordies allow that sort of thing as it was brought in by the Brits. Like, look at Elton John and Mr. Furnish-me-cock-upon-Tyne for mickey's sake! Ian personally rubberstamped the legislation, even though he hates all them bloody mickey-fiddlers (particularly those that do be fiddling each other's mickeys in the bushes).

At this time the authors would like to point out that "mickey" has absolutely nothing to do with toast or Mickey of the Mouses. Therefore, even though he's dead, Walt cannot do anything against us. Mickey Mouse, we love you!

Enough about mickeys and mickey-related things for now. More to come later. Introducing the newest, brightest item with the most adjectives yet. Big, wonderful, enormous, fabulous, excellent, great, sparkling, awe-inspiring, happy, gee-filled (sorry, that's mildly mickey-related since that's where mickeys go, and because technically, gees are inside-out mickeys. In retribution, we'll smack ourselves twelve and a half times each with our Big Red Mickey™s), mobile, wooden, fantastic THING!! As all of these adjectives can be applied to mickeys and other mickey-related items, the purpose is defeated. Goodbye Napoleon. Some of you may be wondering about the sparkling mickey. It's possible and polished beyond belief. Ask Willy Wonka, with Depp or Wilder. Probably Wilder would be more likely to have a sparkling mickey, or a mickey at all. Since Depp is a mná in the film in the case of Hendersons. Jim Henderson probably has something to do with it. He pulls Depp's strings and his mickey too. God rest 'em. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. If anyone asks, Mr(s). Henderson was Jim Henderson's brother's ex-wife until (we made him/her up) Mr. Henderson discovered that Mr(s). Henderson wasn't a woman at all and therefore couldn't be his wife because he was actually a man, if one gets my meanin'.

So, this is the second chapter of the unofficial biography of Mr(s). Henderson. After moving to Ballymena, where all that sort of thing is allowed, s/he met and fiddled the mickey off a honorary Nordy citizen called Jim Bartley who used to be Bela in Fair Shitty. They availed of the civil-partnership law and got married in Inverted Commas. Well done. Mr(s). Henderson would have become Mr(s). Henderson-Bartley, but when s/he fiddled his mickey off, her/his new husband became a woman in the eyes of both Ian Paisley and Mother Nature. And because Mr(s). Henderson actually had a mickey of his/her own at some stage along the way, things become so incredibly complicated that we'll spare you the details for another day. In
short, the Nordies didn't allow them get wedded in Inverted Commas due to a clause in the civil-partnership legislation of the Nordy Queen Land, related to mickey possession. Instead, the applied to get wedded in Italics but that wasn't allowed either.

In the end, the couple broke it off (not that there was anything to break off in any case). Now poor auld Mr(s). Henderson roams the plains of North America in search of love. All she wants for Christmas is his/her two front ovaries. We will, in time, return once again to the tales of Mr(s). Henderson and Anne Gyna, her new-found Colorado-born friend, that happens to be a beaver, judging by her gee anyway.

Love from us all. Kisses. MMMMWWWWWAHHHH, x.