Month: May 2006

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   © Blather.net/Walsh In which the Count O'Blather tells of his great friendship with the late Fr Pat Noise, who died in suspicious circumstances when his carriage plunged into the Liffey in 1919. As I have just returned from the tropics, it has taken me some time to re-engage with the political hoo-hahs and media blurtings for which the fair land of Ireland is well known. However, I do see it as my duty to stay abreast of issues that concern the plain people of Dublin, like lap-dancing clubs and 'morr-guages'. On my arrival back into Ireland (via, of course, the eternal Pigeon House), I was handed a rolled up copy of the Sunday Turbine. Inside, some journalist was wittering on about the 'sudden' appearance of a plaque on Carlisle Bridge, dedicated to the demise of a Father Pat Noise, who was an advisor to the one and only Peader...

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Are you a female blather reader? Is the man in your life about to abscond to watch the World Cup? Are you worried that he might be tempted by the heaving, groaning, cavalcade of female flesh and an endless supply of cheap booze and drugs? Welcome to Artemis. Wind-bags In case you have been in a coma for the last six months (in a cave, in Antarctica, in a Polar bear's headlock) the World Cup is coming. And where there are World Cups there are World Cup widows. You know them - those lost, forlorn, rejected specimens of womanhood, left to fend for themselves as their male counterparts jump on planes full of beered-up, testosterone-charged Neanderthals and scarper to wherever the world’s most overpaid athletes meet once every four years to chase an over-branded bag of wind around an over-watered patch of grass whilst wearing pretty colours and corporate logos....