Year: 2007

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Yesterday, the lion's share of British media outlets ran with the story that a recent poll, conducted to figure out who was Britain's greatest wit, placed the writer Oscar Wilde at the top of a list of ten auspicious names. And indeed he was a funny chap. There's a slight issue though: Oscar Wilde was not British. Oscar Wilde was (drumroll) Irish. But no matter; let's not get hung up on semantics. In the interest of furthering Anglo-Irish relations, and generally educating the great unwashed, Blather.net now humbly submits its list of Ireland's greatest wits for your perusal and comment. Now, before we begin, we understand that there may be some confusion surrounding precisely what 'Ireland' is. So, in order to help our geographically-challenged cousins in the UK, we've decided to place this helpful map here to provide some simple pointers. You ready? Good. Take a look (don't rush yourself...

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Dramatic new evidence of the dangers of rogue jihadi animals emerged today as government scientists warned that a most harmful "stink" is flooding our streets. Crack Al Qaeda skunks have been caught on CCTV pissing, shitting and spraying London water services in an attempt to foul up the city's drinking grog. 'London water is a globally-recognised brand - known for it's purity, cheap costs and chemical benevolence' guffawed a Thames Effluence spokesman through barely controlled sniggers. An un-named source at the Ministry of Baseless Scaremongering said that a lethal 'Al Qaeda skunk' (acting on orders from Osama Bin Laden's cat) was responsible for flooding large parts of the Whitechapel area, after meddling with an unknown number of sewerage facilities and getting several members of the Thames Barrier maintenance crew monged on Grade A grass. Random 'facts', plucked from the air like farts from the fog, were bandied about by government...

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An odd week here in the London branch of Blather Towers. As well as changing locations (from the leafy suburbs of Muswell Hill to the altogether more interesting and noisy Turnpike Lane) we're also going back to college. To play games. No, seriously. Anyhoosa, inbetween unpacking boxes, bouts of fending off the largest dog in London (long story) and getting lost on the tube, we found time to indulge ourselves in one of our favourite hobbies: howling laughing at Irish politics. Irish Taoiseach (Prime Minister) Bertie 'Bundles' Ahern has been having a rough week. He's had his arse dragged into the Mahon Tribunal to explain himself over a series of increasingly Haughey-like stories about financial transactions which the tribunal is rather interested in and which, it would seem, Bertie Ahern maintains are none of our feckin' business. As if that weren't bad enough, earlier in the week his ex landed...

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Portugese police stepped up their investigations into the disappearance of Maddie McCann this morning, in particular their continued focus on Kate McCann, by officially declaring her a 'haguido', requesting permission to search her body for superflous nipples, signs of fornication with the great beast and finally to have her burnt at the stake for being blatantly more intelligent than the half-witted, strategically-shaved primates that are supposed to be leading the search for her missing child. Blather dispatched its finest man, (fives-times blogger of year runner-up) the redoubtable Filthy Hack, to the resort of Praia da Luz in Portugal this morning, to speak to Chief Commisioner Luiz Felipe Incompotentio . 'Clearly, it is obvious to us at this point,' he stated 'that having exhausted all avenues of investigation in this case, that the only logical explanation for Maddie's disappearance, is to make a wild stab in the dark and insist, in...

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Have you vague feelings that you are searching for something inexpressible? At last at Blather we have discovered what you should be doing with yourself. You need to fly a building. Here is our how-to guide. Step 1: Find a building. You need to go where buildings can be found. A journey through the heated desert wastes, or the cold snowy wastes, are a waste of time. Also avoid those excessive stretches of lush countryside. Buildings can be found in great abundance in towns and cities, so that's where you should go. Step 2. Gain entry to the building. Buildings are often surrounded by fences. Obtain a pair of wire-clippers to create a hole big enough for you to get through. Once ensconced in the grounds, wait until a door or a window is opened. Be careful to avoid people who use the building, especially armed security guards. Starting a...

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As the movie industry spirals ever-further into creative redundancy, TV shows such as The West Wing, The Sopranos and Rescue Me have delivered world-class ensemble acting and increasingly complex plotting - so complex that one author recently suggested that modern TV is making us smarter - to an ever-more demanding audience. But in recent months, one show is going even further: touching on primal fears about political manipulation, the nature of good and evil and, perhaps most interestingly, quietly introducing sigil magic to an unsuspecting audience. Meet the 'Heroes'. +Slow-burn+ On one level Heroes is a simple show - a slow-burn, character-driven drama tracking the evolution of a group of nascent superheroes, each gifted (or cursed) with an extraordinary ability. One can fly. One can walk through walls. One can regenerate. One can read minds. One can travel through space and time. And so on. The show charts their discovery...

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(GALWAY) Long-term lonely-heart and five-times 'Bunny Boiler of the Year' award-winner Mairead O'Hoop claimed she was struck deaf by the incessant ticking of her own biological clock last night, in the midst of a frenetic round of speed dating. Having successfully scared off five men in under six minutes, O'Hoop (32, possibly 38) was reported to be in the midst of conversing with a handsome manure farmer from Leitrim and was so taken with his manly charms, that the passing seconds became akin to the bongs of the Angelus, rendering her incapable of hearing his screams for mercy as she seized him by the genitalia and dragged him to the bathroom. 'We've seen this happen a couple of times now' said Eimear Grasp, the founder of 'sweatygropeinthebackofataxi.com' the singles and dating network which facilitates the popular speed-dating events of which O'Hoop has been a regular patron. 'Some women, well, they've...

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Last night, at the water torture facility at Mosney, Sheikhin' Stevens admitted to all his foul crimes, including the terrorist attacks on America of September 11, 2001, the Bali bombing, the Madrid bombing and the July 7 bombings in London. "I did it all," he said in a statement issued to the press by his jailers. "I did your seplember elementh whatever it was! I also did Pearl Harbour hee hee ha ha. I was the Zodiac Killer too. It was I who assassinated JFK from the Grassy Knoll, letting the infidel Oswald take the fall. I also assassinated RFK, MLK, Special K and John Lennon. I killed Bambi. I shot J.R. I murdered the chauffeur in The Big Sleep. I was the Third Man. I am Keyser Soze. I have links with the international bourgeousie under comrade Trotsky. I frightened Miss Muffet away. I tempted Eve in the Garden...

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(DUBLIN) The entire population of the Republic of Ireland are due to gather on Dollymount Strand, Clontarf this coming weekend to join in the world's largest instance of impotent fist-shaking at a neighbouring nuclear polluter. 'We're gonna tell them British bastards what's feckin' what so we feckin are' said a random drunk who crawled out from under a nearby rock. Campaign manager Gubnait O'Toss says that the demonstration will send a powerful message to British Prime Minister Tony Blair and British Nuclear Fuels (BNFL) that the Irish people are serious about the issues of nuclear waste disposal in the Irish Sea and that they are prepared to take serious measures to make their case heard. Irish Government ministers were quick to lend support to the campaign, with Minister for the Environment, Dodgy Roach, claiming that the Irish Government has been pursuing a 'vigorous campaign' against the nefarious Albionites and their...

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(LONDON) Slightly mishaven, tweed-wearing men the world over were aghast this Tuesday gone when Craven McMoneygrab, the newly installed manager of the Morrisey junket, announced that the legendary bequiffed caterwauler had finally, once and for all, run out of things to moan about. *Heaven Knows You're Miserable NOW* Filthy Hack, Blather.net's correspondent on idle, useless celebrity tittle-tattle informs us that Morrissey was in mid-whine (sources state that he was directing his ire at the current dearth of decent hair products on the market) when 'Moz' was overcome with a chronic attack of being 'utterly sick of the sound of his own voice' and was rendered almost completely inarticulate. Onlookers were horrified as the Mancunian singer seemed sapped of his ability to complain, feel sorry for himself and touch the very soul of manically depressed teenage girls everywhere. The former Smiths frontman locked himself in a toilet cubicle whereupon he entered...