I’m proud to come from a life of privilege
We’ve got a huge fucking mansion outside Foxrock village
Three beamers and a Merc and a rolls Royce too
I spent all my life laughin’ at plebs like you
My Dad’s retired on a massive pension
In school I’ve never ever had to do detention
I’m arrogant I’m a right spoiled pup
Cos I’m the hero of the Leinster Schools Cup
Gonna get a job with Anglo-Irish
Even though I’ll probably bring down the bank
I failed all my leaving failed every one
I’m not the brightest if I’m being frank
But my Daddy’s on the board of directors
He’ll set me up doing filing at full pay
Here’s a cushy number for you now there son
Just sit around do nothing every day
OMG I’m a legend
OMG I’m a star
OMG I’m a rugby god
But out of school I won’t get too far
I met a girl from Mount Anville
One night beside the Wesley pitch
She played hard to get and she wouldn’t come to me so I said “you are a fucking bitch”
So I scored another bird right in front of her
Showed her I could have my pick
She came crawling right back grovelling to me
And on the centre spot she sucked my fucking dick
I’m a schools cup rugby legend
They all want to be on my side
I’m a fucking schools rugby cup legend
Every night I get a different ride
I never have to do any homework
All the teachers have to give me straight a’s
I’m the outhalf for the S and I do what I want
Messing with me never pays
All the goys wanna be me, the girls wanna be with me
the teachers wanna please me, the crowds wanna see me
One night I went a drinkin’ down the Burlo
I was high from snorting lines of creatine
The goys got into a scrap out in the car park
You know we always love to make a scene
I decided I was goin’ to do some damage
I lined one up and hit him in the head
All that kicking practice came in handy
In ten minutes he was lying down there dead
But I never had to worry bout’ being arrested
Because my family had bought off all the law
Just shut your fucking mouths and keep a secret
And remember to forget everything you saw
And why would I feel in any way guilty
Sympathy for others is a load of shite
I’m the upper class I rule you scum
You and me know well that it is my birthright
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Incidents I have witnessed on public transport
All from the 76 bus from the times I used to get it about 8/9/10 years ago.
Was going over to Tallaght one morning at about 10. The bus was fairly empty. I was going through my "mad lad" phase where I always went down to the back seat upstairs. There was only about five or six people on the top deck. Going past Finches in Neilstown a lad on his own with greased up matted down hair and a serious scowl on his face gets on the bus. I'd say he was about 14 or so. He makes his way purposefully down to the back seat opposite me. He waits about a minute, and then takes out a blade and starts slashing up the seats. I can half understand this sort of stuff if your with a group of mates or whatever - but 10 in the morning on your own? I didn't argue.
Another time at about 10 in the morning I was on my way over, I was sitting midway up on the top deck this time. This guy about late 30's early 40's gets on at Clondalkin village and sits in the seat directly in front of me. He's obviously stoned out of it. He sits sideways on in the seat and starts making me feel uncomfortable. Next thing he starts singing. He went into a bit oif a medley. First song he sings "If you've got the feeling jump up to the ceiling" by 5ive (it's true they really did go out at the top). Then he turns around and starts singing that song by Aerosmith - I Don't Want to Miss A Thing - directly into my face. Then by the time the bus had got to the Belgard Road he'd stated into "It's only words, and words are all I have to take your heart away". There were a couple of others in there too which I've blanked out.
Another time going though Clondalkin village, agin I'm sitting midway upstairs with only a few people up there. Couple of 14 or 15 year old lads down the back on their own. One of thenm takes out a screwdriver and starts poking into the back window. Next thing you know the back windscreen has shattered into a milion pieces but is still standing. The bus driver doiesn't know this and keeps going. Suddenly the bus has to take that sharp turn at the Laurels and the whole thing comes crashing down on a car following the bus. The bus keeps going.
Once coming home on a very full bus I was sitting downstairs on those seats where you face two passengers. It was a skanger couple, both about about 40. THe mother has a slobbering baby in her arms. I'd say it was about 8 months old. The Da is drinking a can of Dutch Gold. He's clearly stoned. Then the Da puts the can of Dutch Gold up to the baby's llips and lets a little of the lager come out onto the baby's face. Not that much, but just enough to wet the baby's mouth.
That's just a taster of what happens on the 76.
Was going over to Tallaght one morning at about 10. The bus was fairly empty. I was going through my "mad lad" phase where I always went down to the back seat upstairs. There was only about five or six people on the top deck. Going past Finches in Neilstown a lad on his own with greased up matted down hair and a serious scowl on his face gets on the bus. I'd say he was about 14 or so. He makes his way purposefully down to the back seat opposite me. He waits about a minute, and then takes out a blade and starts slashing up the seats. I can half understand this sort of stuff if your with a group of mates or whatever - but 10 in the morning on your own? I didn't argue.
Another time at about 10 in the morning I was on my way over, I was sitting midway up on the top deck this time. This guy about late 30's early 40's gets on at Clondalkin village and sits in the seat directly in front of me. He's obviously stoned out of it. He sits sideways on in the seat and starts making me feel uncomfortable. Next thing he starts singing. He went into a bit oif a medley. First song he sings "If you've got the feeling jump up to the ceiling" by 5ive (it's true they really did go out at the top). Then he turns around and starts singing that song by Aerosmith - I Don't Want to Miss A Thing - directly into my face. Then by the time the bus had got to the Belgard Road he'd stated into "It's only words, and words are all I have to take your heart away". There were a couple of others in there too which I've blanked out.
Another time going though Clondalkin village, agin I'm sitting midway upstairs with only a few people up there. Couple of 14 or 15 year old lads down the back on their own. One of thenm takes out a screwdriver and starts poking into the back window. Next thing you know the back windscreen has shattered into a milion pieces but is still standing. The bus driver doiesn't know this and keeps going. Suddenly the bus has to take that sharp turn at the Laurels and the whole thing comes crashing down on a car following the bus. The bus keeps going.
Once coming home on a very full bus I was sitting downstairs on those seats where you face two passengers. It was a skanger couple, both about about 40. THe mother has a slobbering baby in her arms. I'd say it was about 8 months old. The Da is drinking a can of Dutch Gold. He's clearly stoned. Then the Da puts the can of Dutch Gold up to the baby's llips and lets a little of the lager come out onto the baby's face. Not that much, but just enough to wet the baby's mouth.
That's just a taster of what happens on the 76.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
The Ballad of Anglo-Irish Bank
A homage to our iconic and systemically important bank, prompted by Ulick McEvaddy (pity he's not a tax evader, his name is crying out for a pun)
Ulick my hole and I’ll lick yours
We’re all a pack of filthy hoors
The old boys club, the old school ties
We don’t tell truths, we just tell lies
Lending money we never had
So Johnny and Mary could buy a pad
In some far flung field in Kinnegad
You’re in negative equity? Well that’s too fucking bad
We’re wealth creators, buccaneers
But all was not as it appeared
No matter how much we were told
We kept on selling pure fool’s gold
Shoebox apartments and property porn
Buying off plans before they’d been drawn
And now we’ve left one holy mess
We’re the Cowboys of the Wild Wild West
And the people kept on buying like sheep
Now they’re up to their necks and in too deep
But we can exercise our clout
We know our mates will get us out
Biffo, Lenihan, Coughlan too
They’ll stay with us and they’ll stay true
Cos’ it don’t matter how many fuck-ups we make
We know we’ll still get a golden handshake
So even though the country’s in the shits
We’ll raise a toast to Seanie Fitz
Cos’ we’ve got friends in high-up places
They’ll defend us, take our cases
Golden circles and pyramid schemes
Fuck the people and their dreams
But for all you good folk who are left
We hope you’re ready for the IMF
And when you’re languishing in shitty Ireland
We’ll be drinking champagne in the Cayman Islands
But remember that when the good ship Ireland sank
What brought it down was Anglo-Irish Bank
Ulick my hole and I’ll lick yours
We’re all a pack of filthy hoors
The old boys club, the old school ties
We don’t tell truths, we just tell lies
Lending money we never had
So Johnny and Mary could buy a pad
In some far flung field in Kinnegad
You’re in negative equity? Well that’s too fucking bad
We’re wealth creators, buccaneers
But all was not as it appeared
No matter how much we were told
We kept on selling pure fool’s gold
Shoebox apartments and property porn
Buying off plans before they’d been drawn
And now we’ve left one holy mess
We’re the Cowboys of the Wild Wild West
And the people kept on buying like sheep
Now they’re up to their necks and in too deep
But we can exercise our clout
We know our mates will get us out
Biffo, Lenihan, Coughlan too
They’ll stay with us and they’ll stay true
Cos’ it don’t matter how many fuck-ups we make
We know we’ll still get a golden handshake
So even though the country’s in the shits
We’ll raise a toast to Seanie Fitz
Cos’ we’ve got friends in high-up places
They’ll defend us, take our cases
Golden circles and pyramid schemes
Fuck the people and their dreams
But for all you good folk who are left
We hope you’re ready for the IMF
And when you’re languishing in shitty Ireland
We’ll be drinking champagne in the Cayman Islands
But remember that when the good ship Ireland sank
What brought it down was Anglo-Irish Bank
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