Today's Youth

Guess who I hate. Go on, have a guess. No, not travellers; well yes, but they are not the subject of my "tirade" (if you will) this evening. Not Eastern Europeans half-heartedly molesting women on public transport. No, not James Blunt, but good guess. My loathing for these undoubtedly despicable items pales when compared to my lust for the destruction of the young. They flounce and twitter in that lighthearted way so beloved of the intellectually deficient around me, mocking my limp and expensive fashion sense. But if a man can't wear a tie-dye jumpsuit, is he really a man?

What has set me off on this rant, you ask? Well last week I was in our nation's great capital when a panhandling scumbag with his tracksuit bottoms tucked into his socks, aged about 12 with already a small suburban rainforest on his upper lip asked me to purchase cigarettes for him. This little chappie looked like a 5'2" version of that charming chap who calls himself "The Streets" and had a mouthful of yellowing stumps that many in the dental profession could not classify as teeth.

I struck him with my pimp hand, gave him a right going over for polluting my aura, and left him bleeding in a faeces-stained alley to await the paedophiles who crawl the inner city at night looking for poontang. The last time such a ruffian will stain my reputation by making eye contact; no doubt.

The only solution, the final one if you will, is to create some sort of institution where the young can be kept during the daylight hours. Attendance shall be made compulsory, and the wardens will have almost total control over the lives of their subjects. Parents can opt for more upmarket borstals where inmates can be taught valuable life skills, or the poor can send their seed to state-sponsored institutions which can also teach them something to keep them busy when they get out aged 18, i suppose. I shall table this as a motion at the very next Dáil session, I believe that this shall be remembered as my great contribution to Ireland's justice system. Within weeks of the introduction of my new laws, I think we shall find that the crime rate will halve! Oh goodness me I am a genius.

A Sojourn in Deepest Dublin 24: Part 1

Friends, I promised I would tell you the story of where I have been for the last few weeks, and since I have found a spare moment, I shall regale you with tales of wonderment and glory.

Well I'm ashamed to tell you I was in trouble with the law. I had a bit of a run-in with a homosexual from the sailing club. The gentleman in question, clothed top-to-toe in House Of Fraser attire, dared impugn my reputation; in lisping tones he spurted "Oh Fiachra, we both know that even if you did get married you couldn't consummate it if you tried!" Well, long-term readers of this weblog will know that I don't take kindly to West Coast Cooler sipping "batty boys" calling into question my potential in an area with which they are by definition unacquainted.

Yes, I glassed him, but is that such a crime? In today's workaday world, we all run into moments of stress, and as you all know, my favourite method of stress release is hate crime. Well, to cut a long story short, I ended up in front of a court of law. I have found myself in similar positions before, but usually the judges have been personal friends of mine, or pliable with brown envelopes filled with nature's lubricant, money. In this case, not only was the judge a woman, but she returned the gifts i sent to her! Such sanctimony is becoming all to common in the judging profession, and must be stamped out.

However, I digress. The fact of the matter is that the silly old cow gave me 60 days of community service in a Youth Correctional Facility, or as we called them in my youth, borstal. My job was to give motivational talks to the youths. Such a motley crew one has never seen. Murderers, rapists, lepers, leper-rapists and joyriders: and that was just the staff!

Well gentlemen, it has been an awfully long day, and I'm afraid that if I continue I may fall asleep on the keyboard. Thus, I bid you adieu with a promise of more stories to come.

Fiachra Returns

Well, my friends, I'm back! I was away building houses for the poor tsunami victims in Indonesia for a few months. I think it is important that we learn to look after the unfortunate in this world of ours, and so decided to give something back.

Only joking!

However, it has been quite an eventful time since I last updated you of my doings. I will furnish you of the details of my sojourn into deepest Dublin 24 at a later date; suffice it to say that John and Jacinta will never be quite the same again. However, there is an item of far greater importance on my agenda.

My butler informed me today that an Irish lady won €115 million in a European lottery recently. It struck me how this woman can now afford to buy more than a million Ralph Lauren polo shirts, or buy a respectable business and make it her own. However, this woman is not the type of person who deserves such a jackpot. She has lived a life of depravity in the proposed setting of the next Grand Theft Auto game: Limerick City. She has six children, a figure of which most rabbits would be ashamed, and works as a dressmaker.

Therein lies the ultimate problem with lotteries of this sort: as it is only the poor and depraved who feel the need to play, they are the only ones that win; and thus you have isolated incidents such as this in which those unaccustomed to money suddenly find themselves with far too much of it. They go insane; doing things that only paupers would do, but only gentlemen can afford. So when you hear that she has used her €115 million to house the poor in Indonesia, come back here so I can say I told you so.

You Got Served, Mr. Davisons

Mr. Davisons has resorted to base allegations of "frugality" as he so ineloquently put it, in order to sully my reputation and make me look gay! The thing is, there is no way I can counter his lies, because his existence is based on a lie. However, if I may say so, Mr. Davisons must be somewhat lonesome, if he resorts to childish internet games to "get the elusive cock," whatever that means.

As to his allegations of metrosexuality among the cast and others, Tom Lowe is more metrosexual than any person who trolls the internet for cock. He claims that I "probably" contracted syphilis from consorting with common folk in the tavern. This is not the case. When I said that I gave Ms. Chamberlain syphilis, I merely meant that I put some spores in her cornflakes.

In response to his claim that I look a little rough sometimes, perhaps he would do well to note that his website's background is a horrible KHAKI! Yes, that's right gentlemen, his website is khaki! And he has the grapes to say that I "looked not dissimilar to being pulled backward through a bush as the bush was pulled through a combine harvester. " Good sir, your website could be mistaken for one that had been raped with a cricket bat while being beaten to death with an ugly stick, so spattered is it with the blood of good taste.

Methinks I Have A Battle On My Hands

Goodness me, was I surprised to find on my daily trawl of the web a website calling itself "Why Ask Fiachra?" It appears that someone has decided to challenge me to an internet brawl.

http://aristocraticopinions.blogspot.com/

Well it's a good idea that "Mr Davisons" didn't challenge me to a spelling competition then. He appears to be jealous of my far-reaching influence and attractiveness; poor fellow. No doubt he was abused as a child and so must resort to petty squabbling with people he doesn't know, and can never hope to know due to his inferior social stature.

Well, my unaristocratic friend, will you continue to fight me, or will you back down like that buffoon from Torrin Hills Research? Please do continue, not since Neville Chamberlain in the race for parliament have I had an adversary capable of defeating me, and even then I managed to give his wife syphilis before he got away...

So do your damnedest, Davisons, but I'd check your meals for syringes from now on. My minions are after you.

Blackie II: Return Of Blackie

Oh my, it appears that our friend Blackie has returned for more punishment. It seems that he's some sort of masochist, or perhaps just an idiot... who knows? I'm not going to respond to him this time, my point has been made. However, I would dearly like to point out in mind-numbing detail the mistakes he made in his poor attempt at a business email.

Dear Chamara Perera,

Who in nomine Deo is Chamara Perera? Is he implying that I'm a dirty Spaniard?

Thank you for your prompt response to my previous investment proposed message.

No problem in that message responding message business happy longtime fortune cookie!

Honestly, one would think he wrote the subtitles for Japanese films.

I am particularly happy with your interest to work with me in realizing this once in a life time opportunity, and all i want to assure you is you will never regret your involvment in this transaction which is 100% risk free.

Until I transfer thousands of my hard-earned euro into the bank account of a shifty foreigner who can't speak the Queen's language properly

I need you in this transaction to realize this claim into your account because i am not a foreigner and i do not have foreign account, hence the need for your assistance.

He denies that he's a foreigner! The cheek! He truly is a flagrantly ungentlemanly type!

Again, I need from you absolute honesty and
trustworthiness, beleiving that you will not sit on the whole money when
transferred into your account pending when i arrive to your country for
disbursement in agreed ratio.

Not content with claiming himself to be a purebred descendant of the King Of England, he claims that I might want to abscond with the money! I should slap him upside his head!

I'm too old to be going about this business, I'm barely even midway through this incompetent darkie's "investment proposed message" and already I need a cup of tea and a lie down. It just makes me so angry to see someone so black try to contact me! Sully my name will he?

More later.

Oh Goodness Me, A Business Opportunity!

A good evening to one and all; 'tis I, Fiachra. This afternoon I was pleasantly amused by the foolishness of a member of the genus blackus blackus in emailing me thus:

Dear Friend,

I am pleased to introduce a business opportunity to you to transfer to your overseas account a huge amount of money deposited in one of the Prime Banks here in Dakar-Senegal. I urgently want to know you and if you are capable of handling and accomodate this magnitude of funds until I resign and come over to join you for an investment in your country. What I need is a reliable and honest individual/organisation that would be capable and fit enough to provide either an existing bank account or set up a new Bank Account immediately to receive this funds. Even an empty bank account can serve to receive this funds as long as you will remain honest to me till we actualise this interest.

My name is Dr. Salif Mamadou, the Director of Bill and Exchange at the Foreign Remittance Department of the same bank. I am writing following the impressive information about you through one of my friends who runs a consultancy firm. He assured me of your capability and reliability to champion this business opportunity.

In my department we discovered an abandoned Sum of $18.5M USD Eighteen Million, Five Hundred Thousand US Dollars), in an account that belongs to one of our foreign customers an American by name: Mr.Neal Walker who died along with other passengers in EgyptAir Flight 990 - October 31, 1999. Since we got information about his death, we have been expecting his next of kin to come over and claim his money because we cannot release it unless somebody applies for it as next of kin or relation to the deceased and the person must be foreigner as indicated in our banking guidelines. Futher investigation, we discovered that the owner of the account died without a [Heir/WILL] hence the money is floating and if I do not remit this money out urgently it will be forfeited for nothing.

It is therefore upon this discovery that I and other officials in bank now decided to make this businness proposal to you and release the money to you as the next of kin or relation to the deceased for safety and subsequent disbursement since nobody is coming for it and we do not want this money to go into the Bank treasury as unclaimed Bill. The Banking law and guideline here stipulates that if such money remained unclamed after five years, the money will be transfered into the Bank treasury account as unclaimed fund.

The request of foreigner as next of kin in this business is occasioned by the fact that the customer was a foreigner and I can not stand as next of kin to a foreigner,it is also against our the banking law, guideline and ethics of banks here in my country. We have agreed that 20 % of this money will be for you as foreign partner, in respect to the provision of a foreign account, 10 % will be set aside for expenses incured during the business and 70 % would be for me and my colleagues. There after I and my colleagues will visit your country for

disbursement according to the percentages indicated.

Therefore to enable the immediate transfer of this fund to you as requested to provide the following: Your full name and address, Your direct telephone and fax number and your bank information. All the requested information will enable me perfect all the necessary things in your favour for smooth transfer of the fund into you account as you will provide.

If you are interested, please contact me via my email address: mamadou_salif@mixmail.com and also call me on my telephone for more details: 00221 699.9741. Upon your response, I shall provide you with more details on how we shall proceed with the claims. I expect you to observe utmost confidentiality and be rest assured that this transaction would be profitable for both of us without any risk involved.

Awaiting your urgent reply.

Thanks & Regards.

Dr. Salif Mamadou.

I was amused for a few moments by the incompetence of this fraudster, then I said to myself "Goodness Fiachra, wouldn't it be marvellous if you were to send an email back, pretending to agree to his business plans, but instead insulting him because of his race; thus showing the white man's supremacy over the Dark Folk. Here follows my response to his hideously typed tender.

Dear Sir,

Since the negroid races were released from captivity in the deep south
of America, they have caused nothing but trouble. You are an example
of this. However, this does not preclude me from doing business with
you. You say that you are willing to give me 20%. Does this include
tax? If not I want at least 30% to cover the taxman's cut. Don't even
bother asking me for a way to get into the country you filthy
immigrant, just because I'm an elected official doesn't mean I'll pull
strings so you can steal dacent jobs off the plain people of Ireland.
Go back to your own country where maybe people want you.

Here follow my details:

Fiachra Davison
La Petite Putain
Putain Avenue
Dalkey
Co. Dublin

Should "Blackie" (as I have taken to calling him) respond, I will paste the pudgy-faced applejohn's writings into this diary post-haste for your consumption and amusement.