Friday, 30 May 2008


When the wild, auld ancient Egyptions were nocking up the Pyramids, they used two say, "And of the heat-we wool knot speak"
Twas on such a day, that I was sweltering out in the long grass and nettles in front of my lunge winda. The sweat was pouring off me like a barb-a-cued pig. I had my lusterous mass of red hare held back with a length of baling wire. I was genteenily and lady-like attired in world war too desert rats, kar-key shorts and a striking mustard yella, vee-necked simmet.
I was avdily pursuing, or (L prosequi) a big book, relating two the principles of the Archimedes screw. "Yes Arch" I muttered "I sea where you're coming from" I red on, letting little, "Ah-has, yes, good on yeh yeh boy yeh" out of me.
Bon Jovi, the boy child, who had sprang from my lions, came and stood beside me, clad just in swaddling cloths. The cub looked over my slender, girligh shoulder and roared.
"Who's that auld fool and what is he up two?"
I grimaced, furrowed my hi knowledgable four head and replied testically, "That my boy, is Mr Archimedes, wan of the brainest peeple this world, or any other world has scene"
"What did he do then that was so grate?" roared the cub.
I made an arc of my fingers, crossed wan plump,leg seductively over the other and taut the cub in the following manner.
"Let me take you two Greese" I said. "All rite" yelled Bon Jovi "when are we going?"
"Know, know" I said "I am talking metaphysically. "LOng, long ago" said I "The peeple of Athens, were dying for water, they were lying in the streets, panting like auld dogs.
The wells had dried up and the weather forecast was, good, with long sunny periods.
Young Archimedes, was sitting in his tool shed, reeding the Athens Son, he saw the peeple dying from thirst and he put the paper down and said, "Low, the peeple need water, I must help them, but the water is deep under-ground. How kan I get the water up? I no, I wool build a big wooden screw, with a rite hand thread and bring the water up that way--and he did"
Bon Jovi picked his no's and said "He was some kid, look at all the would,"
"Yes" I said "It must have cost him a pretty penny at the local Athens B and Q"
"Pearhaps he went too Ikea and got it flat packed" said Bon Jovi
Then Bon Jovi broke wind and roared, "Hauld on, hauld on, did they knot have any bog wholes in Athens?"
"Know" I said "They were all filled in for the Olympic games"
"Makes sense two me" said Bon Jovi "the last thing you wood want two sea, is a javlin thrower up two the oxters in clabber. Mammy" said the cub "You're wild smart so you are, arn't you?"
"Yes, I is sun" I said "There are too things I am knot 'umble about and them too things is my grate beauty and my fierce intelligence".
"And yet" said Bon Jovi "Everyone in Clougher hates you and laughs at you behind your back" I felt my wattles turn red and the hare stood up on my head like a porkapine.
"Jelly-say" I said "Its what as known as the tall pansey syndrome"
"What's the tall pansey synadrome mammy?" said Bon Jovi.
"Its a biologial metorite" I said. "YOu have a bed of panseys, but wan of the pansey's is taller than the rest, so the other pansey's hate it because it is bigger than what they are."
"So much two learn--and so little thyme" muttered BOn Jovi.
Bon Jovi looked at a nettle and said "Wood that nettle be the tall pansey, because it is bigger that the rest?" "Yes it wood sun"
Bon Jovi glowered at the tall nettle-then he jumped too his feet, cut the nettle in half with a stick, and roared, "There youse is now boys, youse is all the same height and stamped off into the house, seeking food, drink or a slash.

Thursday, 29 May 2008


Ah, the pleasure of an alfresco slash, Oh two get away from the konfines of the po in a darkened korner. Two feel the gentle breeze on one's ars-derriere. EArly this morning, I skipped from the house like would-land nymph, I leapt the garden wall, like a veritable gazelle and tripped, Mary Poppin's like into the whins. As I hunkered down with a contented-AAH, I feasted my maidenly, girlish occulars on natures beauty.
The lincon green whins, were literary bowed down with yella flours-natures gold, I sniffed the freash, clean heir (this was in pre-slash mode) how refreshing, how simply devine.
A carpet of buttercups lay at my hob-nailed boots, each little flour, standing on tip-toe, trying to reach the son. The lush, green grass, so beautiful and better than any toilet paper, even the wan that the wee labador pup likes.
A bumble bee emerged from my rear, like an army helly-coptor, the creels on its knobbly legs full of pollen. "Fly my little one" I cried, "FLy to the hive and empty your creels of pollen and boke up necter for the little bee wains"
I was prolonging my slash, the better too enjoy the pleasure, it is akin, too leaving the kream bun on your plate, while you eat the heel from a pan loaf. PLeasure should knot be rushed, it should be savoured. But alas, all good things must come to an end and I grabbed my maidely knees and began the process of slashing.
Aah the relief, aah the pleasure, I have said it before, outside the chapel on a Sonday and I'll say it again, there is nothing in this world that komares with a good slash. A good slash is an indicater that your bladder is working and that there are know air locks in the pipes.
While I was slashing, I was also bobbing up and down like a meer-kat keeping an eye out for unwanted intruders. People wood pay good money two sea me slash on the internet.
"What could be better than this? I entoned, "the son on your back, natures beauty all around and flies and midges round one's head like a veritable heaveny choir.
It was quite a prolonged slash, that's what comes from saving it up--but alas, the volume diminshed and I new the slash was coming two an end. I arose like Venus from the whins and tripped gaily and daintly back too my abode, with a swarm of big black flies flying round my head. As a slash, I wood give it 10 out of 10 and it doesn't get any better than that.
Chuck Corona and me lay on the Harry COrry sofa, like Jordan and Peter. I was nibbling like a goat at Chuck's camel hare gansey. Deer Chuck was munching at a mouthful of brandy balls, I marvelled at the way his pox-marked cheeks stood out like a chimpmonk.
"Chuckie" I cooed "What are you thinking?" Chuck broke wind like Concorde and said
"Tis thinking I am" said he "Of how lucky I am. "here I am" said Chuck "A blow-in from Dublin and low and behold, I have fallen in love with the most beautiful woman, this side of the Pecos".
"Oh you doat" I shrieked, leaping on him like a hysterical, deranged wombat.
Chuck's chair topped and he fell on the coal bucket, where he received a nasty gash on his head from the coal shovel. The cut bled like hell but it did knot require stitches, I bound Chuck;s head with my auld burgundy simmet, deer Chuck looked so cute, just like a hippy.
Then, my sun Bon Jovi stormed in like the German army, "Mammy" he roared "You have hurted Chuck Corona again. you should be gentle with Chuck" said the cub "He's knot as big as you and yet you keep leaping on him like a big hallion" "Me, a hallion?" I ejaculated, "I wool have you no boy, that my teechers said I exempfied-petitness" "That was then" roared Bon Jovi "In the intrem you have grown up into a a big hallion and a big gulpin"
In the konfusion, Chuck made his escape, with the blood running down his camel-hare gansey.
"Go two your bed you big headed gulpin" I roared. "Shut your big yapper of a mouth" yelled Bon Jovi--then the clock struck ate and the cub and me knelt down too say the rosary.
Does knot the good book say-"The family that preys together, stays together.
ME? a hallion? the boy gests surely.

Tuesday, 27 May 2008


I was sitting in front of my suit-stained abode, on a rusty, upturned zinz bucket. I was arrayed in Duke's of Hazard overalls, with wan strap hanging down. My lusturious mass of red hare was tied in a bun with wan of Bon Jovi's skool ties. I was wearing my favourite gansey, the Israelia army wan, with, "We Shall Knot Be Moved" rote on the back in Hebrew. My splayed feet were naked, my sturdy hob-nailed boots lay beside the collected works of Proust, Sarte and Jeffrey Archer.
I glanced down demurely at my legs, what sturdy, blew-veined vechiles of convenence and transport them were. I wiggled my toes and smiled mysterially, like the Mone Lisa's good looking sister. I felt--senrene, I was a konfident, modern day woman, stuffed two the throat with boiled badger. The world was my lobster, there was nothing I could knot do. I blue my nose with my fingers and lashed the clinging,transparent snotter into the nettles. I thought of a musical key--Aflat and broke wind in it, pitch perfect.
I raised my slender, maidenly, girlish arms in the heir and yelled,
"I am Rosie, I am woman, I am mother, I am lover, and yet, my grate beauty and demurness is talked about, where gay, debutantes meet two talk about beauty and demurness and dance the nite away, with the charlston or flappers flap two the black bottom
Suddenly, threw the gun metal blueness of the bog, I saw my lover approach. Chuck Corona, ex of the Garda She-kona, raced out of Dublin, with the stench of corruption hanging 'oer him and suspician of fraud, hanging round his bull neck like a veritable albatross. But my Chuck is innocent, he wuz framed and stitched up like a kipper
I watched deer Chuck stride manfully through the thigh Hi rushes, Every-thyme one of his little legs moved, he scent up a cloud of spores, that danced in the son and carried a rare, fragrant, musky sent over the blew-heathered bog. Everything about Chuck oozed-sex, from his squat, round, cannonball head,his sloped, round shoulders, the sexual curve of his pot belly hanging over his belt and his too sturdy wee legs like what you wood see on a Heraford bull.
I jumped too my feet, with genteel, decorm and ran two meet him, what a site we must have bean, too young lovers, running in slow motion, the maid attired in blew Duke's of Hazard overalls and her bow, dressed in a lovely magenta vee-necked pillover and a pear of harris tweed trousers, with the fork seductively and tantilisly decorated with pleats.
We thundered into each other, like too mating hippo's, I crushed my maidenly bisum two his manly chest, we held each other tite, I could feel the packet of peppermints in Chuck's trouser pocket. We kissed, drool merged with drool and ran down our young love bird chins.
Chuck probed with his tongue against my protruding nashers. I grabbed too clumps of hare and wood knot let go. Chuck put his leg behind me and tried two cope me like Mick McManus.
I shrieked, wantonly and earthily, like a love lorn pole-kat. Chuck began too gansey fissle, in a very robust, yet loving way. I was lost, lost in the white hot heat of passion, I arched my swan-like neck and let hi falsetto shrieks out of me, bringing an answering call from a korn-krake in a far off field. Chuck growled, "Begorragh" I shrieked "Jeepers" Then, I came two my senses and ran away, with wildly flapping arms.
"Know Chuck" I screamed. "We must knot, I feel the eyes of the boys in the vatican on me.
If Herr Benedict hears of this, he wool issue a fatwa on both of us and we wool have two go into hiding like salamander rushdie"
Arm and arm, we walked back threw the bog, back too my tender, loving abode for too mugs of room temperature Iron Brue and the toasted heels from a pan loaf.
Ah, lamore, you shake the nerves and you rattle my bones. Goodness gracious-grate balls of fire.

If you liked this-why not go to my other blog-its different, go to
Its a bit of a mouthful, but its just, great show last week kid, rolled into one
Hope you like it. JP McMenamin.

Sunday, 25 May 2008


On Monday morning, I leaped out of bed, akin two the lark or the legandery blew-arsed fly.
I had a busy day in front of me, I was breaking in a knew pear of drawers for poor auld Camila McSlabber. The poor auld crater is 97 now, and her under-carriage has lost its fluiditity and suppleness. BOys, many a pear of drawers auld Camelia had broken in, her and her husband wee Camelot had a thriving business at wan thyme. Wee Camelot broke horses for ah'll the men and auld Camelia, broke in knew drawers for the weeman.
I remember when I was a young, female, cuttie, walking up the road on a sunny Sonday, and meeting men with unruly horses and weeman with brown-paper parcels under their oxters, kontaining wayward drawers.
The cubs used two watch auld Camelot breaking in the horses, but of course, they wern't allowed too watch auld Camelia, break in the drawers. It wood knot be rite, it wood knot be fitting and it could be dangerous, you never new where auld Camelia was going two kick her legs next.
Boys, auld Camelia, could kick, she used to kick the bonnet of her own head often.
I have my own way of breaking in drawers, I call it the Rosie Ryan triatalon method. First I don the drawers and let them no who is the boss, then I run, kicking and flinging for too miles, a mile up the road and a mile back, then, without stopping for a slash or a cup of water, I jump on the auld bike and repeat the procedure. Then, still without slashing or drinking, I spend too hours, bending, kicking, stooping and flinging. I do funny walks, I duck walk like Chuck Berry, I run, bent like Groucho Marks, then I take a run down the road, walking like John Cheese, you no the boy, with the funny walk? I then stand silently and motionless,if I feel the slightest resistance from the drawers, I wood take over the bog, like a wilderbeast, jumping shucks and bog wholes and letting, shrieks, gulders and yells out of me. After that, there was know more fight left in the drawers, I wood step daintly out of them and hurry off for a slash and a mug of water.
Later, that nite, as I partook of a gooses egg and the buttered heel of a pan loaf, I heard the frantic ringing of a bicycle bell. I harked my shell-like lug whole and heard some idjit roaring, "Have you got mammy's drawers? Is Mammy's drawers ready? Have you got mammy's drawers? The priest is coming over and mammy needs her-drawers. Have you got mammy's drawers.
It was auld Camelia's eldest sun Avana,the cub must be 70 new if hes a day. I ran out yelling, "Keep your voice down, how dare you come round here yelling about drawers, don't you no that Clougher is full of nicker nickers?" I put the drawers on the carrier and the idjit rode off yelling, "MAMMY, I've got your drawers" It was a difficult birth I heard, knot only were they at him with forceps,it took spoons, shoe-horns and a midwife pulling on a rope that they had round his ears. Hes a bit--you-no-thick. What in under God wool happen that cub when his mammy dies?
He kan barely tell his arse from his elbow. I wonder wood it be two late for a-late vocation?
The church looks after its own and I wood say, he wouldn't be two hard on the auld-penance.

Friday, 23 May 2008


An incident bee-fell me on Tuesday of the most singular signifience, I was goose stepping over the dog in a Gestapo manner, when my foot slipped on skitter and I landed in the splits position.
I heard a-RIP, had I done inrepairable damage two my under-carriage? Further intestigation revealed, that my under-carriage was intact and firing on all cylinders, but there was a large fissure in the gusset area of by drawers. "Damn them cheep Taiwain drawers" I yelled "You wood think that those six year old cutties could sew better than that".
I decided that a running repair, was called for then and now. I stepped, daintly out of drawers, like Monice Lew-insky, climbed up on the kitchen table and put my too sturdy, blew-veined legs under me, in the manner of a tailor.
I respected the drawers, quite a large crevice met my scrutising occulars. I looked at my name on the waste-band, THese drawers belong to Rosie Ryan, If found, please kontact the owner at, 13 the bog road, Clougher.
I held the drawers up and muttered, "Ah, the bloomers of a slim, fairy-like would-land sprite"
A 44 inch waste, how many women dreamed of stepping into my drawers.
After debating with myself, I decided two super-glue the tear. I sat-tailor-like on the kitchen table, my face screwed up in a gargoyle mask of konseration. My blew tongue, stuck out between my thick, red lips like a pre-historic lizard or reptile. I uttulised what lite I could from the cobwebbed window and set two work. It's nacky stuff super-glueing drawers, many a woman has come two a sticky end. It required konseration, determination and the steady hand of a surgeon.
Bit bye bit, I brought the ragged pieces of red flannel together and bound them with the super-glue. What a doctor I wood have made, doctor Rosie Ryan, I had the skill, but I didn't have the Latin.
On and on went the pane-staking work,it was akin two working with the dead see scrolls. Luckily, I had the skid mark as a reference point. Nearly finished, my matted mass of red hare was hanging round me like Maureen Oh'Hara after a good fight with John Wain.
Like George Bush, I was almost ready two proclaim, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, when kalimity struck. My sun Bon Jovi rushed in yelling "MAMMY, there's a tadpole in a bog whole with too heads". He hit the table a dunt,I-still clutching the drawers, was sceny flying two the ground, where I lay in a recrumbant position. When I gathered my wits, I found too my dismay, that the drawers were stuck fast to both my hands. I had lost the use of my upper appengages,-some hanlin'.
I cursed, I swore, I kicked the door, but the position remained just as-before.
Bon Jovi had two get the scissors and cut carefully round my hands and fingers, leaving me with too palms carpeted with red flannel. There was nothing I could do, until I went too the surgery in the morning and two make matters worse, I had too go out, too-nite was the feast day of Lucie O'Hallron, the made from Galway who refused two shave under her oxters and was burned at the steak in the ninth centuary. I had two go, saint Lucie,was the saint I preyed too, when gulpins roared, "ROSIE--may hand on your drawers".
It passed off all-rite, know wan noticed, then when I came two the door, the priest was waiting two shake us hands. "Ah, Mrs Ryan" he said "What a nice warm hand shake you have, you must be warm blooded". "I am Father" I roared "There was some talk in our family, that my grate, grate grandfather was a Sioux indian" The priest looked surprised and muttered-"How?"
"How too you too father" I roared and headed for home, pulling Bon Jovi behind me like a reluctant -orang-utan.
So ladies, my advice is-dump them when the gusset goes, they are knot fit for purpoise, only fit for dusters.

Thursday, 22 May 2008


Now that youse all no me and no who wild smart and intelligent I am from my ritings, I wood like two offer youse a "Special" service.
I wood like two set myself up as an agony ant. I have vast noledge of all things from, affaier-de-le hart, fashion, health and animal and poultry husband-derry.
So forget your inn-a-bitions, pick up computer and rite two your ant,ie Rosie.
I wool do my best two answer all queeries.
I kan assure you of Ann-ah-nimity, I wool be like your doctor or spiritual adviser.
Nothing shocks me-I am a woman of the world, I kan go too Gortin bye myself and some-thymes come home again on the same nite.

I no what most of you are thinking, she no's a quare lot about a quare lot of things. I feel I should knot horde my grate knowledge, but scatter it two the fore winds, like a boy sewing korn.
Don't be shy, Rosie won't hurt youse. I sea myself as a shi--litehouse, sending the beam of knowledge two those who are in peril.
I no some of youse has yourself worried sick about wan wee thing or another.
Now is the thyme two get it off your chest, if you have know chest, I kan help you there two, boil some dockens in kats milk and rub it on under a full moon-then-HAY PRESTO, stand back and watch them grow.
Men, deer shy men, I no ah lot of you have "under-carriage" problems. don't hide in the coal house reeding Our Boys, let Rosie help, know matter how small your problem is, I Rosie Ryan, wool endevor two rite the rongs in your under-carriage. Don't look at me as a woman, a lot of peeple in Clougher don't. Look on me as a friend, a konfident,but if you're sending fotos relating two the under-carriage, make sure you cell-a-tape the envelope.
Fashin ladies-nickers in perticular, i am steeped in knowledge relating two the drawers. Don't leave it two late, Summers coming. I wool show you how two brighten up an auld pear of red flannel drawers, using just a tin of emlusion paint and a tin opener.

So come on, get computing, you kan rite two me
That's jpmcmenamin@ gmail. com
So lets be having you, Remebmer the auld song-----
When you're down and troubled
And need a helping hand
And nothing-nuthin just works out rite
YOU HAVE A FRIEND And that friend is Rosie Ryan eeh male me at jpmcmenamin@gmail. com
I wool treat all korespondance with the most inproritory. Ah-Dew,Rosie Ryan.


I was creeping furtively round Clougher, Sin city, the sex kapital of Europe. I was trying knot two touch anything in case I picked up wan of them auld SDLP diseases.
As I swung my hob-nailed boots round a korner, who did I sea but Nellie Guano,an auld skool friend of mine. At skool she was known as, auld Nellie wet the nickers, because of her juvinile incontenence. I heer she has grown out of it, except when she lets a hi shriek of a laugh or throws her leg on a mans bicycle. I hardly new Nellie, her big, round face was as red as a tomato and her auld stringy hare was all frizzled up into a perm, that wood have looked better on a poodle.
"Ah, Rosie" she shrieked, "watch the nickers Nellie" I muttered. "Ah, Rosie, long thyme know sea" "Aye it is Nellie" I said "the last thyme I saw you, the priest was racing you out of the confessional" "Ah, sure it was all a mistake" yelled Nellie.
"Sure the poor man thought I was confessing two adultry but what I said was-idolatry, since Gunter my husband bought me that wee brass Budda, I had took two preying two it". "And what did the priest say when he found out?" says I. "Ah, sure he laughed" said Nellie and said "its always a good idea two have too horses in the race.
But wheest" said Nellie "You'll never guess where Gunter and me has bean. Gunter sold a clatter of pigs and he came in and said, "Nellie, life is for living, throw a couple of pears of drawers in a case, you and me is for America"
"America?" I ejaculated "in the name of all that;s wholly" Aye, America" smirked Nellie. "We went two Tampon, which is in Florida. Ah, its grate out there,the son, the quizene, sure we ate nothing but chips and burgers the hole thyme we were there"
"Did youse sea President Bush?" I asked. "Nah" said Nellie "But we saw Micky Mouse. But its a dangerous plaice" said Nellie. "You have two watch yourself on the toilet, just before we landed, a man was having a shi--using the toilet, and a big alley-gater popped its head up and ate the mail accouterments of him"
"Did the poor man dye?" I asked. "Nah" said Nellie, "He's in the hospital in Tampon, getting spastic surgery".
"Ah, Tampon wouldn't be for me" I said "Give me a weak in Bundoran, plenty two eat, plenty two drink and an auld run on the dodgems and know fear of alley-gaters reaching for you bye the ars--rear"
"Aye, I suppose Bundoran is all you could afford" said Nellie, and the sun glinting of her big, red bleezer of a face. Me and Gunter has the pigs two fall back on, but all you have is a couple of scrawny hens, with cobwebs over their arse, its bean so long since they layed"
I bridled, bristled and blustered, "Get too hell" I guldered, !Who do you think you are, with your Florida and Tampons? You're nothing but a piss pot" I roared. "You haven't a dry pear of drawers in the house. Take thay big edigt Gunter and go and stay in America for all I care. Clear off out of my site" I yelled "And as far as I'm konserned, you and Gunter kan stick Tampon up youse arses"
And I flounced off in Hi dungeon full of ire anger and wild thraness.
I mellowed as I walked home threw the cunt'ry lanes,ah, the beauty of nature.
The hawthorns seemed two have net curtains thrown over them, curtains of white bloosoms. The whins were on fire, with yella, just waiting for auld Van Gogh two whip his brush out. The singing of the birds, the chirping of the crickets, the humming of the bee. Ireland, mother Ireland, where the hare runs free in the lush green lea, and silver salmon in the bright blew see.
Tampon? it's far from Tampon, auld Nellie wet the nickers was born.

Wednesday, 21 May 2008


I was sitting in front of a smoky, turf fire,my lusturios mass of matted red hare, was hanging over my face like a koffessional kurtin. My too sturdy legs were akimbo, it's a position I adapt ofen, two stop trombones forming in the veins.
I was pondering deeply, as all good ponders do,I was thinking about the roof of the cistine chapel at the Vatican, I wondered if the knew pope, hair Bededict,wood slap on a couple of coats of white, emulsion paint,it's bean quite a while since it was done up. The last boy two have a go at her was Micky Angelo,a self employed painter and decorater. I suppose we'll soon no all about it, for a clatter of envelopes will arrive to pay for the emulsion paint.
I glanced askew at my sun and air Bon Jovi, the cub was sitting playing with his cardboard box of dead vermin and rodents. If that cub doesn't grow up two be a taxi-dermist I wool eat my puce hat with the peasent feather on it.
I looked at Bon Jovi with the love only a mother could no,the cub had painted a black moustache on a deceased stoat and was trying too comb its hare in the manner of one, Hare Hitler.
I red my throat, spat half a cup of flem into the ashes and said "Bon Jovi my petite marshmallow, "Why this morbid facisation with house painter and ditactor Adolf Hitler?"
Bon Jovi glared at me with his good eye and roared, "Because Hitler wouldn't take any auld guff and I'm knot going two take any auld guff either"
"But Bon Jovi" I riposted "Hare Hitler was a bad man, he started world war too".
"Al is miss-understood" yelled Bon Jovi "He was forced into it bye auld Churchill and the other gulpins. And he had two get a wild big army, so at least you kan't say he was a-loner. The police always say that all bad boys are loners, well Hitler was know loner, he was surrounded bye the SS and the Gee-stap-oh, when I grow up I'm going two be like hitler. First Clougher--then the-WORLD" yelled the cub, jumping two his feet and shooting his arm up in the heir.
I sat there, open-mouthed with agogness,what had I spawned from my lions? Had I given birth too the aunty-Christ? Wood that cub with the dead stoat in his hand be responsible for the-
Ah-pox-ah-lips? I ran, helter-skelty for a bottle of Lourdes wholly water and threw it round the minute dictater. The Poll-Pot of Clougher began too cry and crawled into his cardboard box.
I relaxed, it was just a wain trying two be fly. Just a cub trying too show off.
I picked up Vogue and got stuck into a fashion article, apparently, the bust wool be lower this year and apricot is the knew-black.
I was intruged to reed that nickers wood soon come with a wee pocket for a mobile fone and simmets were making a come back in Hollywood.
Then I became engrossed in an article about-thrush,I have always greatly loved the speckle-chested song bird.
I red on, oblivious two the gutteral sounds of a German drinking song coming from the cardboard box and the roars of--"We have vays of making you talk. For you-old woman, zee war is over" Just a cub, playing at beeing Hitler, what could be more normal?

Monday, 19 May 2008


I stood and surveyed my andy work, twelve pears of newly washed bloomers dancing on the cloths line.It was knot easy getting them up, especiall when they are wet and heavy.
How colourfull they looked, an exotic extravagnisa, a veritable rainbow of drawers.
They brought colour and vitality two my drab cottage. My abode looked like the last outpost of the United Nations, the drawers of all nations flying in piece and harmony.
I suppose some could say that my home looked like a second-hand kar lot.
I stood with pride and looked at them, every pear of drawers I owned, were leaping and skipping the the gentle zephyr breeze that was blowing from Gortin and surrounding districts.
Little did the populance no, that I Rosie Ryan was going "commando" 'till the drawers dried.
I wood have two watch myself, know hand-stands, summer-salts or putting myself in the situitation that I mite take a cope, before I felt the reassurance of the restraining elastic round my belly-button.
I was just about too go indoors for a strong cup of tay and the buttered heel from a pan loaf, when I saw my too men coming threw the bog. 'Twas my bow, Chuck Corona and my sun Bon Jovi. "COOEEE" I cried like Mary Darling when she saw the tide turn.
Chuck and Bon Jovi were walking hand in hand, AAH, my hart swelled two brusting when I saw the too men in my life get on so well.
Bon Jovi was all excited, he was waving his arms and roaring "So I hit him a good thump on the side of the head and he went down like a bag of King Edwards"
"Good on you lad" said Chuck, "that's the plaice two hit them, behind the ear or the kidneys, I was always a kidney man myself"
The too men came up and stood admiring my drawers. "Bay God" said Chuck, There's enought elastic there too put a man on the moon"
Bon Jovi stood rubbing his chin, he looked at me with his good eye and said "do you think it's wise?" "What's wise" I guldered "What are you going on about?"
"Korrect me if i'm rong" said Bon Jovi, "you are the reciperent of Income Support or you know?"
"I am" I said "And I deserve every penny-if knot more"
"Imagine this" said Bon Jovi, "I am an Income Support boy going bye on a bicycle.
Suddenly, I sea a glut of gussets, hauld on" I say "hauld on, that woman is receiving Income Support and yet her line is virtually festooned with bloomers, something smells fishy here"
I ran like a deganged harpy, pulled seven pear of drawers off the line and replaced them with too auld gret army blankets with wholes in them.
What a cub, some-thymes I kan't believe that he sprang from my lions.
Later that nite, I plumped my slim 18stone body down on Chuck's nee and began two bite his ear. Chuck gasped and puffed like an auld accordian or the little train who couldn't.
I smiled at Chuck, flicked out my tongue like an iguna and teased him. I tickled him,chucked his Chucky chin, I groaped and pawed at him-but in a genteel, demure, ladylike way.
Chuck's squat round head was as red as a beetroot. Suddenly, he let a roar like a bull moose, I lept too my feet, Chuck tried two get up, crumpled and fell too the floor, where he rolled around holding his crutch. "Officer down" yelled Chuck "Officer down need assistance"
Bon Jovi rushed in and roared "Mammy, what have you done two Chuck Corona's fork?"
I shrieked, turned my back, brust out crying and pulled my skirt up two wipe my tears, forgetting that, below stairs I was-commando.
"Mummy" yelled Bon Jovi "put that ars bum away, this is know thyme too try and be funny"
A groin strain, the doctor said, but Chuck's knot in a plaster or anything. I wonder how it happened? He must have got up two quick, or pearhaps the fork of his trousers is two tite.
I must look into that.
Ah Lamore, you put a strain on the hart, a strain on the sole and a strain on the fork.

Sunday, 18 May 2008

All Is Dark-Yet The Lady Can Not Slumber

Too of the clock, and yet I lie abed tossing, turning, kicking and flinging. Why kan I knot sleep? Why kan I knot slumber? In desperation, frustration with know hesitation I climb out of bed. I stand there in the moon-lite,a vision of loveyness, my matted red hare hangs around my plump, round visage like Maureen Oh'Hara or Fagin. I cross the bare cement floor on naked feet, mice flea before me like veritable lemmings. I am attired in long, white Willie Winkie nite-dress.
My girlish, maidenly figure is visible two the nocternal moon beams. What is this yearning that keeps me awake? Must I pace the floor all nite like lady McBeth? I partook of baking soda before retiring, surely it kan knot be a build up of wind. I lift a plump,blew-veined leg and break wind ferociously, and yet-with decorum, finese and maidenly, girlishly gentility.
"What ales you Rosie?" I mutter. Know reply from the beauty of the nite. After breaking wind, my bouid-war is full of the perfumed sent of roasted badger. What a repast Chuck, Bon Jovi and me had last nite. It was a feast of Elizabethian perportions. And yet--I sleep knot.
I pace, repace and thrice pace the floor. Is that my shadow on yonder wall? or is it the vague outline of my inner beeing. If I dye, doth my shadow dye? and why is my shadow always bigger than me? Some many questions, so few answers.
I smile ruefully as I sea kulture klassics spread out on the floor, Proust, Sarte, Bach, Rack-man-enough, Our Boy's and Brendan Quinn. The home of a scholar surely, a burglar wood think.
HARK, the beating of wings, tis the muse, she lites on my shoulder, I feel her sented breath, a mixture of olives and sandlewood from mount Olympus. Now the raison for my wakefullness is clear, the Gods have sent the muse two whisper klassical thing-may-bobs into my shell-like lug whole.
I hurry two my desk, the upturned wheel barrow, pick up pen and await the mutterings of the muse.
MY LOVE. bye ROSIE RYAN--The Bardess of Clougher.
He walks in beauty like the nite
Wearing stone-washed genes, so snug and tite
His gansey red as the Summer rose
Red veins on, his broken nose.

Is he Appollo, with his bow?
Did Cupid send him down below?
To strike fair lady with his dart
And win-perhaps the lady's hart.

But hold hard Everard, I say
'Tis just a man, who walks my way
'Tis Chuck Corona, my wee doat
And 'tis for Chuck this poem is rote.
With a flutter of wings the muse departed. I smiled-Mona Lisa-like, broke wind with fierce verocity and leapt into bed and soon was snoring and farting, like an auld sow.
Ah, lamore--you raise the fare damson from her slumber two rite an ode too her main-squeeze.

A Grave Miss Take In The Graveyard

"Put your leg up higher" gasped Chuck my boyfriend. "Know" I ejaculted shrilly "we are on conseration ground,what if the priest seas us?" "I kan't waint" gasped Chuck, "NOw, put your other leg up-higher". "Chuck" I shrieked, "This is knot rite, I feel the eyes of the boy's in the Vatican upon us". "Now" said Chuck, "Legs akimbo and we're almost there". I shrieked, gasped, wailed and held on two Chuck like a ten pound note. "Almost there" panted Chuck "But let yourself go,don't be so stiff, could you knot get that leg a little higher?" "Chuck" I shrieked, "That limb is already up round my ear whole". "Almost there" gasped Chuck, "If I lift your left leg up just a little,yes, we're almost there, don't stop now, don't stop--AAAH"
Chuck and me rolled in the grass like too pot-bellied pigs, we were utterly spent, Chuck was panting like an auld mongerl dog, I was gasping like a fish that had been snatched from the H2O.
BUt it was over, we had climbed the cemetary wall into the graveyard. I had a boo-K of panseys and dandy-lions two lay on my parents grave
We made our way threw the long grass too the resting plaice of my kin folk. Deer mummy and daddy, the man and woman who had come together and stamped their likeness on me. Pappa and Momma, mater and pater, the auld doll and the auld boy,there they lay under the clay, united in death as they never had bean in life. THrew sexual kongress, they had brought forth a girl child and Lo-named her-Rosie
I remember deer momma and pappa well,how ugly they were, what miricale had preordained that they would give birth two a sprog, with the grate beauty, poise and grace, like what I have. Was I a "changeling? a fairy child? THat could account for my grate affliction for black-thorn trees and toad-stools.I placed the boo-K of flowers in the nettles that covered my parents and said. "DArling mummy, deerest daddy, I wood like two interduce you two my boyfriend, Chuck Corona from the 36 counties. I love him, I have given my hart two him and he has recapitulated my love" Chuck stood with his tartan Tan-A chanter in his hand as I solemnly intoned-
Dominus noster, flagrante delicto,gemutlichkeit and Erin go bragh" Then we crept away, to let tham molder and decompose in peace.
Alas-and indeed-alac, kalimity struck as we made our way back over the graveyard wall,I was straddling said wall, legs akimbo when I slipped and fell into an open grave.CHuck took two his heels, I roared,yelled and guldered like a constipated donkey. THen-hark, footsteps approached, I looked up and there was the parish priest looking down at me. "Ah, Mrs Ryan" he said "Know wan told me you had dyed. Get out of there two hell" he roared "And don't be squatting in a grave that provided for shelter and privacy of the deceased. Get home two hell" he guldered. "Or you wool feel my rightuous boot up the arse and if I see you squatting in graves again, I wool tell the Bishop and he wool excrementum you" I slung off into the nite, full of shame loathing and self disgust. I felt like--luther or Sun of SAm.
"Bless me father for I have sinned" I guldered, as I galloped threw the whins like a veritable wilderbeast. THat nite I fell on my nees and preted long and hard two saint Gunter, the patron saint of people who fall into graves. May a culpa, may a culpa, may a wild big max-a-may culpa.

Friday, 16 May 2008

Auld Nellie Has Popped Her Clogs

Chuck and me had recourse two go two a wake on Monday nite, the recipient was auld Nellie McZither. Auld Nellie had knot bean ailing and was only 94,needless two say suspicious looks ing directed at the medical profession. The house was wild dark,the only lite coming from candles. I groaped my way in and found a dead cadaver lying in a bed. Their lay the imoral remains of auld Nellie MvZither. Her red bloomers still hung from the bed post, I wondered who wood get them now. I gazed at her and thought,so this is death, this is what awaits us at the end of life,if we live that long. She looked--serene and wild dead. All worry had left her face,The hares on the mole on her chin were at piece and knot jutting out like aerials. Her eyes were closed, never two open again. Her lips were shut, never again wood they roar out, "Barney, a hot Powers for the woman in the snug, are I'll come out and brust you"
All worry, all toil was over,she could rest now, rest with the Lord and the heavenly choir.
Suddenly it was two much for me, I broke down, I filled my lungs like a basking whale and oared. "Ah Nellie, Nellie, Nellie, why did you dye and leave those who loved you, falorn,sad and stuffed two the throat with grief?" I nearly shi--dyed myself when the woman in the bed sprung up and roared, "What are you guldering about, you big gulpin? my sister, dead Nellie is in the next room" I had clean forgot about Nellie's twin sister Avril, who was over from Ingland for the funeral.I felt an approach of the vapours, I swooned, but I did knot go down like a sack of spuds, I crumpled, gracefully,with decorm and finese. Chuck caught me under the oxters and dragged me out, you kan still sea the marks of my heels on the concrete floor. Deer Chuck loosed my cloathing, a group of alter-eaters going into the wake said, "Look at that, he kan't wait two get her home and a dead, deseased body lying in the back parlour" "GET BACK" yelled Chuck "Give her air" "I'll give her my tow up the arse" said a man, who looked remarkability like the knew curate.
I staggered bravely two my feet and made my way home with Chuck bye my side. "Ah, death" I cried "Where is thy sting?" then I gave my arm a Shakespeare flourish and stung the hand of myself in a clump of nettles.
Later and anon, Chuck and me slipped into a hey shed, I have always noticed that wakes and funerals, make peeple want to procreate. I suppose its natures way, popped clogs must be filled.
After much groaping and robust gansey fisslin' Chuck and I emerged with smiles on us feces.LIfe has too go on, many a hey shed auld Nellie had bean in, with a smile on her face and a noggin of whiskey up the leg of her drawers. I said goodbye two Nellie in my own way, I opened my gub and silenced howls, nite-in-gales and mating badgers,stoats and foxes with a rousing verse of,
"NEllie, Nellie, pimples on your belly and now you're lying dead". I ended with a gulder that brough leaves from the trees and walked home with Chuck, with genteel decorm and lady-like kicks and flings of my hob-nailed boots
Deer Chuck broke wind and it sounded so sad, so sad,twas the last post for poor auld-Nellie
REST IN PIECE, dominus de morte and volkerwanderung. AGe shall knot wither her, know, life did that.

Thursday, 15 May 2008


Wednesday of last weak was Chuck's and me first inniversity. It was a year since the first thyme we went out. Deer Chuck took me out two celebrate the unniversity,he took me two the Duck and Weasel in Plumbridge. Its some plaic, you should sea it, all koncealed lighting and blew water in the bog. I was all dolled up in my good green frock, with the yella butterflies on it,in loo of handbag,I had Bon Jovi's Kar-Key skoolbag casually over my shoulder. Me turned some heads, Chuck was wearing a wild tite pear of "Dodge City" stone-washed genes and a lovely vivid,duck egg blew gansey with a foto of Charles Manson on the front.He looked--immaculate.
The meel was sumpusous, I don't know what it was, but I'll swear it was knot road kill. We had vegetables in all shapes and colours,the gravy was brown, but did knot appear two be Bisto, the spuds balls of flower and appeared two come from a foreign domain.
Deer Chuck clasped my hand and said "Rosie my love, hapy unniversity,you have made me the happiest man alive or dead" "Oh Chuck" I gushed "Before I met you I were nothing, nothing, do you heer me? I were a wretched varmit but you Chuck Corona, have opened the door of my hart and suppressed passion has brust out like guts out of a slaughered pig"
Chuck smiled at me and said, in honour of the occassion, you must have a cock-tail" "I told Chuck two keep his voice down or we wood be thrown out. When Chuck explained that a cock-tail is a mixxy-up drink,I gave a Hi genteel, demure, after dinner shriek and yelled, "Then you choose my love, my knowledge of cock-tails is restricted two the farmyard"
Chuck got me a flem-de-la-flem,it was green and gooey but I put her two my head. After a while I got a little tiddly and played footsie under the table with deer Chuck. I carressed his lite tan Hush Puppies with my jet black, newly half-soled, "Irish NAvvy" hob-nailed boots.
Then I got reagelly up two go too the crapper,all eyes were on me, as I SAUNTERED LIKE kATE mOSS with the kar-kee shoolbag swinging. Some boy roared out, "Hi, go home and do your homework" I laughed shrilly, cooed "Oh you" and hit him a thump up the gub.
On the way back home in the Skoda, Chuck whipped out--know, it was a too litre bottle of Iron Brue and a big bag of cheese and onion crisps. Chuck slipped in a DC of BArry White, as the big gulpin began two sing, I felt my hart race and spasoms shooting up my rite nee.
All was lost--utterely lost, when the big brute began two gulder, "YOu're my first, you're my last, you're my everything"
Ah-lamore, you flutter the tendrils of my passion and unlease the hounds of lust.

Wednesday, 14 May 2008

bon jovi makes an intervention

Hello, its me, Bon Jovi Ryan, so it is. Mammy is out gall-ah-vanting with Chuck Corona, they went down two the river. I don't no what they are doing, and frankly my deer, I don't give a damn. Ha-ha-ha-I like saying bad words like bum and ass.
When mummy was away, I thought I wood get stuck into the comsputer. I learned how too work a comsputer at skool. I also learnt how two pull pigs girl tales. Know-I mean-I learmnt how two pull girls pig tales. Some-thymes I get words mixed up but mammy doesn't think I am retarted.
I wish it was the skool holly-daze, I could do with a good rest. Its all GO being a cub you no. I wish I was growed up like the fly korner boys in Clougher. I wood stand in my designer dungerees, with a fag in my mouth and roar wild funny things like--Hi, does your mother no you're out? and Hi, you're back wheel is going round. That's what the fly clougher boys do, so it is. My ambition is two be a fly Clougher boy.
I wonder where this thing with Chuck Corona and mammy is going. Wool he be my knew daddy? I'm knot sure what I think of him, some thymes he seems all rite and some0thymes he seems two be a cute wee hoor.
Any-a-way he is getting older and I am getting stronger, so its only a matter of thyme before I kan whammle him. And whammle him I wool, if I think he deserves a good whammling.
I sea them coming now, clinging on two each other like too auld gulpins. Mammy's face is bleezing and Chuck has a big, green grass stain on the arse of his lovat trousers.
I have my suspicions about them two, but so far, nothing irreproductibe,tangible or irrefragable.
I must go or mammy wool warm my lugs, even though I sprang from her lions and it takes this yoke a while two turn itself off.
Cherioo-for now from-master Bon Jovi Ryan. I won't put any kisses, its sissy.

A TAil Of Al-Fresco Incontience

Chuck Corona my boyfriend and me, were strolling hand and hand by the river.Silver trouts leaped athletically at the bewitching, dancing may flies. Swallows darted like figher planes through the blew, azure sky. Swooping and cheaping, darting and eating small black flies by the beak full.FAr away the blew hills,vallets of buttercups, blew-bells dandy-lions, commonly called, pish the bed.I held Chuck's hand tightly and sang in a Hi falsetto shriek, "Come into the garden Maud, the bat black nite has flown, come into the garden Maud, for your dog I have got a bone"
Chuck smiled at me and said, "Bay God Rosie, you wood give the banshee a run for her money". I smiled demurly, fissled at my cuecumber green gansey and kicked a boulder with my sparkling hob-nailed boot. Chuck leered at me and said, Bay God Rosie, you have the beauty of Bridget Bardo and the grace of a whippet". My round, moon face blushed girlishly, I gave a leap like a bally dancer on Red Bull and pir-u-etted into the rushes, with grace, poise and wild abandon.
Suddenly, I saw a cloud pass over the visage of my beloved. "What is it my deer?" I purred.
huck looked at me boyishly and said "I'm fair brusting for a pee" "Chuck" I chided "Surly our love has reached a state of intimacy where you kan feel free two relieve yourself in my presants. It certaintly has for me" I said "I wood have know quams about doing a dump in front of you. Don't be shy" I smiled "Its only me-Rosie, noiw don't be a big girls blouse and point percy at the porcelain" "Bay God I wool" yelled Chuck and his hands moved two the fork of his cargo pants. In his haste and konfusion,deer Chuck was unable to find the rite zip. Zips were un-zipped with frantic haste,the sound of the opening zips brought a mating cry from a korn-crake in the long grass. I looked at Chuck and saw a damp patch spread over the fork of his olive green cargo pants. Deer Chuck stood there,with a zip in his hand and a look of horror on his rugged, pox-marked face. I ran to him. "Chuck" I cried "DOn't be embaressed,sure you have pissed your trousers and the sting of chlorine is bringing tears too my eyes but I still love you and I always will.DId you think I was so shallow as two let a wet fork come between us? Bide now my deer, While I squat behind yonder standing stone for a slash". When I came out, rubbing my hands on a docken deer Chuck had recompossed himself. I took his arm and we went off into the sonset, with me singing lustly "The Red Flannel Drawers That Maggie wore" complete with whoops, shrieks and demure, maidely, girlish gulders. Ah, two pee or knot two pee-that is the question.
I am-ROSIE-look on my grate beauty and despair

Tuesday, 13 May 2008

a day in the life of rosie ryan

Phew-what a scorcher two-day was,I jettisoned most of my cloths, including the three vests that my mammy stole while on a pilgrimage to Nock.I kan still sea deer mummy smiling and saying "It was a miracle I got away with it" What a mummy she was, as honest as the day is short.
As the Son, the big throbbing orb in the sky, scent down life-giving warmth and cancer, I skipped gaily like a would-land sprite, wearing nickers and simmet. I jumped, I leaped, my matted mass of red hare,tied back with a length of rope.
Venus,the God of love was leaping and skipping in a bog outside the city limits of Clougher.
But alas, my grate beauty drew unwanted attention. Numerous were the drivers who rolled down the winda and yelled out.---"ROSIE-may hand on your drawers" "If I thought your hands were on my drawers I wood burn them" I shrieked demurly.BUt this became tiresome, so I just ajusted my riposte two a genteel gulder of "PISS OFF."
I new most of the bawdy gulpins but it was disconcerning too see the PSNI and the priest among them.
My sun Bon Jovi was gambling about in a large nappy. I marvelled at my suns fiz-eek, his big, head, thick nech, matted back of hare and his protruding pot belly. THere was a cub built for survival. If the oil ran out and the price of pan loaves went threw the roof, that cub could mutate into a cannibal before you could say "Fats Domino" When the Ah-pox-ah-lips came BOn Jovi wool be left standing on burnt and blackened hill wondering where everybody has gone.
What a cub and too think they sprang from my lions.
In the evening, BOn Jovi and me began two play a game called, jump over the rusty bicycle. Over and back we went like two athletic wilderbeast. "Begorragh" roared Bon Jovi "We should be in Bee-jing at the olympic games". Then-kalimity, my foot caught on the handle bars and I went flying arse over tit. I cut my nee, a good deep cut but it did knot require stitches.
As the son sinks in the West, I leave you with the picture of mother and child in the garden-the garden of Eden. THrowing stones at birds and giving VEE signs two passersbye.
As Lou Reed says, "WhAT A DAY. I am Rosie, mother of Bon Jovi. xxx and remember, if the son gets two hot-stay in the shed. 'Till the next thyme

Monday, 12 May 2008

The doctors dilema

Yesterday I had intercourse two go to the doctor. It was "woman's trouble" The hare on my chin was growing like a nanny goat. I stripped two the pelt and scrubbed my Greek godess body with lifeboy soap,taking special care under the oxters. I changed into fresh simmet and drawers, a matching combination in a lovely gooseberrry green colour. I combed my matted mass of red hare 'till it shone like a golden spaniel. FIxing woolen bonnet at jaunty angle I sallied forth to sea the MD.
There was a big crowd in the surgical, coughing and sneezing like be-damned. I went up two the deceptionist and said, "Hello cuttie, I have an annointment two sea the doctor". She looked at her comsputer and said, "Ah yes, you are the woman with the beard". "Keep your voice down" I roared "I don't want every wan no'ing my business, Just imagine if I was suffering from a venerable disease like, synthesis or gondola" "And are you?" said the cuttie,reaching for a pear of rubber gloves and looking at me with disgust. "KNow" I roared "I have never bean se insulted,I am a God feering woman, Rosie Ryan is know tramp, I am Rosie, a virulent woman"

When I got into the surgery the doctor had his back to me, "You no the drill" said the dirty auld brute, drop them and jump up on the couch". What if I had bean the man into reed the electric meter? I lay on the couch like a dead cadaver with my nees pulled up.THe doctor gave me some going over, he came at me with torches, probes, screwdrivers and even a lolly-pop stick.
Then he looked at me and said "Your body is full of testosterone,the chief mail sex horror-moan,are you a weight lifter or are you taking stair-rods two turn you into a man?" I erupted from the couch like sa Tasmanian devil and roared, "Listen boy, I am a 100% female,I reed Mills and Boon and cry at weddings" "Well" said the doctor, rubbing his chin, testosterone has entered
your body in some form or other,what do you eat? what is your diet?" "Pan loaves" I roared "Oven chips and any road kill I find squashed on the roads".
"I'm going to give you a big dose of oestrogen,the female sex horror-mone but you wool experience some side effects" said the doctor. "What wool the side effectsbe?2 I asked.
"Well" said the doctor "In thyme you wool start to look like a woman, you may find you cry easy and have bother parking a kar, or in your case a wheel barrow". I grabbed the subscription he rote for me and stamped out. "Oh just wan thing" cried the doctor. "What is it now?" I roared. "Don't forget your gooseberry green drawers" laughed the doctor. I grabbed the drawers, stuffed them under the oxter and flounced out, as I walked threw the surgery the deceptinist yelled out, "Good bye hirsute lady, I hope you turn into a woman again soon".
I gritted my teeth, kicked a boy with a broken ankle and sent off for home full of wrath and destrustedness. Me a man? The pride of Clougher and surrounding districts? THe Cleopatra of the bog? I filled my pockets with stones and pelted every stray dog I scene,as I flounced, lady-like through natur
es flora and fuana. Then the bad mood left

Sunday, 11 May 2008

meet the cub who sprung from my lions

I watched with Mother's Pride my sun Bon Jovi come lumbering threw the bog from skool like the last wilderbeast on the grate migration. I ran, Mary Poppin's like two meet him and cried "Home is the sailor home from the sea and the scolar home from the skool" I kissed my first born on top of his big'cannon-ball head and said "And what subject did youse get stuck into too-day by bon a-me?" Bon Jovi kicked a sun bathing frog and roared "The teecher told us about auld Nero the roaming boy, who set fire two Rome and then sat playing the fiddle" "And did the teecher come up with any reason for the Emporers erratic behaviour?" I asked. Bon Jovi squinted into the setting son and said "He was mad, mad as a hatter, out two lunch,gone in the noggin and knot compes mentos". "And what punishment befell the fiddling wretch?" I asked. "Nothing" roared BOn Jovi, "Zilch, diddly squat, he was the ruler of Rome, so he could set a match two her if he liked" "Well, I'll be jiggered" I ejuclated, "Thank God there is no Nero's in Clougher, but mind you, auld ZAntec McRiddler is getting beyond himself, I saw him yesterday directing traffic at Murphy's korner, I must have a word with the priest and konficiate his cigarette liter and matches". "I wood concur with that" said BOn JOvi, "We don't want to be burned in us bed by some auld head the ball" I looked at my sun with love and confection, what a cub and two think he sprang from my lions.

Chuck Corona came over in the afternoon, bearing gifts, a pan loaf, a pound of special mince and a pear of puce drawers he bought in the market. THe drawers are 2nds because of a wee flaw. it should say, "Hello Sailor" over the fork but these drawers say, "Hello Tailor". I shall wear them with pride and every-thyme I look at the fork, I wool thing of Chuck, the wee doat

After a good feed of stoat in a basket, oven chips and the buttered heels from pan loaves, Chuck and I sat back breaking wind in precise synchronization,which is a good barometer of how compataible we are. BOOM-BANG,with the precision of a SWiss watch. I looked at Chuck and revelled in his grate beauty, his rugged, pox-marked face, his broken nose, the way his ear stuck out like the handles on a Toby jug. THere he sprawled on my sofa,wearing a pear of Harris tweed trousers, artistically pleated round the fork, his brilliant white ankle socks, a testomomy two Daz washing powder, his tassled Clark's shoes and the piece of restistance, his lovely round-necked gansey, in a striking shade of saspberry red. What a fashion icon, the bow brommel of the free state police. I watched as his rough, gnarled hand clenched and unclenched, he was still missing the comfort and security of his well worn baton. "Chuck" I cooed, like a would pigeon, "Yes, my petite mongoose" smiled Chuck. "Kiss me Chuck" I said "Kiss me like what I've never bean kissed before". Chuck roused himself from the sofa, with a veritable fusillade of wind breaking and literally leaped on me like a deranged aunt-eater. HIs thick, sensual lips bore down on mine,squashing my rose bud lips against my protruding nashers. I clasped him two me like a bail of hey, I could smell the suculent stoat on his panting breath. I was-lost, lost in the moment,my ears were as red as a turkey, I kicked madly and wantonly with my hob-nailed boots. We teetered on the edge of the precipise and tumbled over like too kats tied in a bag. Later, as Chuck sat smoking and I rearranged my nut brown gansey my sun BOn Jovi marched in like a Nazi storm trooper. He glared at Chuck and roared, "Chuck Corona, you're worser that auld Nero, you're going too burn the house down, get out two hell and smoke that fag behind the turf stack". I lay there subline like an eel and muttured. "Ah love, naught kan put your fire out,if it is destined and preordained that I must be the eternal city--then burn on, burn on whip out your fiddle and serenade me as I lie here smouldering.

But remember children don't try this at home

Rosie's thought for the day

Getting into drawers in the morning kan be quite difficult, especiall if one has been bluttered the nite before, here are some tips that mite help ladies to don the under-garment known as-drawers
A. Lay in bed, or pile of coats behind the door in my case, bend down and place drawers over feet, making sure that gusset is the rite way up, slowly work drawers up sturdy, blew veined legs, take a rest when you come to hips. Now, and this is the difficult part, ease up on wan hip, this will probably lead to a loud breaking of wind,ignore interuption, slide drawers under wan plump, wrinkled hip, take another rest and repeat the procedure with other hip,once again ignore any recrual interuptions or explosions, its just your suggestive system shifting the ballast.Sit up in bed, lean forward as far as you kan and wrestle drawers round waste, once again, ignoring all disruptions from the rear. Your drawers are now on and you can leap out of bed, like a blew-arsed fly and face the anything the day kan throw at you. give yourself a klap on the back and make strong cup of tay with plenty of sugar.

B. This thyme you climb out of bed and stand in the nudie,Hold drawers firmly with finger and thumb, first making sure that gusset is facing out. Now comes the difficult part, you must stand on wan leg, but two do so, wool probably bring on a case of the head-staggers. The answer is to lean at a 15%angle on a firm surface eg wall or door. Lift left leg slowly, always being aware that this wool cause eruptions from the rear, ignore them, keep your head. Now holding drawers in the afore said manner, bend over and slip wan trembling foot into the dangling leg of the drawers. Grate caution is required here, this is where so many ladies get their nickers in a twist. If heel catches on leg of drawers, shake it loose,still ignoring explosions from the rear. Stand upright and breathe deeply, those little black spots in front of your eyes is simply a sign of Hi blood pressure. When you have reposed yourself, repeat action with other leg. Rest with drawers hanging below the hips. Then, take a deep breath and haul resisting drawers over plump, mottled hips. VOILE your drawers are on, NOw you can face the day with konfidence, safe in the knowledge, that your under-carriage is protected by a stout double gusset. Smile, you are as safe as FOrt Nox.

C. If you have a partner or signifient other, why knot enlist their help in the drawers opperation. THis kan be done it too ways. YOu kan lean against your parter as you wrestle fiercly with drawers, PS it is a good iden two warn him first about the rectal explosions. If he is the nervour type, then this method is knot for you.
If you no your parter well,why knot let him put on the drawers, all you have two do is leer sultry and lift leg as directed. A word of caution here, never let a man with a molile fone anywhere near your under-carriage, or you could end up on U-tube.

WEll ladies, I hope that was helpfull,my words of whisdom come from years of struggling with drawers.THen wan day, I sat down, put crayon too paper and came up with this little self help guide.IF you follow my advice,you wool save many minutes in the morning, minutes you could spend on lady-like things, like talking about flaky pastery, twin-sets or petting little kittnes, as you go forraging for wild flowers in the cunt'ry side.

Getting out of drawers is muck more simple, slide drawers down hips,wiggle 'till they lie around your feet, withdraw wan leg, then tos them in the air with a flip of wan tow

Monday, 5 May 2008

Who are what is Rosie Ryan?

what a hapy day this is. This is the day that the hole world wool get two no Rosie Ryan. I am a single mother with a boy child called Bon Jovi. He sprang from my lions and I love him.
I am a young girl in her late 40's. I have red hare, a red face and I usually wear red flannel drawers. My hyobbies are reeding Proust, saying things in Latin and jumping over shucks and bog wholes. My stable diet is oven chips, pan loaves and road kill.
I have a boy fried, his name is Chuck Corona, late of the Garda She-kona in the free state. He is a wee doat and I love him like be-damned.
Gerry Anderson the broadcaster and wild smart man is my friend, I rite two GErry and he reeds the letters out on the wireless.
My favourite colour is puce. My favourite book is the bible, in the origional ARBIC AND MY FAVOURITE FILM IS, lAUREL AND HARDY. THey make me laugh 'till I pee myself.
I don't pee myself often but I do when I watch, Laurel and Hardy. Why that should be???? I do knot know.
My favourite singer is Pappa-rotty and the late, deseased and dead, Edith Pee-if. SHe was called The Little Sparrow, because they couldn't keep her away from bird tables.
I live in a bog outsi8de Clougher, a city of sin, debauchery,depravity and auld sexy things after the pubs close at nite.
I study at the open universary, which means I reed books out in the garden. I sit on a tractor tire and ruminate on the grate works of Rembrant, Piscasso, Proust and the boy from Gortin who designed Clougher 's sewage works. I don't no who nhe was but he had his head screwed on. Well, I must away, Bon Jovi wool soon be in from skool and I wool have two change his wet throuers and prepare too buttered heels of a pan loaf. Join me again and I wool discuss chemistry, sinus and how two tell by a hens SQUACK if it has layed or knot.
TIll then, its goodbye from you and goodbye from me.
Mrs Rosie Ryan. The pride of Clougher and surrounding Districts.
And remember what Nero the roamin' boy with the short toga said."Alea jacta est" which is Latinese for,Keep her lit. XXX