ALLAH be with you Gerry
I, Rosie Ryan am calling for Sharia law to be interduced in Clougher and surrounding districts.
I kan take know more of the lewd, obscene shennigans that go on under the duvet of darkness.
I am taking a stand.
Up with this I shall knot put!!!.
I wool knot rear my son Jovi Jovi on the out-skirts of a town filled to the brim and over-flowing with depravity and debauchery.
Clougher may revel in the name, "Sin City, but knot I.
Knot Rosie Ryan. People are queueing up at nite to get into the rural hay sheds.
And its knot just the young.
Auld Bebo McFloater and Casandra McTiddler were scene stumbling out of Murphy's hay shed at fore oh clock in the morning.
Auld Casandra was hanging like a wet dishcloth over a zimmer frame and auld Bebo pulling a tank of oxygeon behind him.
Auld Casandra was shaking that much she ran her zimmer frame into a shuck and auld Bebo was gasping and panting like a frog with Ass-Ma.
What diabolic, depraved, Roman orgy must have gone on in cattle food containment unit.
Under my Sharia regime, anyone found kissing, hugging, groping, or holding hands will be tied to the chapel gates and get a damn good pubic flogging.
At nite you kan heer the sin birds come home to roost in Clougher.
Golden calves abound, as doe's totem poles and craven imagies of Peter Stringfellow and auld Hugh Heffner.
I have rote to the Al-Shabab boys in Somalia and am eagery awaiting a konsigment of whips, thumb screws and big, sharp swords.
Clougher is lucky to have an abundance of stones for dealing out justice to harlots and sex mechanics.
Oh, a smiting is coming.
I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes.
FILTH! A cloud of black, vile, Satanic filth hangs over Clougher, blotting out the son and giving free rain to the devotees of the bearded God Pan and his halluciogenic, haunting pipe music.
Is there nothing us God fearing people kan do?
We must be villagant.
We must fast until our drawers fall off our emaciated bodies.
We must do good works and reject the pomps of the devil.
When you come on a pomp, reject it!
We must knot suffer a witch, or strumpet to live.
An eye for an eye, an ear for an ear.
And PREY! Prey until the skin falls of your knees and black dots dance in front of your eyes.
Pick up your staff, gird your lions and follow me, Rosie Ryan, the Joan of Arc of Clougher as I fight the good fight against the devil and his horny imps.
The fact that I was scene coming out of a hey shed on Sunday nite is a damn kalamity on my good character.
I was brusting and went into the hey shed for a good slash.
Fight the good fight with,