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- Me, Myself, and I
- Bebo is for girls...
- Oxegen (10th July...my birthday)
- Pearl Jam (18th Aug)
- Good Music
- Reaching the legal drinking age
Not so good...
- Coming home to find people have let themselves inside your locked house?
- Shit Music that people think is good
- Boring people
- Ignorant people
- Stupid people
- Just people in general
**Naomh Breandan Abú!
-------------///--------- R.I.P. SPOH
-----------///------------ gone but never
- The Other Half Of Me
she makes her own jewellery... what a tramp
- shes not cool at all
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To say he's our McAnallen would only be a start,
He touched every single one of us right to the heart.
He'd never let you down and always would be there,
Sometimes it would be with his hamstring in the air.
He loves the GAA and regularly would be seen,
At the famous Fr. Maginn - our vey own field of dreams.
Bidding on E-Bay will never be the same,
Whether its iPods, Mobiles or playstation games.
He was a fashion guru, or as he'd like to think,
Though after Bobo lay on them, most of them would stink.
His passing is a tragedy and he surely will be missed,
Especially in his local, where we would see him........drinking.
We all loved you dearly, of that there is no doubt,
And why God called you to his side, we may never figure out.
We really can't believe it and it still seems like a dream,
But God must need a captain for his heavenly football team.
To all his family each in front of us and all sitting here,
You know he's looking down, please shed no more tears.
I can't say anymore and must come to an end,
But i think its fair to say- SPOH, U WERE EVERYONES BEST FRIEND
Rest In Peace
missin u everyday big lad
0 Comments 304 weeks
1 A nice bit of ham.
2 Buttered biscuits.
3 Diggin Houles.
4 Saying its too cold to snow
6 Tayto Cheese & Onion
8 A stretch in the evenings
11 Pretending to like Holy Week.
12 A dinner dance
13 Gettin clattered in muck.
14 Shania Twain.
16 Spittin in their hands before doing anything manual
17 Steel toe caps.
18 A big bowl of carrots & parsnips.
19 Eating sangwiches out of the boot of a car at GAA
20 Saying someones 'Opened a Book' on something.
21 The smell of fresh dung.
22 Slice-Your-Own Loaf.
23 Work Clothes
24 A bottle of mineral.
26 Puttin on a ganzee to stop them from bein foundered
27 'The' Hurling/Fitball. Aka "Bogball"
28 Being overweight.
29 Weemin wha resemble Hefers.
30 Saying "Aaah" after taking their first sup of tae.
31 Drink driving.
32 Red diesel
33 The Fear of Change.
34 A nice bit of Barnbrac
36 Building walls.
37 Being starved with the cold rather than with a lack of food
38 Pretending to like mass
39 Talking about shite like Flax and the Corncrake.
40 A good blackthorn walkin stick.
41 Shouting 'Yeeeeeoooo' when something good happens.
42 Mohammed Ali.
44 Strange uppy-downy walks.
45 A good f**kin read of Irelands Own.
46 Gelling their 1cm fringe tight to their forehead.
47 Scandal, as long as its about other people.
48 Turf, because Sentirl heatin's for weemin.
49 Soda farls.
50 Sponge 'n Custirt
51 Newmerica', and anything to do with it.
52 Givin the dog the wildest baytins.
53 Givin the wife the wildest baytins.
55 Winning a leg of lamb in a raffle.
56 Wrecking the house whilst steaming.
57 Club Orange
58 Rubbing their hands together before tucking into their dinner
59 The Foot & Mouth.
60 Aetin' a big feed of spuds.
61 TK Red Lemonade
62 The RA
63 Always saying how big a kip Dublin is, when really they thank god every morning for giving at least one part of the country a gene pool worth
0 Comments 304 weeks
Goalie - must have 'great goalmouth presence'.... which is secret code for being fat enough to have his own gravitational pull. Always in the 40-50 age bracket, this is a gent that will almost convince you that he played minor for the county in goal, even though the last time he got his knees dirty diving was at a ceili in 1965 when his version of the Hucklebuck went out of control, with numerous casualties.
Right corner back - the quiet man of the line-up he seems to escape the jokes in the dressing-room just because no-one has ever seen him angry and are afraid of hidden depths. Unmarried farmer with severe emotional baggage. Contact with a woman consists of the handshake at mass on a Sunday morning.
Full back - First started playing hurling some time in the Pleistocene Epoch. Nicknamed Sledge like "yer man outta U2". Will get a nose-bleed if he passes beyond his own 50 yard line. Utterly, utterly useless and yet is a great hit with the fans. Quite likes the smell of blood.
Left corner back - Has all the hurlinging skills of a piece of cheese and yet has been known to disappear up corner-forward's arses for days on end. An absolute cast-iron guarantee to be made mark the other team's young and absurdly fast superstar in the making.
Right half back - just out of minor, this boyo is sadly not going to get anywhere near the senior team... and yet hasn't missed a training session since early 1989. Selection is basically the manager's way of proving that he "doesn't give a damn who you are, if you're not down training we're not going to give you a game".
Centre back - disgruntled former senior player, tried to remove senior manager at agm and now has about as much chance of playing senior as he does of playing Hamlet in the Globe. Hasn't been junior training all year and is still absolutely guaranteed his spot on the team.
Left half back - county u-16 star, great white hope for the entire club. About 5 foot 4, he is still told to get under the kickouts and 'take the game to the opposition'... secret code for don't pass it to anyone unless your life is in serious danger.
midfielder - chronic alcoholic who last scored a point in the late 70s and yet reckons he is justified in having a go for a point from anywhere inside the opposition's half. Well-liked character because he always gets his round in at the post-match piss-up.
midfielder - the full back's older brother, who sports a rather strange looking bandage on his knee - probably hiding teeth marks or something. Prone to making strange guttural noises every time he strains himself. Eats five dinners a day and is a prime suspect for a cornary.
Right half forward - quietly-spoken business-man who hails from the village but is living in Dublin. Drives a flash motor. Lads who live in the pub in the town don't know what to make of him "but he was an awful annoying bollox in national school".
Centre forward - third of the set of brothers that includes the full back and midfielder. Is the target of all the brother's clearances... ALL of them. Probably the local A.I. man or something... by the way that's not A.I. in the Steven Spielberg meaning of the word.
Left half forward - utterly, utterly useless 25 year old who by some fluke of nature happens to be a deadly accurate free-taker. Tries to avoid open play altogether as he is far too important to the team to get injured. Is basically the team's only source of points.
Right corner forward - happily married man who hasn't played hurling since he was 12 but has suddenly decided to take up the game again. Natural talent (like his genitalia) completely and utterly over shadowed by his beer belly. Guaranteed to bag a goal or two and gain for himself some ridiculous nickname like "Schillaci" or something.
Full forward - hasn't scored since the end of the war but is captain of the team and an all-out nut case. The line commonly quoted to excuse his complete inability to find the target is "h
0 Comments 304 weeks