These were all actually written in Irish Leaving cert essays....


She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a tumble dryer

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to
dangle from doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open
again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a
bowling ball wouldn't.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled
with vegetable soup.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric
fan set on medium.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, kinda' like, sorta, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you
fry them in hot grease

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having
left Ballina at 6:36 pm travelling at 55 mph, the other from
Claremorris 4:19pm at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the
Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had
also never met.

The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet
of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.

Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan
just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating
for while.

"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student
on 50cent-a-pint night.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a
real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine
or something.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell
butter from the "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" ad.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes
just before it throws up.

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had
ever seen before.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because
of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a
formerly surcharge-free cashpoint.

It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around
with their power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as
if she were a dustcart reversing.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was
room-temperature British beef.

Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation
thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to
the
wall.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other
sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

I’m not going to ask why you’re fighting twenty children. That’s your own business, although most reasons are as old as time itself:

1) They started it.
2) You flipped over the table while losing a Magic: The Gathering game, and damaged several rare cards.
3) They stole your woman.
4) You stole their woman.
5) You’ve had enough of their bullshit.

Follow these guidelines, and your opponents will wish they were never born 6 or 7 years ago.

Use an appropriate technique. Modern mixed martial arts are geared almost exclusively towards one on one combat, and are not designed to take on multiple tiny aggressors. As a grown adult, you could be fairly assured of absolutely destroying a 7 year old if you took him to the floor for a ground and pound. But by doing so you’d expose your back and head to his peers. Your best bet is to stay on your feet and use striking techniques. Karate is one good choice - it was originally designed in the 1600’s for use by unarmed Japanese day care workers.

Be aware of the terrain. By default, you’re going to have a height advantage against twenty children, but be sure you don’t cede it. Avoid fighting around picnic tables, monkey bars, or anything with which a particularly daring child could launch an aerial attack. The ideal situation is fighting children who are trapped in a ditch below you.

Stay mobile. Unless you’re extremely lucky and find yourself fighting twenty infants, you’re going to be at a mobility disadvantage when fighting a large group of children. You must avoid becoming surrounded at all costs. Keep moving, and always trying to position the bulk of children on one side of you. Circle, sidestep, and use tactical retreats to try and engage a single child at a time, where your reach and decades of muscular development should prove an advantage.

Speed. You want this fight to be over fast. Children have boundless amounts of energy, and you’ll tire quickly as the fight progresses. If you schedule your fights with twenty children in advance for some reason, I urge you to focus your pre-training regimen on cardiovascular conditioning and snorting eye-wateringly large amounts of cocaine.

Intimidation. Although I don’t expect you to be intimidated by the prospect of fighting twenty children - given the self-confidence that comes with maturity - remember that intimidation is a two way street. Twenty is a big number, and if that many children lose their fear of you, watch out. Use fierce roars and displays of strength to frighten the children. When taunting, remember that children are almost comically stupid, and won’t understand any of your more creative taunts. You won’t intimidate anyone if you have to explain three times specifically what you did to their mother last night.

Go for the leader first. Assuming the twenty children lack military training, they’re going to behave more like a pack of animals than a cohesive group. By default, pack animals will defer to an alpha leader, and if you manage to subdue that child, the rest of the pack will quickly lose their will to fight. In some cases the leader will be actively giving orders and therefore easy to identify. Other times they’ll be harder to pick out. In those cases, go for the tallest one, or the one with the most Pokemon on their clothing. Once the alpha child is lying in a heap, you’ve got a narrow window of intimidation open while the children regroup. I’d recommend lifting his body over your head and screaming yourself hoarse. That’s the smart veteran move.

Groin attacks. In general the crotch is a small, easily defensible target, and not typically a factor in most fights at a reasonably professional level. That said, when children are attacked by an adult, they’re rarely going to respond professionally. Again, if you have forewarning that you’ll soon be coming to blows with twenty children, absolutely wear a cup. I

1. YOUR REAL NAME:
Daniel O'Connor

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first 3 letters of surname name plus izzle)
Ocoizzle

3. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (fav color and fav animal)
The White Cat

4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, and current street name)
Christopher Crescent

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, last 3 letters of mom's maiden name)
Ocodaowe

6. YOUR SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink)
Psychedelic Jagermeister


7. YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mothers middle name)
Bridget


8. YOUR GOTH NAME: (black, and the name of one your pets)
Black Sparky


9. YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (name of your first pet (or place of birth) and mother's maiden name)
Sparky Howe