It's Friday night. Yr on the piss in town, & yr feeling a bit hungry & there's fuckin nowhere open except this f**kin shithole down the arse end of Parnell St. Old puke & piss & spilt beer stain the path outside & trickle down to the lane running down beside it. There's this big fungi filled shite & on top there's shite stained pieces of snot rag accompanied by a Travel Ten & a Skittles wrapper (All of which are clad in crap). It must have been something to do with the drink, but I continued to purchase the slightly tangy hunk of meat (And I do use the term 'Meat' loosely). In other words a greasy spice burger & a curry chips. Around half way through the chips I realised it was 2:45 & I'd have to piss it back to College Green like a Jack Russell that just had it's arsed sniffed by a very large & horny looking Pit-Bull. The next afternoon, I was back in the hole that we call "Town". Around half one, I went off for something to eat. By the time I've got to the Harp Bar, the previously undeposited Spice Burger & Chips were itching to go sight seeing. I desperately scanned the surrounding area (It was too late to go to the Harp... This one already had a crowbar in the door & knew it would never see an opportunity like this again, it could see it's unborn children glistening in the eyes of my slightly soiled Y-Fronts). I could use the Liffey (Those Life Rings have more uses than you think), but some prick would probably push me in. SHIT! Maybe I could use those shitters that look as though they have some sort of peepshow on inside... and what the f**k is that on the back of them anyway? A big fucking sign saying "Caution, Risk Of Electrocution"! The f**k? Trying to instill a sense of user confidence? When ya go in (In the unlikely event that they're actually in working order), ya start checking for Cameras, Microphones, A large explosive device or any wires leading up to the toilet bowl which might administer this "Risk of Electrocution" & all that's running through your mind is:

ANAL ELECTROCUTION???

F**k that'd be funny to watch with all of those hidden cameras & mikes. But once that hefty load drops... OH! The satisfaction! Dropping that fudge is the problem though, because the seat (Not to mention the floor, handle, walls & occasionally - the ceiling) is covered with piss, so ya have to precariously elevate yr arse above it & point Mr. Tinkler in the general direction of the bowl; & after you've pebble dashed the bowl (And part of the seat if ya stood too long and got a cramp) - THERE'S NOTHING TO WIPE YOUR ARSE WITH! Now ya have to walk around all day with your arse clamped together like a choirboy in the Vatican waiting for it to dry. "God I wish I used the Liffey. At least there's the seagulls would pick your arse clean instead of that wax-paper shite they give ya" Sadly, the former is alot more painful & there's alot more blood. Who I really feel sorry for is the blokes who clean the fuckers who have to splash their way through litres of piss towards the mahogany stained bowl. Poor Fuckers

Glenn