Tuesday, 21 August 2012

How A Trip To Poznan Ruined Francis Begbie For Life


You'll never baet the Irish!

cha cha cha

You'll never baet the Irish!

cha cha cha

A dropout at the last minute. A bit of the old flu, keeping ye doon, but nae fuckin flue for the deft cunt Begbie! Flick open the mobile phone and success. There it is. Answer away and get all of dis from Sick B =  "Y'alrite Francis, ah wilnae be abe mayke the football in poaland, want to take the ticket off my hands?" The beacon lads! Francis Begbie was offered a ticket to the Ireland and Croatia game! Elated! Money was subsequently exchanged. Savings were used up. Planes were boarded. Copious amounts of vodka were consumed. Sleep was lost. Luggage and clothes was also lost. Poznan for three days. The city, the Irish fans, the football! Then, the calamitous 3-1 loss, officially the worst team of the fucking tournament, and then back on the plane not long after later. There were lessons to be learned, a life changeing experience. First, the chant, "you'll never baet the Irish", isn't actually true. You can actually beat the Irish. Second, polish food is not very good.

Third, the women are absolutely stunning.

There wasn't really that much done in between games, apart from a bit of banter with some of the fans, the Spanish (highly arrogant bastards) mostly, and getting the drink on, so in between all these stretches, we took to the streets, just to look around, take in the whole thing. It shocked me really. Wherever I went, I was surrounded by great looking women. Slender, tall, long haired, beautifully and colorfully dressed. 6, 7's, 8's as far as the eye could see. Paradise Lost, gentlemen. In his heyday, Napoleon took Polish mistresses, being the hottest broads around, for the king kong alpha what else would he take? Irish men with game, during the Celtic Tiger period did as well, dropping their Bridys and getting with the Blancas. Don't expect this to be a RooshV data report by the way, I was only there for less than half a week, was drunk an awful lot of the time, and only interested in the football. But, in my subsequent strolls around the city, I decided to play a number of games. Probably the wrong word to use. Field research might be a better one.

Francis Begbie staples: 

1): The Fatty Game. Rules: How long, and how many women in the 18-30ish range are fat.

Results: I got bored, played it too long and gave up looking. Even Captain Ahab would have a tough time finding whales here.

2) The Ugly Beure Game. Rules: How many women in the 18-30ish range are less than a five in looks.

Results: One girl, every twenty or so minutes. It was rare enough, that the ugly chicks, would be the ones that would be embedded in your brain.

3: The Femininity Game. Rules: Any women who have short hair, Skrillex haircuts, wear man clothes, exhibit clearly masculine behaviour, or anything of the like, are to be disqualified.

Results: Femininity is an aphrodisiac. Chicks like these meanwhile, just make your dick go limp.

For all you nerds out there, the beauty distribution was something like this:

 Let the mean be a woman who is a 7, on the looks scale. There is a standard deviation of 1. So, 68 percent of the women in Poznan were between a 6 (cute) and an 8 (hot).  In comparison, the Irish distribution looks a bit like this:
Ugly girls, obesity, and women that don't shower, making maths fun for everyone is what Francis Begbie does.

From this, average girl in Poznan:

To this in Ireland:  

I am shell-shocked and tentative. I return home, to find myself surrounded by fat women, dressed in arse over the fense tracksuits. I sit on the bus, and hear an overweight mid twenties lassie, talking about these two lads who are "stalking" her. Irish women are cruel to beta males, just saying. I think back to Poznan. I think back to those three sweet girls who loved The Smashing Pumpkins...

I think I'm ill. I've contracted what Ferd used to call Roosh Syndrome now. Still, the symptoms might die off. Hopefully.  

Until then, strive to be better. Greater. More productive. Cutting edge game, so the fatties are nothing more than rabbits in your headlights. The next few months are going to be very interesting, no doubt.

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