Monday, 6 May 2013

Photos of Irish Nightlife (Slightly NSFW)

Photo: ...if you can't lift her...don't shift her...
PhotoPhoto: I'm just back from holidays...swear.

Photo: One does not approve.
Photo: ...forget something?

Photo: Sent to us on twitter
Photo: ...I think she's had to much...
Photo: For the night that's in it!
Photo
Photo: Nagen they said...be grand they said.
TADA!
Photo: Regrets...I've had a few...
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

This is the future motherfuckers. The antiuniversity is nothing more than a grain of rice, an embarrassing, degenerate mess where the once great Irish man is nothing more than an ersatz shell. Seeing the abyss, he decides to fill it with meaningless, crass drunkploitations, cliched opinions about Paul Galvins faggy clothes and primitive, overproduced pop music. The lassies are not much better. Hypergamy is their cross and look where it has led them ken.

If I was to describe myself, I'd say I'm a pessimistic optimist. Optimistic about myself, that if I put the work in, my family, friends, hobbies, whatever, have potential to be something worthy of merit, worthy of being a man. Pessimistic, because the combination of no god everything follows shite, alongside Cathedral boys being baptized in the waters of Keynsian economics, historical revisionism and utilitarianism is a toxic one. Fuck this shit.

But hey, at least we have iphones now! And digital watches, the mostly harmless cunts that we are. 

10 comments:

  1. Hahaha, there can be no greater contrast between two things than between those photos and that passage. I feel that for the most part nostalgia is usually worthless and misguided, but other times, man, there's no denying that culture just seems to have gone to shit.

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    1. Haha, you're absolutely correct. There's a lot of people that go "oh back in the 50s when times were wonderful" and whatnot, when there were problems back then, but some of this stuff ken? This is just bonkers like!

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  2. i went to ireland in 1999. had a BLAST. cleaned up too on some VERY good looking irish lasses.

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  3. "His soul swooned slowly" - if my soul ever "swoons slowly", you have permission to shoot me.

    Looks like a pretty typical night out in the north of England!

    Good work on squeezing the Douglas Adams reference in.

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    1. Ah like, those were the times! Twould be a typical night in The Big Schmoke en aw.

      Have to say the trilogy of five is a favorite of mine. Fucken manic depressive robots and towels abound!

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  4. My . . . God. Is it like this outside of the cities as well?

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    1. Not as bad. Places like Cork/Galway are more laid back, relaxed, the main shit happens in Dublin, but a lot of places it definitely exists. Rural towns like Dingle, yous would be surprised en aw. But yeah, countryside is different.

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  5. Holy crap. At least it hasn't gotten that bad where I live.

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    1. Rural places probably fare better though?

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    2. Just a bit. We don't have girls lying in the middle of the street drunk, they're mostly in the back of pickup trucks LOL.

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