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Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2017 1:30 pm
by Tender
1.30pm and I have an urge for a pint...

Poets may be shot at dawn, just what Dawn might say about that is anyone's guess, but yis have been warned.

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2017 1:43 pm
by Dave
rumncoke wrote:A limerick gets to the gist
Our "Dave " is in a red mist
Like a microwaved bunny
His rhymes are unfunny
He must be Brahams and Liszt

What's that to do with Ulster you say
Or how the team ought to play
Nothing at all
But I'm having a ball
Leaving that to another day

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Both awful.

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2017 1:57 pm
by Dave
Rum has been doing this for 60 years
But his latest effort would leave you in tears
For they are so awful
That it should be unlawful
To have this shyte afflicting your ears

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2017 4:13 pm
by BaggyTrousers
big mervyn wrote:
BaggyTrousers wrote:When Ulster were on the up
We played in the Heineken cup
But now we're on a down
The SDC just makes me frown
No more on foreign rugby fields I'll sup

A poem on Ulster Rugby

When things go wrong and they won't come right
Though you do the best you can
When days are as dark as the hours of night
A pint of plain is yer only man

When money's tight and hard to get
And your horses has also ran
When all you have is heap of debt
A pint of plain is your only man

When health is bad and your heart feels strange
And your face is pale and wan
When the doctor says that you need a change
A pint of plain is your only man

When food is scarce and your larder bare
And no rashers grease your pan
When hunger gnaws and your meals are rare
A pint of plain is your only man

In times of trouble and lousy strife
You've still got a darling plan
You still can turn to a wonderful life
A pint of plain is your only man

When Ulster are poor and lose to dross
And we rush to blame yer man e-geek
Instead of angst, bile and getting cross
A pint of plain is yer only man.

With thanks to Ronnie Drew for the inferior first five verses.
Is it not Flann O'Brien?

Jaysus now sir and ye know it might be that man, I only know that ould Ronnie used to perform it at gigs quite often, maybe just to give Barney's fingers a rest from picking the steel.

Having performed a modicum of research you are right Merv, it was indeed Count O'Blather, Flann, Myles or any of the other names Brian O'Nolan called himself by.

In the course of my research, I came across this from the Irish Times just a couple of years back. Anyone with a titter of culture needs to know you may risk laughing your two balls off whilst reading it. Anyone finding it not even remotely funny should get the fuc'k out of my sight, for you sir are an omadon of a gobshite basterd.

An elderly man who gave his name as Myles na gCopaleen was brought before Dublin District Court charged with causing a disturbance on Fleet Street.
His honour Judge Twinfeet remarked that the man in the dock was no stranger to him. The defendant was heard to mutter aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile.

His honour warned the defendant that this was no place for Latin tags or Norman quiddities. That sort of thing was all very well for the Fancy Dans beyond in the Four Courts, but this was the Bridewell, and the only person wearing a wig here, as far as he could tell, was the defendant himself. He advised him to stick to the English or be held in contempt.

One wig knows another, replied the defendant. He would rather be held in contempt than that cell they had him in. There was hoppers in there the size of a gerbil. It was all very well for the lower sort of Irishman, but he would have the court know he was an English baronet.

Sgt Pluck, prosecuting, stated that on Wednesday, April 1st he had found the defendant stripped to the waist and roaring in the middle of Fleet Street.

There was a strong smell of drink off him. When he tried to calm the defendant, he took a swing at him but fortunately missed.
Quis custodiet, ipsos custodes, said the defendant. The incident would not be repeated: if he ever got another dig at that red-faced turnip-snagger Pluck he’d make sure and do proper damage.

Sgt Pluck said that after a brief scuffle he had subdued the defendant, who then resisted being put in the car that took him to Pearse Street, claiming to have parliamentary privilege.

His honour Judge Twinfeet admonished the sergeant for what he termed a regrettable lapse in his diction. Parliamentary privilege was an abstract class of a thing not admitting of possession. One might not have it. It could only be enjoyed.
“It’s great gas altogether,” agreed the defendant.

Na gCopaleen asked permission to appear for himself, citing the precedents of such learned gentlemen as Descartes and Hume, solipsists the both of them, who reasoned that it was unwise to rely on the appearance of anyone else.

In evidence, he said that that day had begun like any other for him when he awoke in the restaurant car of a train parked in the Phoenix Park tunnel adjacent to King’s Bridge station. There was, however, something different about the quality of the light at the end of the tunnel that day, April Fool’s Day.

“It was as if the daylight had changed with unnatural suddenness, as if the temperature had altered greatly in an instant or as if the air had become twice as rare or twice as dense as it had been in the winking of an eye.”

Things went from bad to worse. There was not a sinner from the Irish Press in Mulligans of Poolbeg Street. When he went round to Burgh Quay, the Scotch House was not merely closed, but absent entirely.

The Irish Times had likewise vanished from its customary location. The buses on the street had mysteriously changed colour, and the Plain People of Ireland had learned to walk upright, and bristled with an unwanted quantity of relatively straight and unstained teeth.

The defendant implored the court to imagine his horror when he looked into the Palace only to find it hosting what appeared to be a mass-meeting of the Irish Writers, Actors, Artists and Musicians Association – the dreaded WAAMA.

The back room was stuffed with writers and actors and similar self-regarding liúdramáns, all blathering out of them about some besotted scribbler who had mercifully snuffed it nearly 50 years before. The main bar was crowded with hangers-on and riffraff and there were painted women in the snug.

Outraged at this halfwitted invasion of his habitual sanctuary, the defendant had asked them all outside to sort it out like men. He had already stripped for the combat before he discovered that none of the curs had followed him outside.

His honour Judge Twinfeet ordered the dismissal of all charges against the defendant. He could leave the court without a stain on his character, which remained pseudonymous if not fictitious.

As part of the annual Myles Day celebrations there will be readings and songs in his beloved Palace Bar, Fleet Street, Dublin, 3pm-7pm today. No charge, all welcome.
I once spent a day in Sinnott's Bar, that great underground cavernous hall with a "Cheers-like" bar in the centre. It was probably the late 80s and three of us settled in at opening time, starting with pints of Genius & black coffee, hour after hour we supped steadily hour after hour, no rush until around tay time when we walked the length of Stephens Green and into the mouth of Baggot Street to pick up a 4th reveller in Doheny & Nesbitt.

Stopping for a gentlemanly pint of Tom's finest Genius and a wee ball of malt on the side, before making our excuses to the landlord and heading back to Sinnotts for the kick off of the footie match tixt the Oirish Republic & Espana, not that we gave one solitary shyte about the result but the bar was hopping.

I have no notion of whether it was 2 or 3 gallons of porter that slid down the thrapple that day, but I clearly remember finding illustrated excerpts from the writings of Myles na gCopaleen on Sinnotts walls, quite early in the proceedings, but having drink taken, found them amongst the funniest things I had ever encountered.

Anyway Merv, when all is said and done, Ould Ronnie just made use of the poem when O'Nolan had left the building. :thumleft:

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2017 4:26 pm
by Dave
Rodney got arrested - for shouting "allahu Akbar"
What he actually said was - "have you got a snack bar?"
The cops apologised that day
And said this error we must repay
So they took him off to Burger King - in their bleedin' squad car!

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2017 3:15 pm
by rumncoke
Larry ,Leslie and Dan
Were part of Ulster's 16th man
But Old age and Ill health
And diminishing wealth
Has now put an end to that plan.

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Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2017 3:17 pm
by Dave

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2017 11:16 pm
by rumncoke
Typical profane stupid comment

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Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2017 11:47 pm
by Dave
Larry, Leslie and Dan are a pack of waankers.

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2017 11:38 am
by rumncoke
No they were long time season ticket holders and Ulster supporters before the better half of you was a wet patch.

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2017 1:14 pm
by Dave
Oh so vulgar Rum! My goodness! Gee wizz, golly gosh, oh crums....

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Tue Jun 06, 2017 10:04 pm
by Bart S
I am going to be first out of the blocks with our new material......

Our new scrum coach is Aaron Dundon
Who hails from Wellington and not from London
He'll make our scrum great
But when we get past No.8
All the good work will swiftly be undone

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Thu Jun 08, 2017 9:34 pm
by Bart S
A weekend in La Rochelle
Won't be too difficult to sell
With a plane full of booze
For the Alecadoos
And free wifi at the stadium as well

Disclaimer: The wifi comment was for rhyming purposes only. please do not book a trip to the La Rochelle game without first checking whether this service is indeed available, if this is key to your enjoyment.

Anyway, in the words of Jimmy Cricket....."There's more"

We also have a trip to Quins
And to Coventry for our sins
But we won't complain
When all three we've slain
And topped the group with six wins.

EDIT: Obviously the last line was also for rhyming purposes only.

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Sun Jun 18, 2017 1:13 pm
by BaggyTrousers
Lions selection of wee Allen Dell
Eddie Jones says, has created a smell
For his game is not fit
Not that I give a sh1t
They've picked second class Taffies as well.

Re: Silly Season Limerick Competition

Posted: Sun Jun 18, 2017 4:22 pm
by Cap'n Grumpy
BaggyTrousers wrote:second class Taffies
Not quite tautism, but the word "Taffies" makes the use of the descriptor "second class" superfluous as this should be self-evident.

The lengths some people will go to to make a line scan. :roll: