the irish i can stand. just. but its the fucking cob 'oiyrish' fucking guinness drinking theme pub 'craik' mock micks that get right on my tits. who are they kidding, the marketing men for absolutely anything with even the most remote connection with the island of ireland is sold with this fucking annoying pretend irishness thats supposed to make us think that everything there is like finnegans fucking rainbow, there are little people everywhere, every other person has ginger hair, all the fucking girls are called colleen and look like the young one from the corrs, all the men wear suits and waistcoats to dig the fucking potatos and the sun always shines, and in the marketing world, whilst everyone drinks stout and irish whiskey, sups pocheen from big jugs at home and never drink drives, no-one also ever gets shot blown up or fucking kneecapped. theres never any violence and they all have a drink afterwards to show how well they get on. and every sentence ends 'fer sure'. fucking twats. the place is as fucked up and disfunctional as the rest of the world.
"imagine the size of his balls!"