Friday, April 29, 2005

A rat ran past Ba Mizu last night and I saw him from where I was standing outside Grogan's having a smoke. Reminded me of the big rat we called 'Herbert' which I saw from the Porto Vecchio in Florence. Laughing inwardly that I was standing outside a dingy, old worldy, pre tiger maddness institution and the rat was running past that pub where I witnessed a beautiful blonde woman, drunk to the point of obnoxiousness, falling, flailing in the bathroom shrieking about how she would 'roooide anything, anything for a shag'.

Not that sex is not something I enjoy, but I saw her later, dressed in her posh clothes, skinny to the point of perfection, pawing and staggering over men and I wanted to vomit. Of course, it was fabulous darling, fabulous.

Bull. Last night was fabulous. Grub in Cornucopia, pint in Grogans, Comedy in the International, where Ardal O'Hanlon wowed us trying out his new set. He's looking fierce old though, would never pass for Fr Dougal now. And we were dissed, for the first time ever, me and my mate. Because I snorted. Shouldn't have snorted.

It was great to be heckled from the stage with my mate who was there the first time I saw comedy live in The Comedy Club, London.

We should laugh more. We really should. Until our knickers are wet or the snot gushes from our nostrils. Wicked laughing is best. We're all going to kick it, so what's the point in agonising over it. As someone said to me the other day, 'Stiofán. Now that's an unfortunate name'.

"Not that sex is not something I enjoy" what does that tell us?
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