Thread for all discussion concerning television, movies and gaming.
You offer no vision for the future.. you just bark about the past (and a lot of it anti-Catholicism)And there you have it. After a number of very droll years of Kenny's leadership of the country, he's now about to come out of retirement so as he can get on the RTE gravy train and talk about our old railway networks, the same networks he completely neglected for decades in politics.
It was the same with Gaybo after he got ripped off by his best buddy Russell Murphy, Gay's supposed accountant and family friend. Murphy spent everything Gay had saved and it wasn't until he died that Gaybo found out that he was now broke. So in steps RTE and gives him his 'The Meaning Of Life' show which Gay then uses to foist his militant Catholicism upon the rest of us.
Who in their right mind thought that Enda Kenny had a personality at all? To my eye, the man's about as exciting as a cold cup of tea with a dead fly floating on top. Now he's going to get paid to bore the pants off people all over again. Hope he doesn't let slip and make a racist joke again, once was enough already. The dumb fucker was attending a state dinner in Spain a few years back and decided to tell a n*gger joke to the Spanish president. The table went silent and he was forced to retract the joke and apologise. What kind of thick bastard tells a racist joke at a table full of politicians and other royalty?
So he's now back in the employ of the state, and this time it isn't your tax money paying his inflated wages, it's your TV license that'll set him up for another easy million euros. I wonder will he introduce us to the famous 'Two Pints Man' he met in a bar that one time that never actually happened. Or any of the other bullshit he spoke about which also never fucking happened. Now he'll be reminding us of all these forlorn and abandoned train stations up and down the country which were closed down over the years by him and other fuckers just like him.
I can't wait to be honest, it's bound to be a riveting show: Enda's sexy, husky, musky voice crooning about coal burning steamers and the old cattle truck commuter trains I used to ride from Tara Street to the N.ational Maritime Museum on Haigh Terrace in Dun Laoire for work as the house calligrapher. Freezing cold, all windows open, and plastic seats N.ailed onto the side walls as you rattled and rumbled your way along Dublin's south coast.
I grew up on Landen Road, so we have multiple lines right over our back garden wall, and as a kid I used to spend a lot of time over there. Climbing onto the trains that were in for repairs, shunting, and wheel-tapping. Stealing boxes of King's crisps from the factory and selling them on in the school yard at half the price the shops were selling them for. Of course, now you think me a thief, right? But kids are easily swayed by the never-ending smell of crisps frying in the air, it was only N.atural we took our fair share.
Unlike Enda, who has no need to steal anything from anyone because that would be beneath him. Instead he lines up at the trough for the big pay off from the state, the same state who has already made him a millionaire. And now they want to make him into a television personality. Crazy really, especially when you remember that for the years that he was our Taoiseach, we could NEVER get him on telly to answer questions. He was asked, demanded, begged, pleaded with, and even offered cash payments to do a live one to one interview with any working journalist in RTE. But no, Enda didn't 'do' questions or answers. No, he avoided going on telly rigorously for eight fucking long, miserable, jaded years.
Except now he's back: a new television personality!
On a side note, those of you with skills in making water balloons and pipe bombs might consider a new target over in Montrose, no? Fucking savages have even hired that dumb bint child of coke-head Gerry Ryan's for shows. A loudmouth gobshite whacked out on coke from morning til night and on into a death by overdose and STILL his talentless sprogs get a foot in the door to the trough.
Gas little fucking country alright.
The very man who whipped your back while you were down on your knees is now here to suck up more of your money in return for him indulging himself in his favourite hobby: no - not choo-choos, but state euro cash money. And lots of it. Man, I'm so happy I don't live in Ireland anymore: I think I'd likely lose it and start torching the institutions. And why not? When you've got fuck all then you've got fuck all to lose, right?