howya or hi to our international readers,GILBERT GILHOOLEY, ireland's greatest and biggest gangster,here.
Decided to walk home to my 18 million pad in ballsbridge in the posh part of Dublin tonight.
You know,break in the new crocodile loafers from salvatore ferragamo,Fatso Kelly,me chaffeur,
left me off from the S Class Merc at the bottom of dublin's most famous shopping street,Grafton Street.
Jaysus,there's beggars and drug addicts all over the place,roma gypsies shovin their abused brats and their
paper cups in your face,they're worse than irish politicians lookin for dig outs.
I'm on the Champagne lately,strollin up to the Shelbourne Hotel for a few flutes is my latest recreation,this poxy beer is knockin me
off course for a couple days after due to the massive hangovers.
I said to Fatso Kelly,i'm drinking a few flutes of champagne lately,he said what's a flute got to do with drinking?
Ignorance is bliss,i thought to meself.
It's the beer,Fatso,i said,it's knockin the fuckin guts outta me,Champagne doesnt give me a hangover.
Champagne is like ..it's like wine,is it?Fatso said.
I said,yeah Fatso,it's like ...wine,made from bananas from different countries..
what countires,Fatso asked.
Italy,the Ivory Coast,south Korea mainly..what a thick bastard and he's my Capo..
anyway,dublin's suburbs are full of dog turds,at least grafton street is a quarter clean,
dirty dublin is right.
over there,there's a dopey Dublin Corporation totally uninterested "worker" pushing a Madvac cleaning machine along at minus 2 miles per hour,
wearin his manky Man U football shirt,if he had the machine stolen off him and shoved up his arse,he wouldnt even notice.
there's more bleedin bicycle-riding,rickshaw-pulling chinese in dublin than there are in fucking beijing,too..
i think i'll go to polish lessons,me kids'll have to speak polish in 10 years..still,they buy my smack,mustnt
be "racist",eh?
anyway,mustnt be grumpy,either,it's a lovely,sunny evening as i step into the jacks(toilets)
here at dublin's famous pearse street irish rail station before boarding the train for ballsbridge,get away from the riff raff and litter clogged dublin.
jaysus,holy jaysus,the stink in the men's jacks would stop a herd of rampaging rhino in its wake..
no bog paper,the loos are filthy and havnt seen a cleaner since 1871,the purple light to stop the junkies injecting would blind a guide dog,
christ,let me out of here,fuck craig doyle,advertising those useless bone polishers lying that their
trains are like the luxury orient express from london to vienna..
where's me mobile,where's me mobile? the stink is fucking ferocious.
Fatso,is that you,get up to pearse street dart station,fucking NOW.
