Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Top 5 Scary Moments - #4

On the rare occasions when there's a heavy fall of snow in Ireland, the country's infrastructure more or less grinds to a halt. Snow is an unprecedented event in a country kept depressingly ambient by the Gulf Stream. When I was young, I often wondered what it would be like to live in a place where the seasons were seasons, punctuated by clear changes - hot in the summer, cooler but still sunny in autumn, snowy and crisp in winter. Spring, pah. Spring's a shite season. You never hear anyone say spring's their favourite season. Feckin lambs flouncing all over the place, the gays.

Anyway, Ireland's weather pattern is usually rain followed by scattered showers with intermittent periods of drizzle. Fo' shizzle, no dizzle. The slightest hint of sun sweating the streets dry triggers jumpers coming off on the pastiest fuckers this side of that albino lad in The Da Vinci Code (ie Irish men).

You can be sure that every year after Ireland's allocated two weeks of sun near the end of May, there's two or three stupid cunts whose backs look like burnt rashers. Great fun slapping them though.

Heavy snow meant that half the school (the ones from out the country*), including the fucking redneck teachers, would not show up. Lack of staff meant that us city boys who had no choice but to brave the elements and walk to school would be given the rest of the day off, free to chuck snowballs at the harassed public.

On this particular morning, we were sent home from school, and three of us were walking towards Woodquay, past the Town Hall. This was back when the Town Hall was still a rat-riddled cinema, not a fancy-dan centre for the arts and culture like you see in that link. Traffic was, as you'd expect, at a standstill.

We were playing a game, as stupid dickhead teenagers do. The object of the game was to, using utmost stealth, toss a concealed snowball over your head, so that it lands on the roof or (ideally) the windscreen of one of the cars stuck in traffic. Done right, this was a near-foolproof way of throwing snowballs without getting caught.

All was going well until one of us (not me) decided to throw a snowball at a Toyota Hiace.

If you're Irish, you will at this point be shaking your head and saying "Kav you stupid cunt. Big mistake." Well, I told you, it wasn't fucking me who threw the bastarding thing. Not that it matters.

If you're not Irish: Toyota Hiace vans -

- were (are?) the vehicle of choice for knackers, a breed best known to foreigners by Brad Pitt's role in the film Snatch (see top image). They were called pikeys in Snatch, but they're the same thing, more or less. Sound until you cross them, and then you're fucked. A large cross-section of them are dangerous creatures, ungovernable by society's laws and social etiquette.

So when Kevin hit that Hiace, we knew we were fucked. We didn't even need to wait for the sliding door to roll back, we just ran like zoo-freed chimps. No matter. Seconds later the van door rattled open and our legs turned to jelly as we caught sight of the bullnecked neanderthal bearing down on us, intent on tearing us to shreds with his bare hands.

He was a smart fucker; he went for Kevin first. He could probably smell the guilt. Kevin, sensing this gorilla's bloodlust**, regressed into an infant before our eyes, just as the guy's slab-hands wrapped around his throat. The tears flowed fat and quick and he bawled and begged and at that point he did not give a shite that he would be slagged mercilessly for this for months to come, all he wanted was for this big scary motherfucker to let him go.

It worked. He released Kevin, and leapt at me. He was possessed, fuelled by rage and liable to do anything because of it. One of us had almost damaged his Hiace, and that's worse than riding his sister.

You know how people say "Things went kinda hazy for me at that point?". That did not happen. I can recall that moment in high definition clarity (four times sharper than your average memory). As he wrapped his hands around my neck, I thought of Homer doing that to Bart in the Simpsons, and when he started to squeeze and snap my head back and forth, he was roaring "Was it yaw? Was it yaw yaw skinneh cont? I'll rip the fuckin head aff yer shawlders, wha the fock threw it yaw cont?" and while he shouted flecks of spit hit me in the face and one went in my mouth and all I could see were his red eyes and I knew that any second now he was going to slam his forehead down and burst my nose like a ripe tomato and somewhere a girl was shrieking over and over saying "It wasn't me, please please, it wasn't me" and then I realise it's not a girl it's me and my voice hasn't even broken yet oh Christ I'm far too young to be killed by a knacker and then he shoves me to the ground and I land in the slush and he storms back to the van because there's a break in the traffic and I've never been so grateful to have a cold wet arse as I am right then.

*in those days, out the country meant anyone living in Carnmore or beyond. Galway's expanded so much since then that there's no real distinction between city-dwellers and country-dwellers anymore.

**apologies to Mr Gorilla Bananas, this was written for comic effect and was in no way intended to stereotype gorillas.


Pinkie blathered this crap:

Let the stalking begin.

Ah seasons... aren't they wonderful when you get them? The leaves turning gold and red and yellow and falling gracefully to the ground .... whereas here they turn brown and fall from the sky like soggy poo. *le sigh*

PS: I love you.

PPS: Paul Bettany is hotter than Brad Pitt.

purplestew blathered this crap:

You're writing is just...I lurve it. :)

Bock the Robber blathered this crap:

Best tinker story ever

whyioughtta blathered this crap:

Can't...stop...laughing..."somewhere a girl was shrieking over and over..." Oh man, that is some funny shit.

Great post.

p.s. I've always wondered what real Irish folk thought of Brad in Snatch. Was his accent any good, really?

Devin blathered this crap:

Kav...you SURVIVED Pahvee gob down yer throat?? Are you slowly turning into a knacker like that fella in The Fly?
If your next post consists of you asking "Woood ya like a bish a Caarpesh Ma'am?" or a chance to invest in a piebald i'll be a tad annoyed.
That was one funny story A Chara although it could have gone sour.Snowballing (Hee)a Hi-Acky is tantamount to suicide.
I thought Brad in Snatch did a fucking great job actually.

Kim Ayres blathered this crap:

I was at the cinema as a kid and watching "Jaws" for the first time, and at the bit where the face comes out of the boat under the water there was a real whimpy girly scream that echoed throughout the cinema.

Oh the embarrassment when I realised it was me...

Old Knudsen blathered this crap:

Travelers are a dirty people, you're lucky he didn't take you to be his tribe's slave. Peelers won't chase you in the snow but knackers will, there is a lesson to be learnt here, pass on this wisdom to your children.

PS: I love you too.

The Swearing Lady blathered this crap:

You stupid prick, Kav. I don't feel wan bit sorry for ye, no I don't.

PS: I was a townie. You city cunts were terrifying freaks with fags where your hands should be.

The Swearing Lady blathered this crap:

Also, I bet my left kneecap that you have a great big knackery accent on you and all. Hahahaha, Castle Park.

Conan Drumm blathered this crap:

Ah Jayz, yiz were slow off the mark at the auld running... and had he no slash hook on him?
The sad thing is so many of the travelling people have gone to the bad these last years. The sly roguery of former times has turned into terror for a lot of lonely elderly people in the country. They need to sort themselves out. And as for claiming a different 'ethnicity' to the rest of us... I just don't believe it.

fatmammycat blathered this crap:

'It wasn't me, please pease it wasn't me!'...oh poor thing, that made me laugh very hard, but I do feel sorta guilty about it.

boudica of suburbia blathered this crap:

Awww... I almost feel for you!

jali blathered this crap:


Just Beautiful.

First the DaVinci Code mention - (I was one of the few in my crew that actually liked the book. The rest of them are much tooo deep to enjoy it)

Then, Snatch (one of my favorites!) and Brad (who will dump the tall slim chick and come and find me someday).

Then, right in the middle of the exciting story you hit us with "The Simpsons".

I love it. I'm going home to re-read something by Robin or Rosamunde Pilcher or Maeve Binchey so that I can get my Irish on!

Foot Eater blathered this crap:

Sounds a bit James Joyce, that last paragraph, except nobody's tongue ends up in anyone's arsehole.

The Swearing Lady blathered this crap:

Maeve Binchy?

You have killed me.

Ted blathered this crap:

a ps on the Traveller theme... look out for an obscure American fillum, called Traveller with Bill Paxton, Mark Wahlberg and Julianna Margulies... American Travellers, honest!, just like the ones here at home, running all sorts of scams...

BStrong blathered this crap:

Great post Kav. It reminded me of the time when I was about 14 walking around town with my friends with waterbaloons. We threw one at a car on a one way steet thinking the guy wouldn't back up. He did and he chased us through multiple store fronts and a restaurant. He finally got a hold of my friend Rob. By this time the police were on the seen and the guy who's car we struck told the cops in his russian accent that we threw watermelons at his car. He said "I come to America to be free and I get Vatermelons thrown at my car.

Cops let us go and after a trying to scare us with juvi. I think the russion was in tears..............pussy


Sassy Sundry blathered this crap:

Hmmm... Comment didn't seem to post. Sorry if it duplicates. Here's what I was trying to say:

Oh, Christ, that was funny. Zoo-freed chimps. That's beautiful.

I thought the time that my friend and I threw whipper snappers (little white things that sound like firecrackers when they hit the ground) into traffic was bad. At least we didn't hit knackers.

Thanks for sharing your high definition memory.

Steph blathered this crap:

You're a funny cunt and no mistake.
I heart you much :P

Jagd Kunst blathered this crap:

A fucking snowball? I don't know anything about snowballs. Having a smart-mouth I know about, but snowballs? Snowballs? What the fuck? Who gets mad about a snowball? Knackers. Glad I've never seen one. Then again, you've probably never seen a maori...

Kav blathered this crap:

pinkie: Jaysis, you appeared. Welcome. Soggy poo indeed. I was out recently taking photos (all the lovely autumn colours) and for a week or so it was nice, and then, like you said, the streets are covered in soggy crap. Gack.

purplestew: Welcome along, and thanks very much. Jesus, I'm overwhelmed.

bock: Thank you sir.

whyioughtta: Glad you liked it. I thought BP's performance in Snatch was pretty much spot on. One of the better accents you'd hear. Better than Robin Dude, Kevin Costner, or Braveheart Gibson, anyway.

devin: I survived, just about, though I retched a few times afterwards. Gak.

kim: I feel your pain.

old knud: You are wise beyond your many years. Especially wise is your love for me.

sweary: I don't have wan, but I can do an excellent knacker voice when required. I'd scare the bejaysus out of you with my authenticity.

conan: Twas the shnow that impeded our running. Sliding all over the place. And I agree with you about the minks. Just another case of shirking responsibility in society. My cruel upbringing made me do it. My fucking arse.

cat: Don't feel guilty, I laugh about it now myself.

boudica: Almost? Christ, I'm going to have to come up with something good to sway you.

jali: I highly recommend Sweary's as yet unpublished novel if you want a decent representation of Ireland. You could also read Irvine Welsh and imagine that Ireland's kinda like that. Kinda.

foot eater: I'm going to have to take your word on that one lad, as I find James Joyce as impenetrable as a Christian leader's anus. Wait a sec...

ted: Welcome to you sir. Cheers, I'll watch for that. Will it make me laugh though?

bstrong: Thanks for stopping by, and cheers, that's another reason for me to hate the reds. I can't wait for the Cold War to end.

sassy: Thanks. Actually, I have a story about those whipper snapper-type things too. Perhaps I will share it one day.

steph: I heart you right back. You are the cunniest funt in the Southern Hemisphere.

jagd kunst: Welcome to my fucking blog. I've seen maoris on TV, does that count?

The Swearing Lady blathered this crap:

You do have wan. You jus can't hear it, ah, I'll bust ya.

Jagd Kunst blathered this crap:

I guess so. You've probably seen starwars too. Loads of Maori's in that.

Old Knudsen blathered this crap:

Even after the other post I still respect you,not a lot but enough for my needs.

Fat Sparrow blathered this crap:

I'm baaaaaack....

Jeez, he got that upset over a snowball? Over here it's rocks, "D" cell batteries, bullets, etc. We don't get the snow.

I know what you mean about the seasons. Over here it's either Hot, or Fucking Hot. Officially, there's two seasons, the Wet Season (November - April), and the Dry Season (May - October). Someone forgot to tell the weather, as there's no sign of rain, and it's been 80 degrees.

I had the hots for Paul Bettany in "A Knight's Tale." Sad but true.

Kav blathered this crap:

Swearing Madam: Ah'll sell ya the jackif aff yer back missus, you'll give may yer shoe and then bah it raht back aff me. Watchit now or ah'll pit yer tayth in yer bellay.

jagd: Are they the little furry cunts in Return of the Jedi? I hate those bastards.

knudsen: I'm reminded of that oul Erasure song.

fat sparrow: Good to seeing you flapping by. At least you folk get suntans. Most of us would blind you if we showed you any skin.

Jagd Kunst blathered this crap:

No mate, they're Boba Fett.

gerrylyo blathered this crap:

If you ever come back this way, i will burst your nose like a fukin tomato 4 ya.

your obviously one of them dumb motherfucks in america.
how can the population be so stupid..
braindead asswipes.

Anonymous blathered this crap:

Ill give ya everyting i own if you come to my town and, to my face..
Call me a knacker, then read that load of bollix to me before I rip yer fingernails off yer scrawny lil paws, sclice yer eye balls, drill yer kneecaps n light ya.

tis a funny thing about knackers, we know it thrive on it and can defend wat we are. wat can you do ya fukin mongrel..