Monday, February 12, 2007

I'd make a terrible politician

The past few weeks' physical labour has drained me of almost all creative juices, and has left me struggling to come up with any decent fodder for the blog. So when I read this weekend that I'd been longlisted in some categories at the Irish Blog Awards, I wondered how I might inspire people to vote for me. Yer man, Braveheart Gibson, him what killed all the Jews, he was a good one for inspiring people. I'm more of a "they may take our freedom, as long as they leave us plenty to eat and access to the PS2" kind of guy. Not a good way to be when these things are all about bigging yourself up.

Being up at half-past five on Saturday morning (Jack decided to wake extra-early because he knew Daddy was feckin exhausted) was made that much more bearable by logging on to find that I've been nominated in three categories: Most Humorous Post for this, Best Personal Blog and Best Newcomer. I am surprised and grateful to whoever voted for me - thanks very much. Even though I requested that you vote for Sweary rather than me, doesn't mean I wasn't flattered to see my name in there. It just means that nobody listens to me.

I don't have a very big readership, but many of you who do stop by tend to comment. This never fails to keep me entertained - the comments are more fun than the post itself. Keep it up, and meanwhile, in the spirit of democracy, let's have a dance to celebrate:

I'm honoured to be among such esteemed company as Annie, Twenty Major, Conor, FatMammyCat, Bock, JC Skinner, Dario, Devin, Nat King Coleslaw, The Rambling Man, Old Knudsen, Manuel, Eolaí, Grandad, Blogorrah, and of course fellow arse-ender, the excellent Swearing Lady. Please, direct your votes their way. I don't want my mammy finding out about my blog. Besides, my shelves are already full of virtual awards.

Oh, and Jason Roe and Red Cardinal have impressive longlists linking all the nominees. Good work lads.


fatmammycat blathered this crap:

Well in Sir, might I just offer fullsome praise for your new photo too while I'm at it.

Kav blathered this crap:

Why thank you ma'am. I grew the pencils myself.

The Swearing Lady blathered this crap:

I've already told your mammy about your blog. She says she's ashamed of you. Also, hi.

Annie Rhiannon blathered this crap:

Yay, well done you, I've voted for you.

Will you be there on the red carpet?

Kav blathered this crap:

sweary: That's what I'm afraid of.

Annie: Thanks a million, likewise! No, I won't be there, though I would like to go. I don't get out much.

Sinead blathered this crap:

Kav, consider the box ticked. :)Thanks for the congrats on the other good news.

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride blathered this crap:

I've been and done my voting AND THAT'S ALL I'M SAYING...

...but I did vote for you. (I'm rubbish at being coquettish).

Where was Old Knudson? Damn, I'd have voted for him if I'd known he was there. That's a pity.

JC Skinner blathered this crap:

That's another ambition nailed! Described as esteemed company, no less!
Rotsa Ruck, Kav. I'll happily accept your award in your absence if you like.
I might scrape your name off it and put mine on it and forget to send it to you, but I'll definitely accept it for you!

Kav blathered this crap:

sinéad: Thanks to you too. Enjoy every minute of it. Well, enjoy as much of it as you can.

sam: Hey, quit fluttering those eyelashes, I'm finding it hard to concentrate. Oh, it's just a bit of dirt in thine eye? Old K had a nomination for Most Humorous Post, I think.

JC: Many thanks, but the odds are stacked against that eventuality. That said, as long as I can write the acceptance speech, you've got a deal.

Fat Sparrow blathered this crap:

"I'm more of a "they may take our freedom, as long as they leave us plenty to eat and access to the PS2" kind of guy."

That's because you're Irish and not Scots.

(ducks and runs)

Kav blathered this crap:

Ah how I've missed you. Now, on with it...

What the fuck? At least the Irish gained their indefuckingpendence, and as you probably know, I was a key member of the foundations of the Irish Free State. Ask Knudsen, I fought the cunt outside the GPO on O'Connell Street.

Fat Sparrow blathered this crap:

"What the fuck? At least the Irish gained their indefuckingpendence"

And what has that gotten you? Were you not just complaining, a few posts back, about how the health care sucked out loud in Ireland, and how you could not afford a house there, even though you are trained and employed in one of the supposedly "booming" sections of the Irish economy, and how much better Scotland was, since they take it up the arse from the Queen? Ireland's biggest export is still people. Makes you wonder where they get the "green" in "Soylent Green," hmmmm? It's paddies, that's what it is.

I missed you, too.

Kav blathered this crap:

Wha...Soylent paddies? Noooooooooo.

I missed the boat, Slim. Ten, hell, probably five, years earlier, and I could've taken that Tiger roughly from behind. Alas, I was just starting to climb the curve when all the smug cunts in their X5's were cresting a plateau a mile above me. To mix the metaphor even more, I locked the barn door after the horse had bolted. I slipped on a rubber after I had made love to the AIDS-infested crack-whore. I...

...oh, you know what I mean.

Bock the Robber blathered this crap:

Hey Kav. Respeck!! Ya knows? Ree-fuckin-speck!!

Here's tossing back a Dutch Gold in yer name.

duckie blathered this crap:

yer a tosser ya are. but that post about the west side story was so funny it made my balls hurt.

Old Knudsen blathered this crap:

One day ya wake up and your'e Irish, lifes a funny ting.

I am just happy to have made the long list as I did fuck all to get there.

Kav blathered this crap:

bock: Right back at you sir.

duckie: Stop making me think of your balls.

knudsir: You are a hilarious cunt. For that alone, you should winner.

Old Knudsen blathered this crap:

As usual you're right.

JC Skinner blathered this crap:

Deal, Kav. Do I have to wear a tutu this time? No tutus or irish dancing dresses, and I'll read out any acceptance speech you write.
Loud and drunkenly from on top of a table, whether either of us win anything or not.