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Migrant Fairies Escape To Tipperary

As one eye said to the other, “Don’t look now but something between us smells.”

Graffiti, it’s everywhere in Thurles; on every Street; on the Doors and Walls of trading business premises; on Electrical and Telephone interconnecting thingamajig metal casings; Car Parks, River Suir Walkway walls, Signposts, the new Source Theatre and yes we know who is responsible, armed nightly with ladders, it’s ‘The Fairies’.

[Music used with this video hereunder is appropriately called – “King Of The Fairies” ]

Down in Co. Kerry that celebrated and wise old Teachta Dála (TD) Mr Danny Healy-Rae spotted it first, claiming ‘The Little People’ or the fairies were interfering with roads.

He claimed fairy mounds (or ‘Liosanna’) were impeded by the National Roads Authority in the area of the main Killarney to Cork traffic route, resulting in a surface dip mysteriously re-appearing on a regular basis.  Those living abroad may not be aware that Fairy forts and prehistoric Tumuli (ancient burial mounds) were seen by previous generations of Irish people as the entrances to the fairy world. Even the cutting of a ‘Sceach-thorn’ bush (Whitethorn) on fairy mounds was punishable by these “Good People”, resulting often in the death of all who performed such acts.

When Graffiti first appeared in Thurles, many of our residents believed that Banksy, the anonymous England-based graffiti artist, political activist, and film director of unconfirmed identity, had come amongst us to reside. Local Banksy experts within Tipperary Co.Co., however, quickly confirmed that this doodling was not his work; claiming instead that this was the mere scrawling of some 6 of our 2,569 Thurles town unemployed persons, lending further credence to the well known phrase, “the devil finds work for idle hands”.

However a ‘leaked document’, recently seen by this website and emanating from a prominent Tipperary Councillor, rejects this belief, claiming that this graffiti is the work of ‘migrant fairies’; foreign nationalists if you will; latter forced to flee across the border from persecution in Co. Kerry.

This Councillor in his statement, claims that proof; (as if further proof was needed), is that these fairies are totally invisible, with the Thurles closed-circuit television (CCTV), (which cost one hundred thousand Euro to install just 3 years previously), now unable to visually capture the images of these fairies at work, due to night fog.

This leaked document also states that despite efforts by Tipperary Co. Co. to attract employment to Thurles, through the Industrial Development Authority (IDA), alas no site visits by the latter have as yet materialised.  This we understand is not due to the lack of broadband speed, nor the fact that Tipperary hospital patients are the worst affected by overcrowding, in the country and most likely to die in an ambulance.

Keep it to yourselves but the remarks reported by one senior official in the IDA and quoted in this leaked document, states; “The town of Thurles looks like shit, and those on paid salaries and tasked with the job of upgrading its profile, are believed to be either dead or in deep slumber”.

To those politically motivated individuals who will send me emails in the coming days, claiming that I am showing Thurles in a poor light; I say get out of your SUV (Sport Utility Vehicle), your BMW, Mercedes-Benz, Lexus, Audi, Ferrai or Porsche; come, take a walk on the wild-side.


Thurles Man Confesses Theft From Employer

Thurles, The Cathedral Town

Thurles born, Mikey Ryan, following a recent health scare, decided it would be best to confide a previously undisclosed, yet nagging secret, to his local parish priest.

“After all God sees everything”, as Mikey pointed out to me, “so it would be only logical to get things sorted out down here on earth, instead of slowing down others on their processional route, through Heaven’s Pearly Gates”.

I must say personally that I felt Mikey should have kept his secret, especially what with the cost of Mortgages now-a-days and the inability of Banks to loan out money; but Mikey remained adamant. True to his word, down in the Confessional of the Cathedral of The Assumption here in Cathedral Street, Thurles, last Friday; Mikey finally admitted that he had been stealing materials from the building supplier, who had kept him gainfully employed for the past 45 years.

“Have you no shame and are you not aware of the moral imperative laid down by God in His commandments”, asked a chastising old priest.

“Surely you remember your catechism and the words, ‘Thou shalt not steal’. Remember the words also, my son, ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbour’s’,” rhymed off the old priest, “Indeed my son you have grievously broken not one, but two of God’s Commandments, through endeavouring to scheme, covet and acquire another man’s possessions”.

The old priest paused briefly before asking, “So what did you actually steal from your employer and neighbour, my son”.

“Well Father, to be totally honest,  I stole, over the past 40 years, enough to build my own four bedroomed house; then there was my son’s house, and two other houses for both of me daughters”, confessed Mikey.

“Oh and Father in the last year I built a small week-end fishing lodge over on the shores of Lough Derg, to accommodate myself and a couple of me mates to hangout in”, continued Mikey, making a conscious decision to rid himself of his entire guilty secret, once and for all.

“This is truly a serious matter my son”, stated the priest,  “Pray now to God, seeking forgiveness, while I think of an appropriate penance for your most grievous of sin.”

Some minutes later the old priest asked,  “Tell me Mikey have you ever done a retreat in the past”.

Mikey thought for a moment, before replying, “Begob no Father I haven’t, but sure look if you can produce the plans, I can get you most of the necessary building supplies”.


Never Underestimate The Power Of A Chamber Pot

Enamel Chamber Pot

It was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning, just like today, as Thurles District Nurse, Sister María Theresa; an employee of the Health Service Executive (HSE), started out on the road to visit some of her rural housebound patients.

About an hour into her journey she ran out of petrol, but remembering she had just passed a Topaz petrol station about a half a kilometre (0.31 of a mile) back, she decided to return to that same location in the hope of borrowing a petrol can and purchasing some petrol.

The helpful Topaz station attendant, alas, informed her that the only petrol container currently in his possession had just been loaned out some 15 minutes earlier, but she was welcome to sit and wait, since he expected the can to be returned within the hour.

Since Sister María Theresa was anxious to see her next patient, latter just released from hospital; she decided not to wait and walked back to her car, having remembered that in her car boot was an old enamel hospital chamber pot she kept in reserve for ageing patients suffering from the problem of frequent urination.

Sister María Theresa now carried the chamber pot back to the petrol station, and having filled it with petrol, she carefully carried it back to her car.

As she was pouring the petrol into the vehicle’s tank, two passing non-religious believers spotted her activity from across the road. Having carefully watched the Nun’s actions, one of them turned to the other stating “If that feckin car starts, I’m turning Catholic!”


Mikey Ryan Is Home From Lanzarote

First off, Mikey Ryan may be many things, but he is not a liar. Himself and myself were in The Arch Bar, Liberty Square, here in Thurles, today enjoying our second Pina Colada, when he quietly shared this tale with me, on the strict condition I wouldn’t repeat it.

Mikey had returned from his 10 day stint in Lanzarote just yesterday, and was sharing newly acquired wisdom, having experienced for the first time the delectable flavour achieved by the mixing of Bacardi Carta Blanco with fresh pineapple juice, not to mention a tablespoonful of coconut cream.

Anyway, Mikey was extolling the virtues of Lanzarote Cocktail bars, which eventually brought him round to talking about the activities of a certain pub here in Friar Street, Thurles, which had changed hands back in the late 1950’s, “No names, no court-martials”, as Mikey stated .

The new proprietor, it seems, had thought of everything to attract prospective clientèle; a new dart board, centred in a half tyre to protect his newly painted wall from near misses; two decks of shiny waxed playing cards for games of ‘Old Maid’; a bar billiards table which accepted only an Irish Sixpence in order to acquire the 8 balls with which to play; a small stage area for Accordion or Fiddle players of Irish music; a new carpet for women who might enter for a sherry, to frequent the small ‘Snug’, and three shiny brass Spittoons, latter strategically positioned in the public bar, so as those who became ‘legless’, wouldn’t fall over them.

On the eve of the night of the ‘Grand Official Opening’, the proud new proprietor copped Mikey Ryan heading down the street and summoned him to cast his experienced eye over his new establishment. Mikey having discovered that all first drinks would be free, if patrons showed up before 8.30 p.m., suddenly showed interest. Having surveyed the premises favourably, Mikey decided there was just one small change required to this new exciting 20th century licensed hostelry.

“Yes, free Snuff must be positioned on the counter for all customers”, said Mikey.  As he correctly stated, this premises in the past had always provided free Snuff, and to halt this practise now could be detrimental to any future business, not to mention the Good Will; same built up since as far back as the Great Famine, when it first opened its doors.  Trouble now facing the anxious proprietor was that the licensed tobacco shops in Thurles were now closed and where would he get Snuff for the opening taking place in less than 2 hours?

Running a last minute broom around the pavement in front of the pub, suddenly there appeared a possible answer; yes, a dog shit on the pavement.  Picking it up on his shovel he quickly transported same to a saucepan inside, before placing it over the open fire. Having dried it sufficiently, he then ground it into a fine brown powder with the fire poker, before placing same in two metal egg cups, on his polished counter top.

According to Mikey, the first visitor through the door that night was the Chairperson of Thurles UDC. “One pint of Guinness and a whiskey chaser to start, if you please”, said the Councillor, reaching for a pinch of Snuff, before inhaling what he believed was pulverised, smokeless, tobacco powder, deep into both his nasal cavities.

Within seconds he was checking his shoes; had he accidentally walked in dog do-do, dragging it into the newly refurbished premises? A thorough and careful examination of both shoes, trouser legs and hands revealed nothing untoward. The Councillor made a mental note to bring the matter of ‘dog shit’ up at the next local monthly Council meeting; now believing that perhaps it was the new proprietor himself who had accidentally walked in the offending excrement.

The next visitor to enter the pubs portal was the local Teachta Dála (TD). The TD and Councillor shook hands, as is customary on such occasions, before the Councillor, in low tones remarked, “Tell me, do you get an awful smell of dog shit in here, or is it my imagination”.

The TD sniffed the air a couple of times, before stating he could smell absolutely nothing, before he, himself reached out for a pinch of the Snuff provided, and again inhaled it deep into both his nasal cavities.

“Powerfull Snuff that,” said the TD sneezing, “Jasus that stuff has really cleared my head, proof is I can now smell that dog shit you referred too earlier.”


100 Jobs Lost At ‘French Frillies’ In Thurles

I fool you not readers, when I state that figures in relation to those under the age of 25 years, in receipt of Social Welfare in Thurles, have actually increased.  If you don’t believe me, check CSO figures HERE yourself; yes, and also check that when the categories ‘Both Sexes’ and ‘All Ages’ are represented, note currently 2,169 persons are in receipt of Social Assistance. Yes indeed, Tipperary The Place, The Time.

The last two to be laid off this week and who found themselves drawn to the Thurles unemployment office, were Paddy McGann and Peter Hackett, both who had worked in the town for the last 10 years.

When asked his occupation by the Social Welfare officer, Paddy said he was, “A Panty Stitcher. Up until yesterday I used to sew the elastic onto ladie’s cotton panties and thongs, in the recently closed branch of ‘French Frillies’, latter a knickers factory, situated in the Archerstown Industrial Estate here in Thurles.”

The diligent Social Welfare officer looked up ‘Panty Stitcher’ on his computer to find it classified as ‘Unskilled Labour’, before awarding Paddy the miserable sum of €80 per week in unemployment benefit.

Peter Hackett was next in the line, and when asked his occupation, he stated he was occupied as a ‘Diesel Fitter’. The diligent Social Welfare officer again checked his computer to confirm that a ‘Diesel Fitter’ was indeed a skilled job, and Peter was therefore awarded unemployment benefit of €160 a week.

When Paddy heard about Peter’s awarded benefit he was absolutely furious. He stormed back into the Thurles Social Welfare office the following morning, to ascertain why his friend and co-worker was collecting a double benefit.

The Social Welfare officer explained, “Panty Stitchers are regarded as unskilled labour, while Diesel Fitters are considered highly skilled labour.”

“What feckin skill?” yelled Paddy. “I sewed the damn elastic on the panties and the thongs. Peter was employed to simply eye-up prospective customers, before holding the required garment up to the shop assistants, yelling: “These’ll fit her!”