Monthly Archives: September 2012
Benburb Priest Rares Up Over Parking Spot
Well known Benburb cleric, Fr McNally(originally from Maghery), has stunned the Benburb parishioners by going on a verbal rampage during Stations of the Cross tonight in St Mary’s Church. It has emerged that the reason for his outburst surrounded the decision of sacristan Mrs Gildernew to park in his spot outside the vestry door. Although the car park was three-quarters empty, Fr McNally took issue with the sacristan’s manoeuvrings, three minutes before he arrived on the scene.
“I’d never seen the likes of it,” avid church-goer Kitty Mulgrew told us. “The good Father just went berserk calling the whole parish a ‘bunch of selfish pricks‘. He said that’ll be the last time he’ll set foot in this ‘hellhole of a place‘. Then he lit on the Gildernew family saying they were a shower of Eglish blow-ins anyway. It was savage stuff.”
An artist’s impression of Fr McNally
Things took a turn for the worse when he ordered the altar boys to bounce Mrs Gildernew’s car out of his parking square. The young boys, aged 8-11, only managed to slightly move her Ford Ka before Mr Gildernew arrived with a shotgun. Mulgrew added:
“It was like a real western scene, the likes never seen in Benburb before. Patsy Gildernew told the altar boys to get back into the vestry but the Father was blocking their way. It was only when Gildernew threatened to blow his head back to Maghery that Fr McNally relented. Jaysus we thought it was one of them British soaps.”
Mrs Mulgrew has since resigned from her sacristy post and took a taxi home, leaving the car there for badness.
Dregish Apologise For Eating Missionary
Despite a gap of 160 years, the people of Dregish have finally apologised for cooking and eating a Scottish Missionary on September 13th 1852. The act of contrition occurred as a local witchdoctor, still practising in the area, finally decided that the cannibalistic deed was indeed responsible for their lack of silverware on the football field. He advised that an apology should be issued to help break the lengthy curse.
“I’d heard about the human feasting in Dregish as I child growing up in the area but thought no more of it,” local joiner Pat Bunion told us. “When you think about it we’ve been fairly dry when it comes to success so an apology to the family of Tamish McStocker is worth a punt. I’d heard that only his boots were left and they even tried to chew through those. He was said to be delicious but a little salty.”
Cannibalism in Dregish, 1800s
How McStocker had annoyed the Dregish villagers is still unclear. Some documentation points to the possibility of him indicating that the women in Drumquin, were he had just come from, were ‘prettier than the Dregish women’.
“There’s a big rivalry between ourselves and Drumquin, especially regarding the women. To be honest, if a man said that today whilst in Dregish he still might get the same treatment. There’d be a short fuse around these parts. There was a preacher from America here last year and he was going on about salvation far too much. We had him boiling in a big pot, alive, before the PSNI intervened. Unfortunately, there’s no place for cannibalism in Ireland these days and we’re poorer for it”
The public apology with be followed up by a ceremony in Dregish involving McStocker’s great, great, great grandson who will be presented with the half-chewed boots his ancestor wore that fateful day. Dregish play Beragh this weekend.
New Public Toilet For Newtownstewart
Horns were blaring through the historic village of Newtownstewart tonight after the Tyrone County Council (TCC) announced they have granted permission to erect a public toilet in the centre of the Main Street. In the second of its kind in Tyrone, the TCC hope it will bring tourists to the hamlet and give the locals something to be proud of.
“We want the Newtownstewart people to puff their chests with pride when they see a foreigner stopping off to do their business in the toilet”, said TCC spokesperson Audi Pyper. “It’s a state of the art facility with velvet toilet roll, a flush that you hardly hear from the outside and these hand driers that blow air onto your hands. Call me crazy but I can envisage people from as far as Strabane coming here for a rattle at it.”
The Coalisland toilet debacle, May 2012.
The TCC will be keeping a close eye on the lavatory after the failed experiment in Coalisland earlier this year. A £10 million toilet was opened in the East Tyrone town but only one person managed to have a go on it. The celebrations were so wild after the first successful attempt at a flush that hundreds of frenzied locals began ripping the thing apart, in sheer excitement. It was only afterwards, when they looked at the rubble, that they realised what they’d done. Newtownstewart Lord Mayor Mary Murray told us that no such scenes will be repeated on her patch.
“I can assure the public that this toilet will stand the test of time. Anyone who gets too excited after the first successful usage and flush will be shot, no warning. Also, after the first roll of toilet roll is done, users will be asked to provide their own toilet roll or docken leaves. Anyone who blocks the toilet because of an unusually big stool will be banned, permanently.”
Schools in the area have begun an essay competition to see who will have first go on the new toilet, entitled “I’m Right To Have A Shite”.
Flu Epidemic In The Rock Blamed On ‘The Brits’
An influenza episode which has ripped through the sleepy village of Rock shows no sign of abating today with the finger firmly pointed at ‘the Brits’ according to the regulars in McLernon’s Pub. At the time of going to print it was estimated that 300 of the 302 population had contracted the ‘flu with the only healthy bodies being an elderly English couple who live on the Cookstown Road.
“I’ve never seen the like of it”, a sniffling Gerry Gourley told us. “There’d be boys coming in here ordering half’uns and the snatters and slabbers would be tripping them. Their wholes faces would be covered in that oul shite, the eyebrows stiff hard from it. But sure it’s The Brits. You’re telling me it’s just a coincidence that the Scunthorpes up the road don’t have it? Pull the other one. They’re trying to break us.”
A Rock man, today
This is the latest in a line of local incidents in the Rock blamed on ‘The Brits’. The bad smell, a nest of dead sparrows, 3 broken bicycle chains, the rain, the poor quality coal, dog excrement at the football field and the overwhelming desire to attend cock-fighting has all been laid squarely at the feet of ‘The Brits’ despite the absence of a British military presence in the Rock for ten years now. A drunken Gourley added:
“We need to be vigilant. Them boys are capable of anything. Yesterday Mrs Tally nearly slipped on a half eaten KitKat left outside her back door and her snattered to the gills. Why would someone eat half a KitKat? Who would do something like that? The Brits, that’s who. Them boys are well fed with their big necks and all”
‘The Brits’ have refused to comment but we were told David Cameron is looking into it and was seen carrying a big folder with ‘The Rock’ written on it this morning.
Donaghmore Clamper Clamps Himself
Notorious privatised Donaghmore clamper Jamesy McMahon accidentally clamped himself whilst clamping a 1999 Ford Escort parked illegally in the village main street outside Costcutters. McMahon, who was given exclusive clamping powers by Stormont in 2009 for that area, was still receiving treatment in Craigavon Hospital last night for severe leg wounds and battered pride.
Clamper McMahon
Hoping to nail his 311th clamping this year in Donaghmore, McMahon was disturbed in the process of securing another £90 by a passenger shouting obscenities at the Donaghmore terror.
“I was just doing my job. Patsy King knows he shouldn’t abandon that rust-bucket there. That’s the 6th time I’ve caught him. Just as I secured the final bolt, Johnny Donnelly drove past and called me a ‘good for nothing oul bollocks’. I made a move to offer the middle finger in return when my leg jerked inside the clamp and the bastard thing locked itself. It was excruciatingly painful and extremely embarrassing. I was vulnerable and scared. I thought they were going to eat me”
Before long, the whole of Donaghmore were out on the street clodding McMahon with potatoes, lumps of meat and scalding tea and performing some kind of cannibalistic dancing ritual. A good samaritan phoned the clamping man in Pomeroy who arrived within an hour to release McMahon, charging him £90 for the service. The ambulance arrived to take McMahon to Craigavon but he still managed to re-clamp the Ford, laughing as he was escorted into the emergency vehicle, shouting ‘yiz pack a effin hillbillies. I’ll be back’.
Killyclogher Man Destroys Supermarket Butter Section, Arrested
A prominent Killyclogher businessman was arrested late last night after rampaging through his local supermarket, at one stage attempting to urinate on particular brands of butter. In an apparent revenge mission for Kerry’s defeat of Tyrone a couple of months earlier, Terence McNabb (45) singled out Kerrymaid, Kerrygold and Kerry Low Low Cheese for particular abuse. An elderly shopper witnessed the vicious attack:
I was browsing through the toilet roll section when I heard a man screaming bad things from another aisle. I looked over to see what the commotion was about and there was a middle-aged man with a Tyrone GAA jersey on him and he was scooping out the butter from various tubs and rubbing it over his face, body, walls and floor. He was shouting things like ‘take that yiz Kerry Nazi hoors’ and ‘you’ll be getting no sales here’ and sort of laughing manically.
Butter Before Attack
Supermarket security arrived just in time as McNabb was unbuttoning his trousers in preparation for urinating on the now-empty butter containers. After an initial struggle, the business hotshot, who had been drinking all weekend whilst watching reruns of the fateful game in Killarney, was escorted off the premises as he shouted abuse at the workers, telling them they were ‘no Tyrone people at all stocking that effin shite’.
The PSNI arrested McNabb for what a spokesman called ‘the last straw’. It emerged that McNabb had earlier sent abusive twitter messages to Kerry Katona, Jim Carey and Paul Galvin before running at, and kicking into the air, a neighbour’s Kerry Blue terrier.
Terence McNabb awaits trial.
Tyrone Lonely Hearts Club Notices
Caring black-headed Cappagh man, 55, stout, likes Glenroe, water, Hungarian poetry, ladybirds, grass, medicine. Heavy drinker. Seeks relatively plump and rich woman (40-70) for long-term friendship. Must relocate to Cappagh and be comfortable with rows.
Attractive red-haired Omagh woman, 65, winner of Miss Tattyreagh 1975, seeks big strong man who is not afraid to cry and likes to listen to Eileen Donaghy records and drink late into the night. Strong stomach required.
Brocagh woman, well built, 61, bit mad (hears voices), seeks caring, strong man who is comfortable dunging out the house. Personal hygiene not important. Time wasters will be hurt.
Bitter Ardboe man, 77, small, slightly stooped, recently divorced from wife of 40 years, would like to meet caring, honest lady, if any exist in this cruel county of hatchet-faced bitches.
Bad tempered, foul-mouthed old bastard, 71, living in a damp cottage in the arse end of Loughmacrory, seeks attractive 21 year old blonde lady, with a lovely chest.
Satan-worshipper, Gortin area, 51, seeks like-minded lady, for eating and drinking, bit of craic, groping, romantic walks, and slaughtering animals in cemeteries at midnight under the murky light of a pale moon.
Optimistic Moortown farmer, 45, seeks a blonde 20 year old flexible model, who owns her own brewery, and has an open-minded twin sister.
Active Drumragh grandmother (81), with original teeth, seeking a young man (21-35) to share steaks, corn on the cob and ice cream.
Greencastle male, 1942, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Isn’t in running condition, but walks well. Seeks any woman who’s happy to clean me out as I hurtle towards the grim-reaper.
Killyman Postman Fails To Deliver Letter Correctly For 77th Time
Popular Killyman postman, Nat McVeigh, was tonight considering tendering his resignation to Royal Mail after failing to deliver the same letter to the correct address for the 77th time earlier today. The letter, believed to be a Littlewoods catalogue bill, has been processed so many times now as “Return To Sender” that the address is almost impossible to make out now.
“It’s like some kind of mental block and it’s destroying me. I deliver the letter and two days later it’s back in my sack again having been recycled through the whole system. My wife says I’m a hateful balax at the best of times but my constant dark mood is making life unbearable at home for everyone. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve sent the cat soaring through the Killyman air at 6pm as I walk though my gate.”
Postman McVeigh on a typical Killyman day
The address which just states ‘Mrs McVeigh, Laghey Road’ happens to be the same road the experienced postman lives on, alongside four other houses all owned by unrelated McVeighs. Killyman is a quiet hamlet and sometimes the mysterious letter is the only mail to be delivered throughout the week.
“I just cannot fathom it. I’m sure I’ve delivered it to each of the other houses at least four times each. Mattie McVeigh at number 3 is getting pretty angry. He warned me that if I deliver it again he’ll blow my brains out. It’s a treacherous job now. I joked with the wife yesterday that maybe it’s our bill. She laughed at me, dressed in a new silk petticoat and diamond slippers, and said we couldn’t be affording Littlewoods stuff before running off to do something important.”
McVeigh will attempt his 78th delivery tomorrow with a special mass celebrated that morning for his intentions.
Beragh Man With No Insurance Repeatedly Fools PSNI For 13 Years
A Beragh entrepreneur boasted yesterday of his ability to drive with no insurance, tax and ‘hardly any suspension on her’ since 1999. Paddy Jacobs, a clown/street entertainer in the area, has decided to ditch the motor for a new mountain bike he bought at a car boot sale in Trillick last week.
“Sure I’d only be traveling as far as Omagh or Cookstown for some child’s birthday party and the bike will do the same job. I was getting tired of hoodwinking the cops anyway. It’s time to come clean.”
Jacobs’ motor car.
Jacobs said he was often stopped by the police at the bottom of his loanan or on the Sheboy Road. He thinks they were sure there were no documentation for the vehicle he was driving and suspicious that there was no suspension at all.
“I’d see them rubbing their hands as I approached, like as if they’d finally got their man now. Sparks would be flying from the back of the Datsun. I’d be all nice and give them my faded licence. As they were squinting to make out my name and address, I’d quietly lift the mobile phone and phone the police to say that there was an on-going robbery somewhere close by. I was whispering like. It’d be phoned through to the cop in front of me and he’d be away like a shot. I’d just wind her up and drive off. I did the same trick over 300 times.”
Jacobs claims he’d change the nature of the prank phone call each time, from a bank heist to sheep rustling.
“There was one time they arrested the parish priest because I phoned through that he was leering at the female cooks in the school canteen. He was in the middle of devotions when they nabbed him and still took him to Omagh barracks. It got a bit silly at the end. I recently fooled them into driving to find a well because I said someone was pishing into it. There is no well in Beragh.”
The Beragh entertainer says he’ll not be getting a helmet for the bike and doesn’t know what an MOT certificate looks like.
Fintona Family Outfoxed Planning Officers And Built Castle
Furious Fintona officials are frantically foraging through a forest of forms to see if they can knock down a castle built under their noses in the outskirts of the village. The discovery was made when the local postman, who had been delivering bills to 1 Castle Lane since 2008, consumed ‘several pints of the hard stuff’ and was overheard by a government official talking about ‘the bastard of a dog’ at Mangan’s castle. An immediate investigation discovered a fortified building with 30-foot wide moat surrounding all sides which had been hidden from the road by a tower of bales.
Fintona’s latest Castle
Fintona Planning Chief Officer Mary Mopper told us:
“To be honest, we’re a bit red-faced about this. How they managed to build at 200-foot high castle with a tower-bridge and dungeon under the tower is beyond us. On one level it’s a remarkable achievement. On another, we’ll crush it. They’ll be back in a caravan by Christmas.”
The owner, self-styled Lord Horace Mangan, believes he has nothing to fear.
“The law states that they cannot do anything about it if they’ve not known about it for at least three years. They deserve it, the stupid bastards. We’ve managed to hire 40 butlers, 20 slaves and 3 jesters, all from the area, as well as imprisoning a few local bucks in the dungeon who were making too much noise in the Main Street at night. Sure half of Fintona were drinking in the Castle Tavern. We even fired a canon ball one night.”
The Planning Officers are planning to lay siege to the castle at the weekend but rumours persist that an army of 300 Fintonians are prepared for battle from the fighting platforms and projecting towers.
Edendork Family Had a ‘Decent Summer’
A respected Edendork family yesterday claimed to have had a “decent summer altogether at home, boys” amid confusing scenes outside the Dungannon Jobs and Benefits Office in Dungannon. The remarkable admission left fellow ‘Dorks perplexed and doubtful of their honesty following the 22nd horrible holiday season in a row in the townland and surrounding areas.
Summer was tough in Edendork
Mr McAnoy, a retired butcher and avid kite flyer, told his fellow jobseekers that he’d had enough of God and the climate and decided to take on the Irish weather head-to-head.
“We were looking out the window every morning and sure it was lashing down. We’d send the children (six daughters, 2 sons) out into the rain anyway but sure they were miserable just standing there quietly in the field, drenched, crying and too cold to move. After the third bout of pneumonia we decided to take matters into our own hands.”
Jim McAnoy came up with the genius plan to throw the whole lot into the car and drive to where it wasn’t raining, within a twenty mile radius of Edendork. Although the mileage was astronomical over time, McAnoy claims a great time was had by all.
“There were days we’d only have to go as far as Coalisland to beat the rain-clouds for a few minutes. If the wind wasn’t too bad, I’d overtake the clouds no bother. As soon as we’d reach the Lineside, out would come the beach balls, deck chairs, lotion and sandwiches. It was great craic. I admit there were times when we’d just got the stuff out of the boot and it’d be pishing down again which would result in a massive row between myself and herself and long periods of silence in the motor but there were fleeting moments of happiness.”
McAnoy claims the highlights included reaching Cabragh and it not raining for 25 minutes. In that time, they managed to fit in an ice cream, a game of Monopoly and had stripped off to their trunks before the heavens opened.
“I’m proud that the children can go back to the school and write the essay ‘What I did In The Summer’ with confidence and pride now. That is, apart from Tom and Catherine who are still recuperating from the early onset of arthritis. We’ll probably go to Peru next year though”
Castlederg To Host Cross-Community Paramilitary Games
The Castlederg Community Project have moved to cash-in on the feel-good factor following the Olympic and Paralympic Games in London by announcing the inaugural 2012 Paramilitary Games. In a concerted effort to develop community relations on both sides of the divide, all paramilitary groups will be invited including the UDA, PIRA, RIRA, CIRA, RHD, UFF, DAAD, UVF, INLA, LVF and the OV.
“We’re really excited to be invited”, the INLA claimed through a coded telephone call. “We’ve been practicing the shot putt for ages now and have high hopes of at least a bronze medal. We hear that the UVF have a few big men but it’s all about how you perform on the day up in Castlederg.”
Paramilitary Games Promotional Photoshoot
All participants are required by the recently drawn-up rules to wear balaclavas and wooly jumpers which does present a problem for the swimming competition. The RHD were a little worried about the strict dress code:
“That is a bit of a hindrance alright. The lads have been out in Belfast Lough practicing in their work clothes so we’re confident we can adapt to conditions. There has been a recent shipment of skin-tight balaclavas from China which will give us an advantage over the provos who still use the 1980s model. The River Derg can be treacherous”
Those attending the opening ceremony in the ‘Derg will witness an array of musical acts including The Wolfe Tones, The Shankill Accordian Band and Willie McCrea who will sing the Games’ anthem called “I hae a leanin’ twards the Laird, bein’ a Christian” in Ulster Scots. The £10 firework display has been cancelled due to concerns about the sound it makes.
Killeeshil Boiler Engineers Protest At Clean Oil
A rally was held tonight in the centre of Killeeshil after it emerged that local boiler servicers have been left twiddling their thumbs as most oil companies decide to go legit and deal only in clean oil. Up until early 2012, dirty oil meant the money rolled in on a regular basis for the Corgi Registered handy men with boilers often bursting into flames. Oil companies themselves were benefitting from mixing the home heating oil with water, cooking oil and general dirt with 50 gallons magically expanding to over double that.
“I don’t know what they think they’re at,” Paddy Morgan told us. “When you think of the severe winters recently coupled with the crap substandard oil swishing around it, we were more important than God. We were worshipped. Our phones would be red-hot from October til April with all manner of boiler problems. The oil men themselves were getting some mileage out of their stuff my throwing in sorts of nonsense into it. I knew of a man near Eskra and he’d even get his workers to urinate into the oil tanks at his garage. It was a win-win situation for all.”
Once happy Killeeshil boiler engineers
In a sudden pang of guilt, most companies have mysteriously decided to go clean and dish out only 100% pure oil, leaving the boiler men up in arms.
“Those money-grabbing wasters are thinking only of themselves and their so-called conscience all of a sudden. Well, what about us? We have mouths to feed too and the skulduggery was doing that for years. Bastards the lot of them. I blame religion”
Remarkably, the protesting servicers were joined by members of the public in an unlikely show of solidarity. One frail, elderly man remarked:
“I miss it you know. I miss the fear that at any given moment the boiler might blow itself up because of the amount of shite in the oil. When you add in the freezing minus 10 conditions and the chance that it’d be lights out for an old man like me with circulation problems at the best of times, the buzz I got from the possibly devastation kept me going. Now I know it’ll be chugging away smoothly in the morning. It’s a bit boring to be honest.”
Rumours that a dissident Boiler Men group have been going around sabotaging boilers is, so far, unfounded.
Derrylaughan Woman Implicated In Turf War
The mystery of the missing turf from McAliskey’s rampart appears to be nearing its conclusion with the revelation that a local woman has been monitored early each morning walking ‘oddly’. A reported £48 worth of turf has been stealthily removed from the McAliskey land over the past three months with various families at war over rumours, speculation and random accusations. A violent field fight during the Washingbay Sports last month resulted in hospitalisations for the majority of the McNulty, Robinson, McAliskey and McGrath families from the area.
McAliskey, yesterday
However, it appears that a small piece of investigative journalism work has moved the conundrum towards the finishing line. 16-year old Gerdy Wallace takes up the story:
“I’d been taking the ass out for a walk every morning at 6 because it gets little real exercise during the day. Each morning, I’d meet Anna Cushnahan and thought no more of it. We’d nod our heads and just say ‘rightly’. However, I did notice she seems to have a bit of a limp. After a week I asked her if the legs were hurting. She told me to mind me ‘own effing business ye wee runt’. “
Suspicious, Wallace from then on kept a good eye on Cushnahan as she approached. He thought he spotted strands of turf root hanging from under her dress. He also noticed her hands were filthy and her backside seemed rather bulky as she passed.
“I can’t be sure but I’m almost certain that Anna has been stuffing two, possibly three, sods of turf down her knickers every morning. My da told me that her great great grandfather was caught stealing about a pound’s worth of peat on the same patch of land in 1856 not too long after the famine and was transported to Van Dieman’s Land.”
Cushnahan refused to comment but a loyal neighbour said that Anna’s clan always had a strange walk, “like a drunk peacock.”
Brackaville Woman Gives Husband Pasta
Brackaville, an outer-Coalisland nether region that most people just drive through, was awash with rumour last night that one of their favourite sons didn’t get his Kerr’s Pinks after work. Patsy Rea, an aged Brackaville labourer, was expecting his daily dose of potatoes, cabbage and bacon but was reportedly furiously enraged to be faced with a plate of curly pasta and a mild salsa sauce. In an attempt to ‘get with the times’, his wife Maisie dished out the unique meal shortly after the Angelus on the wireless, having watched ‘one of them cooking programmes’ on RTE earlier in the day.
“Ask any man”, Rea told us, “and he’ll tell you that all a brickie thinks about from 3pm onwards is the big feed a spuds. It’s what keeps ye going. Like today I was digging a hole again. I’ve been digging the same hole for three months now. To come home after that and to have to look at this oul hatchet-faced bitch is one thing but then to be presented some some kind of foreign shite on a plate. Well, no man could take that.”
Patsy Rea on the rampage
Neighbours reported that Rea went into a frenzied rage through all the gardens in the estate, pulling trees and plants out by the root and shouting obscenities directed at his wife and life in general.
“I was frightened at first”, one neighbour told us. “We had just sat down to watch The One Show after a tremendous gorge of Greek spuds. Out of the side of my eye I saw my wife’s prize dahlias soaring through the sky. I headed out to give Patsy a good hiding until he told me about the pasta. Sure it’s like a death in the family. I couldn’t even imagine his resentment and I can tell you now – I’d completely wreck Brackaville and half of Coalisland if I was given a plate of that shit.”
Rea eventually calmed down and ate the pasta, claiming afterwards that “it wasn’t bad.”
More Sober than Drunk in Kildress for First Time
Kildress teachers, first day back
The Tyrone Pioneers’ Association released their annual sobriety statistics yesterday with the highlights including a higher number of sober men that those permanently drunk in Kildress for the first time since records began in 1909. This startling stat comes as no surprise to the housewives of the area who have put in a sustained and sterling effort since 2010 in order to dry out their husbands, boyfriends, fathers and sons.
Mrs McGurk told the Tyrone Tribulations office:
“You notice the difference. In the past the bin-men, plasterers, joiners, sparks, doctors, teachers and priests were all too drunk to do their jobs successfully, or even at all. There was rubbish all over the fields, houses were dilapidated, no electricity for weeks, women being misdiagnosed as pregnant when they’d just put on beef, children running wild on top of school buildings and no masses. The place was a no-go for tourists. BBC were coming here to film footage and pretend it was Africa for their news programmes. A couple of years ago the women of Kildress decided enough was enough.”
McGurk was at the forefront of the ‘Wolfe-Tone Wicked Women’ (WWW) movement which met once a month to share stories about controlling their men, mostly through violence. The first sign that things had turned the corner was when the postman was getting some of the letters delivered correctly. The proof was in the pudding and with the news that 51% of Kildress men are sober at 6pm every day, Mrs McGurk feels the initiative was vindicated but asked women to remain vigilant.
“This is just the start. We can’t allow ourselves to become complacent. Instead of a pat on the back after yesterday’s announcement, I gave my husband an unmerciful hiding last night for just mentioning the word ‘stout’. Next year we want the percentage up again.”
One male source, who did not wish to be named, laughed at the figures released, claiming that a new Russian vodka was virtually undetectable. He told us, “we’ll alwaysh be one shhtep ahead of the wemen. Themsh Portuguese boysh collecting the bins”.
Urney Mule Talks
Urney woke this morning to the sensational news that a mule in the field beside the shop possibly spoke to a tourist last night, shortly before midnight. The startling claim was made by Lithuanian clown assistant Mustafa Lukatit who was making his way home to Glenelly by foot from Strabane after a children’s party.
“I was just taking in the manure-ridden scenery on the way back from Glenelly when I heard it. At first I thought it was the mind playing tricks but as I turned I saw the mule looking straight at me with sad eyes, waiting for a reply.”
Smoking Urney Mule?
Lukatit marched straight into the local public house, ordered a half’un and spilled the beans to the only other man in the pub, Fr Jake McGraw, the local curate, who in turn paid for the drink.
“Fr McGraw was well-oiled but when he heard the story he staggered out towards the field and began exorcising the mule, gathering water from the shuck, blessing it and then flinging the stuff straight at the Equus Asinas. I felt a bit bad about the whole thing as I couldn’t be sure if I’d heard anything at all. But it definitely looked at me like it had said something.”
When asked what the mule had said, Lukatit was evasive and said it might have “asked for a light“. When it was pointed out that local hobo Francey O’Hagan always lay in the ditch at that exact point, the Lithuanian became aggressive, accusing the journalist of “asking too many effin questions” and retorted that Urney was a “munchie shit-hole of a place” and that he’d not be recommending it to the Lithuanian community back home in eastern Europe. Whilst walking off he added that it was common for mules to smoke on the continent.
Tyrone Tribulations 