Category Archives: Drumnakilly
News coming through that Sean Cavanagh may be on his way to Beragh. More shortly
Reports emerging that Owen Mulligan has been looking at an estate agents shop in Ardboe, sparking rumours of a transfer out east
TRANSFER! Joe McMahon has made the move down the road to Drumragh for six bags of coal and two VIP tickets to see Nathan Carter in Drumragh College.
We return to the Owen Mulligan story. He was in fact just looking at his reflection in the window and not property browsing.
More on that Sean Cavanagh move to Beragh. Beragh officials are prepared to offer their historic Standing Stone as well as three months of home heating oil for Sean’s services. There appears to be a hold up due to Cavanagh’s demands that his brother Colm goes too. Beragh don’t want Colm.
Noises made about Tommy McGuigan moving to Trillick. More on that later.
Sensational news emerging that Derrytresk have bid for Kerry’s Declan O’Sullivan. More later.
Trillick’s Jewish community have announced they will not renew their season tickets if McGuigan moves out west. Deal off.
The O’Sullivan to Derrytresk story is gathering legs as reports are confirmed of a Kerry reg car speeding up from Dromid towards Ulster.
TRANSFER! Moy have sold Philip Jordan to a knackers yard.
Owen Mulligan has been spotted chatting to Donaghmore‘s chairwoman Debbie Donnelly, sparking rumours of a move to St Patrick’s.
Declan O’Sullivan has been spotted buying a bottle of mineral in Cavan Town. Deal closing in.
The Mulligan story has been quashed after it was confirmed he was just chatting Donnelly up.
Beragh have backed down and are prepared to take the two Cavanaghs in exchange for the Standing Stone and the Drumnakilly Devil.
O’Sullivan spotted in Fivemiletown asking for directions to Derrytresk. Onlookers say he looks excited.
TRANSFER! Omagh have bought Moortown underage sensation Paddy Quinn for a packet of Haribo and two VIP tickets to see Nathan Carter play at Drumragh College and have promised to have him speaking English by Christmas
Ageing journalist Ronan McSherry seen buying a Brackaville jersey in Dungannon, sparking rumours of a sensational comeback.
The Cavanagh to Beragh saga has taken another turn as it emerged that Cavanagh’s wife doesn’t like the shops in Beragh.
Owen Mulligan spotted playing bingo in Edendork Hall, suggesting of a move to St Malachy’s.
Carrickmore have made a bid for entire Clonoe team.
Cash strapped Clonoe have accepted Carrickmore’s bid for their entire team in part exchange for Conor Gormley.
The Rock have denied rumours they are in the market for a new lawn mower, stating ‘we are happy with the mower we have.’
Mulligan will not be going to Edendork. He was simply checking out the talent at bingo in a Wayne Rooney sort of way.
Philip Jordan has failed his medical at the knacker’s yard
Cavanagh to Beragh is off. Mrs Cavanagh has complained about the climate up there.
Conor Gormley has been revealed as a Clonoe O’Rahilly player at Tessie’s, the only one left, sparking wild scenes of jubilation. Ruthless manager Cassidy says ‘he’s better than the shower we had anyway”.
Tommy McGuigan has controversially tweeted ‘punch a Ballinderry man today #dicks’.
One hour of the Tyrone Transfer Window left
TRANSFER! Ryan McMenamin has been sold to Uruguay. Uruguayan manager Hector Solaris reckons he’ll give them ‘that 1954 bite back’. McMenamin learning Spanish.
Tommy McGuigan spotted with a t-shirt which says “Why Always Me?” on the front of it.
Declan O’Sullivan arrives in Derrytresk
Declan O’Sullivan leaves Derrytresk in tears. They were just messing.
Urney have announced they will not be buying anyone in this window. Restless locals storm embassy.
TRANSFER! Colm Cavanagh has been sold to Beragh on a free.
TRANSFER WINDOW SHUT!
County Tyrone GAA fans could be hooked up to wind turbines in an effort to harness the tidal wave of energy in the county created over the comments made by Joe Brolly, the former player and RTE commentator.
Drumnakilly professor of science and inventor Wolfgang O’Neill, said,
“After having observed the gnashing of the teeth, tearing of clothes, frantic text messaging and general wreckin’ about of the typical Tyrone fan brought on by the mere thought of yer man Brolly, I thought to myself, these boys could do wonders if we plugged them into the national grid”.
The negative comments made by Brolly following Tyrone’s quarter-final win against Monaghan brought forth a backlash of anger and resentment amongst Tyrone residents not seen since 1975, when Philomena reached only number 5 in the Irish Charts with Blanket on The Ground.
O’Neill found a way of tapping into the enormous outpouring of fury and anger following Brolly’s comments made about the playing style of Sean Cavanagh during the quarter-final Monaghan v Tyrone match two weeks ago.
“It’s quite straightforward”, said Drumnakilly scientist and inventor Wolfgang O’Neill. “We gaffa-taped a volunteer Tyrone fan from Kildress to a portable generator, showed him a picture of Joe Brolly, and Jaysus, you should have watched the feckin’ thing go. It was generating so much power I thought at one point we were going to go back in time. It nearly melted. There’s nothing more dangerous than an avenged Tyrone fan”.
The Tyrone fan used for the experiment, life-long Tyrone supporter Mark Carlin, a 27 year old hand washer from Tullyallen, said,
“I wasn’t sure at first, especially when they told me where they wanted to stick the adapter to connect me to the generator. But once it was all set up and I saw a picture of that miserable oul’ bollix, I could just feel myself getting the rage, and hey presto, within minutes I had produced enough electricity to watch a whole episode of The Weakest Link. Class”.
Since hooking himself up to the portable generator in his home, Carlin reported that he has managed to make himself toast, boil some spuds, and record Wife Swap, all powered from his own physical convulsions brought on at the mention of Brolly.
O’Neill predicts that one Tyrone fan watching the You Tube clip of Brolly on a continuous loop could power Newmills for a month, whilst a personal appearance by Brolly in the County could keep Pomeroy in electric light for up to a year.
A picture of Jarlath Burns was also tried out but that only made the housewives swoon.
East Tyrone Council last night confirmed that it intends to phase out ‘Kill’ or ‘Kil’ prefixes or suffixes to all place names in Tyrone over the next 12 months, and replace them with ‘something nicer’.
Over-excited councillor Paddy Donnelly explained the thinking behind the idea.
“Places starting with ‘Kill’ is a hangover from the times when people were cuttin’ the lining out of each other during the times of the pollan fish riots and such like. We’re more civilised now. It’s time to move on”.
Pointing out the fact to Donnelly that ‘kill’ is a derivative of the Irish ‘cil’, meaning ‘church’, was met with scepticism.
“What? Don’t take me for a mug. What’s churches got to do with killing each other, except when it comes to getting out the car park after mass on a Sunday? ‘Kill’ frightens young children and old people, plain and simple. I’ve seen pensioners quaking in their shoes walking into Killyman. And what about people’s human rights? They might get all intimidated and start thinking of killing and death and stuff. We’d get the blame if someone suddenly went mental with a big stick in Kildress and slaughtered pets. Or should I say, ‘Quaredress’.
Under the proposal, all place names that start with ‘Kill’ or ‘Kil’ are to be replaced with nicer, more tourist-friendly words. From 1st January 2014 ‘Killeeshil’ is changed to ‘Lovely-leeshil’ and ‘Killyclogher’ becomes ‘Prettyclogher’.
“Think it through”, insisted Donnelly. “Tourists will love coming into Kissyman. We’ll be fightin’ off Americans off with a stick. It sounds deadly. So does Drumnacuddly. If them ones in Derry can mess about with all their ‘London Stroke Derry’ stuff, we can do the same. It’s a winner”.
The initiative coincides with a re-vamp of the Tyrone Tourist Board advertising campaign. The previous slogan which has been used since 1987, ‘County Tyrone: For All Your Bog Requirements’ will be replaced in 2014 with the more welcoming, ‘Come To Tyrone. You’ll Never Get Better’.
A group of European scientists have confirmed that people from Loughmacrory live longer and are also more rampant at night. This revelation came as no surprise to the locals who have kept their longevity and virility a secret for fear of outsiders inter-breeding with them and damaging their golden gene pool. The report also suggested that those who lived on farms in Loughmacrory were particularly romantic at all times in the day. Retired headmaster, Hugh McAleese, admitted that although he was happy to see their name on the world map, he was also wary of boys from Omagh, Tattyreagh or America attempting to attract their girls such was their new-found reputation.
“We’ve known this for years. I’m 121 and have no signs of wear and tear. The average age here is about 76. My father had no record of birth but he reckoned he was over 150 by the time he succumbed to a hunting accident. Although there were only 14 in our family he was said to have fathered 60-odd around the country. He was a farmer and there seems to be a correlation between farming and copulation. Them farming girls would be running around buck naked after lads all time of the day. I think it’s the smell of silage and the noises from the livestock. By all accounts, my da was as randy as they come,” McAleese said before offering a seductive wink.
McAleese put forward his theory that because most farming house had no upstairs, it left the farmers with more energy at night not having to climb a flight of 12 steps or so like those houses in Mountfield or Creggan.
“Speaking from personal experience, I went from a three-story house in Drumnakilly to a small farming bungalow at home after I inherited my father’s farm. The wife saw some change in me. I’d come in at six, slap the dinner into me and sure most of the time we just lay down on the spot. We didn’t know whether we were coming or going with all the antics we’d be at. Long healthy lifestyle, endless horizontal dancing – we’ve the life of it in Loughmacrory. C’mere and give us a kiss ye wee cat.”
The Northern Ireland Tourist Board are looking into the potential of a tourism hotspot for stag and hen nights but are sure to meet resistance in the village. In 1996, a similar attempt to tap into the area’s mysticism saw a government official stripped and superglued to a gable wall outside the pub.
I met a girl in Beragh and she said her name was Sarah,
And I thought she was as fair a lass as ever wore a shoe;
So I went and sat beside her, and with tay and buns supplied her,
And to soften her I tried her with a lozenger or two.
Researching the census back then, we can narrow it down to two Sarahs: Sarah Grimes and Sarah Rodgers. Beragh women were great for tea and buns and it was oft said that that combination usually had the females in the area weak at the knees. Lozengers would be a delicacy in Beragh even yet. This man was no pauper.
Then later I got bolder and I nipped her on the shoulder
O I nipped her and I told her I would take her on my knee;
But she said, “You’ll be in bother, for I’ll go and tell me mother,
I’ll go home and tell me mother if you’re impudent to me.”
Nipping is an old Beragh custom between courting youngsters that still exists today. Usually around the age of 15, a Beragh father will sit down with his son and explain nipping. You only nipped a woman you were prepared to take a box in the face from. You never nipped big girls with strong arms. This rules out Sarah Grimes as she was a Feis arm-wrestling champion in 1923.
But she said it with a twinkle, and a brow without a twinkle,
And her laugh was like a tinkle that invited laughin’ back;
So I started to provoke her, and to hoke her and to poke her,
Till she vowed that I would choke her, and her stays began to crack.
It appears that the narrator was a bit of a nuisance and began poking away at young Rodgers who pretended to be rather affronted. Again, this was extremely civilized behaviour in Beragh, with the girl now being nipped and poked. All part of the mating process down there.
Says I, “Now don’t be silly, I’ve a farm in Drumnakilly,
And the more it may be hilly, there’s a handy bit of bog,
We’ll be happy there together with a bullock in the heather,
And the goat upon the tether and the donkey and the dog.”
This was the clincher for Rodgers. To be offered a farm, a bit of bog, a bullock, a goat, a donkey and a dog was like suggesting a diamond ring made from the most expensive gold in Ireland. There are Beragh women today who believe this was a made-up story like Cinderella or Mary Robinson such is their desire to be even offered a bullock.
Then it wasn’t long we tarried till the two of us were married,
And home the donkey carried us as the presents made a load,
And on them Sarah sittin’ with a clocker and a kitten,
As we jingled like a flittin’ up the Drumnakilly road.
The clocker may have been an instrument Beragh women were given back then to hit their men with if he continued to nip and poke after the initial courting phase. A rolling pin of its day.
But the night was getting chilly when we came to Drumnakilly,
I could hear the bleats of Lily as the graith came off the ass;
Says I, ” I’ll get a bucket, for I dunno how she stuck it.”
So I lifted wan and tuk it up to Lily in the grass.
The graith was a clamping device Beragh men put on their women’s backsides to prevent other suitors from pinching their arse. Even today, Beragh women who are engaged or married wear a graith under their jeans if they head into Omagh for the night.
Well, the goat was very willin’, and the bucket bravely fillin’,
But the milk was nearly spillin’ when I heered an awful squeal,
And then there came a clatter over stones and lyin’ water,
It was Sarah on the batter up the loanan to the field.
On the batter today means drinking heavily. It’s unlikely Sarah would have been necking poitin that early in the relationship. That usually came after the 5th child. Batter here meant roaring and shouting, like a normal housewife in Beragh. Beragh women are said to be the angriest females in Ireland due to the sheer laziness of the men.
She was leppin’ like a lion and her petticoats was flyin’,
She was roarin’, she was cryin’ fit to waken up the dead;
O she come without delayin’, and between the gowls and prayin’
I made out that she was sayin’, “John, the Divil’s in the bed!”
It is obvious here the narrator had a few rivals who were extremely jealous of the marriage. Many men dressed up as devils back then as it was said Beragh women were particularly fond of the dark arts, nipping, poking and being on the batter. Sarah seemed to have a man waiting for her in the bed as the narrator was out milking a goat. With her graith off, she was exposed.
I run in to see the Divil with a mind to spake him civil,
And behold ye Sarah’s Divil was a hairy oul buck goat,
With a smell for human noses that was anything but roses,
And a beard on him like Moses and a dickey at his throat.
The narrator appears to be either naive or unwilling to admit that there’s a good chance that he had his eye wiped just hours after being married. Gortin men were famous for their hairiness and Dickie-bows. Sarah Rodgers may have regretted her decision to turn a blind eye to the hairy devil and enjoy the moment whilst her hard-working husband was out milking the heavy goat, and ran out screaming a batter to make the whole thing look good. The bad smell confirms the man was from the Gortin/Plumbridge area where they ate a lot of wild garlic.
Says I, “Me neighbour Micky must have done it, for he’s tricky.”
But a goat that wears a dickey is a goat I can’t abide,
And because a man that smelled him would incline to do it seldom.
I cut the ropes that held him and I chased the buck outside.
Mickey McVeigh, the neighbour, was a bit of a ladies’ man but it’s unlikely it was Mickey. By this stage he’d been unintentionally castrated by a visiting freak show.
O sometimes me and Sarah dresses up and goes to Beragh,
But she’ll niver let me wear a dacent dickey like the rest,
And the thing that is uncivil is to mention Sarah’s Divil,
The Drumnakilly Divil with the dickey on his chest.
The marriage was a sham. There’s no doubt that the Gortin opportunist had a bit of success with Sarah in the 2-3 minute window he had. The poor narrator was not to speak of the incident again and dicky bows were a no-go area of conversation.