Category Archives: Drumragh
“These courses offer the chance to study the ancient art of Corner Boying and to evaluate its place within our culture. Graduates either become Corner Boys themselves or work in the conservation, promotion, maintenance and rehabilitation of Corner Boys who are already in the field at this time”.
“That is exactly the type of closed-mindedness this course seeks to remedy. Corner Boys don’t stand in fields. They stand on corners in towns and villages and on road-sides and sometimes beside gates. Corner Boys are an ancient band of brothers and sisters who watch over our communities selflessly and ceaselessly…they’re the very fabric of our society yet no one is doing anything to address their startling decline or to defend them against the ridicule and contempt they face every single day”.
“Why wouldn’t they? Some people just aren’t cut out for sitting in an office watching the internet all day pretending to do work…work that no one understands and that doesn’t need to get done. Some people feel the call of the wild, the call of the corner”.
Kevin Donnellan (55), who married his partner after 18 months of romancing, arrived home from work on his first day back at Hoody’s Pub only to find his new bride on her second bottle of vodka with her false teeth sitting on the table beside her, singing sorrowful songs about emigration to America.
“Not only did I not know she drank, I wasn’t aware she didn’t have her own teeth. None of them. But she’s a deadly singer.”
Donnellan revealed it took more than 15 minutes for confirmation that the woman swaying on his settee was the woman he’d married a week ago.
“I noticed a scar she has on her shoulder from when she was bitten there by a mink when fishing near Drumragh in the 70s. I can’t believe I didn’t know she had false teeth. To be fair, I wouldn’t be deadly into the kissing but looking back now I remember hearing a constant clacking sound every time we were at the matinee in the cinema.”
The genial barman also believed his wife was a tee-totaler but also admits he rarely saw his wife-to-be after 6pm since they started courting:
“She told me she’d be deadly tired at 5pm so I’d leave her home and pick her up the next day around 1pm and right enough she always had dark sunglasses on her. I urge all lads to spend a few days with their wives before taking the plunge. You need to have a good look at her first thing in the morning.”
Donnellan has yet to decide whether or not to give up on the marriage at this early stage, adding that she still looked rightly with her teeth out for a 53 year old and if he could get her onto the whiskey it could be something they could share whilst singing about old rebellions and risings.
The news that 11 new super-Councils are to be created throughout Northern Ireland from the existing 26 and that each is to be given extended powers, has resulted in hundreds of people throughout Tyrone believing that the Councils are actually to be granted magical superpowers.
Following the publication at the weekend of a survey by the Irish Council for Statistics, it appears that entire villages have caught the wrong end of the stick, with an alarming 16% of residents believing that council staff might turn into levitating, shape-shifting, fire-breathing oddballs, all at the tax payer’s expense.
56-year old Harry Patterson of Cabragh told us,
“Being given superpowers like time travel and trigonometry and the like is a bridge too far. It’s a breach of my human rights. I don’t want them council ones spying on me when I’m out in the shed doing stuff. Not that I’m doing anything wrong like. And certainly not with that woman from next door. There’s nothin’ wrong with being neighbourly, you know”, he said defensively.
The view was shared by Jacinta Ferguson, a 42-year old housewife from Urney.
“It’s a waste of damn time. I don’t want the council coming round, self-spawning all over my front garden or manipulating gravity and stuff, when all I want is my gutters rodded. They should get their priorities right”.
“If they end up having superpowers like Spider-Man there’s no saying where it could end”, agreed Tony Laverty from Windmill. “We can’t have people suddenly going into slow motion like in ‘The Matrix’ at the drop of a hat, can we? It would be like that TV programme where all them weird-looking hoors have amazing superpowers. ‘Mastermind’, that’s it”.
“We might end up with Barry McElduff waltzing through Carrickmore wearing a Batman outfit, and then where would be?” declared Deirdre Hughes from Drumquin. “I have no wish to see that man in tights, let me tell you that. I’m not making that mistake again. If them councillors want a superpower then they can go and teleport themselves to feck”.
Some were more circumspect, with a keen interest in what the superpowers might be.
“Will you maybe be able to get x-ray vision specs from the council?” enquired a 58-year old man from Trillick who didn’t want to be named. “That would be handy right enough, for, like, all sorts of things. And would you be able to see through like material, like say, I don’t know, clothes and suchlike? Just asking”. He added, “And a couple of them super-strength ones like The Hulk could rightly work some wonders for the St Macartan’s hi. Has anyone told Mickey Harte about this?”
58 year old Rebecca O’Neill from Brantry however was much less positive, snorting,
“They should go and speak to the Roads Department. Have you seen the state of my street? In my opinion they’ve been practising invisibility for bloody years”.
The new councils are expected to come into effect in a few months time.
Following reports of players frozen on the spot and goalkeepers needing two days of defrosting, Tyrone GAA officials announced that they’re to build a massive wall around their GAA facilities in Garvaghey – potentially becoming one of only a few manmade objects visible from space.
Complaints were made by gaels across the county that the new state-of-the-art complex outside Ballygawley was quite possibly the coldest place on the planet, rivalling Alaska, Russia and the Antarctic. An U16 player from Drumragh claims to have stalled mid-air fielding a kick-out and was only thawed into coming down to earth by several team-mates rubbing at his legs furiously.
County official Kieran McNelis informed us:
“Yes, we’re looking for a contractor to oversee the building of a massive quarter mile high wall around the entire complex to keep out the wind-chill from September til April. Only last week we had the terrible situation of an Owen Roes goalkeeper who, during a lull in play, decided to lick the ice off a goalpost and got his tongue stuck to it. Until the warm water arrived he had shipped in 4 goals. We feel that a massive wall would slow down the effects of global warming.”
Seven linesmen were also hospitalised with stiffness and the inability to let their flag go due to early signs of rigor mortis. McNelis added:
“There was also the unfair advantage afforded to Pomeroy and Galbally lads and lassies who revelled in the cold conditions, having acclimatised to mountain life over 1000s of years. Last week Mickey Harte nearly picked the whole Galbally side to play Derry before the penny dropped about the conditions.”
The building of The Great Wall of Garvaghey will commence in September 2014 and finishes in 2020 with Club Tyrone members having the choice of building half of it or doing the cement mixing.
An explosive ‘warts and all’ publication by a Drumragh footballer is predicted to wipe the floor with Owen Mulligan’s best-seller ‘Mugsy’ when it is released this weekend in a shop near Tattyreagh. Barney McLoughlin’s ‘ She’s Mine, Boys‘ tells the story of a season in the full back position for one of Tyrone’s most famous clubs against the backdrop of his attempts to win the heart of local farmer girl who’s only related really far out.
In a coup for Tyrone Tribulations, McLoughlin has allowed us access to his sensational autobiography and we are in a privileged position to leak a couple of mind-boggling extracts to our readers.
FIRST DAY OF TRAINING
Holy Jaysus I did some vomiting there. The boss made us do 2 laps of the field followed by 100 star jumps. We’re not used to this modern hi-tech stuff so the lads are a bit suspicious of boss Maguire. ‘He’s tramping us into shite’ said captain Toner half way through the first lap. We grin and bear it anyway and what keeps me going is the thought that Mary will be in the house treating my da’s veruca in her nurse’s uniform. Even when I’m throwing up I’m thinking of her thick black hair that seems to merge into her skin around her neck, back and front.
AWAY TO BROCAGH
Some bating we took. I think it was 4-23 to 1-1 although the referee gave them everything. We might appeal but the boss always says that. My man scored 4-10. On the way home we had some craic and captain Toner mooned out the window at Owen Mulligan in his garden in Cookstown. As luck would have it, Mugsy was mooning at the exact same time to the Tyrone management team so he completely missed us. Mooning is great and bonds us all together or so Captain Toner says. He takes his trousers off a lot come to think of it.
Took some hiding from Dungannon. I think my man scored 5-12 but I was hung out to dry by the corner backs. I was glad to get home and Mary was treating my father’s bunions. I didn’t know he had any so I’m a bit suspicious now as he’s not related at all to her. I will buy a cord jacket and impress her.
LAST LEAGUE GAME
Took a hiding from Fintona. My man scored 3-11 and was taken off at half time. Didn’t finish bottom though and we’re delighted about that. Christmas tomorrow. We all sang Christmas songs in the showers. Captain Toner went a bit far though and gave half the side a personal rendition of Santa Baby, in the nude. Came home to give Mary her present. Wore my cord jacket. Daddy had lipstick all over his face……
The rest of this riveting autobiography ‘She’s Mine, Boys‘ can be purchased for £19.99 at two or three decent bookstores.
Figures released today indicate that MOT inspectors from various inspection garages across Tyrone are amongst the richest people in Europe, rivalling royalty, Formula One owners and international footballers in terms of take-home pay. The controversial statistics come as no surprise to car owners across the county as evidenced by their attitude towards MOT inspectors.
Paddy Hanna, a Brackaville kite-maker, told us:
“Sure couldn’t I have told you that myself. I was failed last week in the MOT centre in Cookstown for having a dirty wing mirror. I took it back yesterday having washed it and he failed me again for having a car park sticker on the wing mirror that was under the dirt last week. Theiving hoors.”
The Italian newspaper El Papar listed three MOT inspectors from Omagh in category 1, earning anything up to £2m a year after tax. Henry Davidson from Drumragh reckoned that was a conservative sum:
“It’s no secret that these men and women are taking backhanders. I see boys winking and bringing through fleets of old Lithuanian motors, and then handing over a brown envelope. The cars drive straight through and come out the other side within 5 seconds. No stopping. Just a line of continuous traffic. And there’s me watching my car getting jerked all over the shop and failing on an air freshener or something. We’re some mugs.”
The Tyrone MOT Union Rep said boys like Davidson need to be careful about making allegations like that about envelopes:
“We’re as clean as you can get. He has probably seen registrations documents passed over or lunches from mummies or something. We’re just tightening up on the whole dirt thing. Some of the cars knocking about are just balls of muck with an engine in it.”
The next richest group from the county were the water filter sellers from the 80s.
A man from Omagh inadvertently found himself 4,000 miles from home when he got on the wrong flight home and ended up in America.
Seamie Corrigan, an unemployed car mechanic from Drumragh near Omagh, had spent a month travelling around Italy trying unsuccessfully to get work as a part-time bullfighter. In his final few days there he received third degree sunburn, and it is thought that when he bought a ticket at the airport in Rome to return to Ireland, when asked his destination he was in so much discomfort that ‘Omagh’ came out as ‘Oma-haaagh’.
“I made a hames of it so I did”, said a shame-faced Corrigan. “I was killed with the sunburn and all, so by the time I got on the airyplane I was getting tore into the duty free like a man possessed. When I got off at the other end the truth is I was wrote aff. I fell into the taxi and just told yer man to take me to Omagh town centre”.
Asked how soon he realised he was in the wrong continent, an indignant Corrigan replied,
“Incontinent? Watch it ye boy. That was just a wee misunderstanding on the plane. I spilled a glass of water on my trousers, that’s all. Don’t you believe anything different. Anyways, the queues for the bogs on that plane was ridiculous. I was burstin’”.
Looking back, Corrigan realised something wasn’t quite right as soon as he arrived in Omaha in Nebraska.
“I suppose I should have twigged straightaway I wasn’t back in Ireland when it was September and the rain wasn’t throwin’ it down. And the taxi driver was speaking with this really funny accent, saying ‘howdy’ and ‘shucks’ and suchlike, but I just assumed he was from Killeeshil or some place like that”.
The hapless Corrigan only realised the extent of his problem when he went into a local bar to order a drink, and was greeted by a barmaid with a warm and friendly smile who provided prompt and efficient service.
“Ach, Omagh is alright, but some of them wemmin working in the bars have a face like a pishmire. That’s when I knew something had gone badly wrong. And they don’t even have bullfighting in Italy. Some handlin’”.
The incident follows a report just a few weeks ago of a man from the Washingbay area who ended up spending nearly a month in Washington DC before realising he was on the wrong continent over 3,000 miles off course.
ARDBOE: Horse for sale. Looks like a big pony. £400 ono.
URNEY: Have viagra. Need any wemen between 20-70.
KILDRESS: 1988 Porsche, red. Tinted windows. Doesn’t start. £300
DERRYTRESK: Solid pine cabinet. Glass windows. A few cat scratches but the cat was executed. £90
MOY: Unwanted turkey for sale. Perfect for Christmas. Only partially eaten. £30
DRUMRAGH: 2006 Seat Ibiza 1.2, blue. Only 80’000 miles. £3000. Not for sale.
OMAGH: 2002 Hitachi self-cleaning oven. Needs a good clean. £100
BROCAGH: 3 year old Jack Russell. Fine with children. Great poet. £40
KILLYCLOGHER: Lost – black cat with white face and paws. Completely deaf. Answers to Sadie. Big reward.
BALLYGAWLEY: Dyson vacuum cleaner. Like new. Not needed. £200 or £160.
GALBALLY: 7 foot Christmas tree and lights. Beat the queues. Self-collect. Lights not included. £30
AUGHER: Weeding dress. Used once. £700
ROCK: Mixing bowl set designed to please a cook with round bottom for efficient beating. £8
CLONOE: Wanted. Man to take care of cow that does not smoke or drink.
An Ardboe octogenarian created havoc in mid-Ulster yesterday after setting out on a 37 mile journey to Omagh to visit a sister he hadn’t seen since 1988. James ‘Gonzales’ Quinn, a former eel skinner and well known for his speedy knife method, cranked up his 1957 Wolseley for a journey that would hold Tyrone to a standstill as 944 motors found themselves stuck behind him up the Omagh Road for almost four hours. One such driver, Peter Devlin from Carnan, explained:
“Jaysus it was cat. I was also heading to Omagh to pick up a part for a woman’s undergarment when I found myself directly behind Gonzales at the Cookstown roundabout. I remember being stuck behind him in 1996 but overtook him when he stopped the car near the Battery for a bite of a sandwich. This time, he wasn’t stopping. Twice I made the move to go by him only for Gonzales to veer right over the middle lines. Any other man and you’d think he was winding you up. Not Gonzales. He’s just a wild man at the wheel, and him doing 20mph.”
By the time Quinn reached Kildress, a line of 200 cars had formed behind him, mostly at a snail’s pace. One impatient passenger, reportedly a postman from Coagh, took a head stagger and went on a rampaging 70mph bolt up the wrong way, only to be catapulted up a side road towards Greencastle when Gonzales edged out at the last minute. Paddy McCann told us:
“I saw a cavalcade going past the house at Sandholes, so like any other right-thinking man I joined in. The whole family were greatly excited in the motor, guessing away at what the queue was for. I was thinking maybe a bouncy castle at Gortin but the wife was hoping for a half price day at the Centra in Drumragh. It was a bit of a let down that it was only oul Gonzales going up to see the sister. We didn’t reach Omagh til dark.”
Quinn has yet to return as police warn motorists to listen to traffic updates for information on his journey. The PSNI also confirmed they will not be prosecuting the line of toilet-stoppers during the ordeal.
Tyrone officials have scotched rumours that a Galbally 65-year old is to be a surprise inclusion in tomorrow’s team v Donegal, going as far as to say it was “pure balls”. The story that had been doing the rounds in Galbally and Kildress since the start of the week is that Danny Murphy had been called up to the panel because of his ‘long-kicking’ and ‘high-catching’ as well as being ‘crafty’. Murphy himself appears to have done little to rubbish the rumours by raising his eyebrows and saying ‘you never know’ whilst pretending to jog short distances around his garden. Local hedge-cutter, Tom Loughran, still thinks there’s something in it:
“Listen, there’s no smoke without fire. Danny was a deadly footballer in his day and once scored 0-4 from play against Drumragh in 1979, in their field! People say he scored 0-3 with his right leg and headed one over. It’s the stuff of legend around here and he’s never had to buy a pint since, and him a tee-totaller. I’d say Mickey Harte has been a bit worried about the young lads in his panel and has asked Danny to dig him out. I saw him at the sports day last year and he still has a deadly kick on him. There was a stray buck cat annoying people and he ran over and booted it over the pavillion. Wemen swooned.”
Tyrone officials though have played down the rumour and told us to “catch ourselves on” calling the rumour “the biggest pile of dung they’d ever heard”.
“Pure balls. Why the hell would Mickey draft in a 65-year old from Galbally and there’s Mugsy fixing fences with his togs on raring to go? Anyway, Danny’s blind in one eye and has a bad limp. This is just stupid. I’m putting the phone down.”
Danny has refused to confirm whether he’ll be running out onto the Ballybofey turf, simply telling us “when the seagulls follow the boat, it’s because they’d be thinking it’s the right way to go.”
Following the news that people dressed as nuns were caught drinking after-hours in Listowel last July, Killyclogher pub-owner Jessie McGinn claims the fallout and subsequent tightening of nun drinking may force him to close the bar soon due to loss of revenue. Although the Kerry contingent were not real nuns but dressed in the garb for a charity idea, the nuns drinking in Killyclogher are bona-fide members of the Sisters of the Holy Hedge from Donemana who have traditionally used McGinn’s for a ‘good oul blow-out’ at the weekends and sometimes during the week. Sister Cecilia has no doubt that the Kerry escapade has impacted on their libation habits:
“I know it was for charity and I suppose that’s a good thing, but them lads in Listowel have given the powers that be here to clamp down on our running about and general galavanting. To be brutally honest, we’re totally pissed off. For years we’ve been heading down to McGinn’s on a Friday and drinking the bit out til Sunday at least. Sister Concepta is deadly on the Karaoke, singing stuff by Kurt Cobain or ACDC. The lads here think we’re great craic and a wee bit of innocent flirting with nuns of all ages is the only excitement they get down here. It was a win-win situation for everyone but now that’s all changed because of them winos down in Kerry. This weekend we had to sit in and watch The Late Late Show, supping on Ribena. Eff me pink like.”
Jessie McGinn says last weekend’s profits took a serious downtown, coupled with the general pessimistic mood of the lads who were missing the women and their flying habits and the woman who sings ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’.
“I’ll give it another week and if I don’t see an upturn in takings then big decisions need to be made. There is a group of women from the Drumragh Book Club and we’ll be trying to entice them down here for a feed of drink but it’s hard to see them being the same craic as the Holy Hedge girls.”
The Sisters of the Holy Hedge was founded in 1967 when someone spotted a hedge that looked a bit like Pope Urban VIII on the Gortin Road.