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Ardboe Man Arrested For Directing Traffic Away From The Village
Ardboe poet, James Coyle, was seeking bail this evening after being arrested for illegal traffic directing near his own house, for the last four weeks. The frustrated writer admitted to buying “one of them luminous yellow work jackets and trousers” and getting up at 7am each morning to stop all traffic from driving through the centre of Ardboe for 28 consecutive days.
“I had a fair idea something was wrong,” local shopkeeper Henry Coney told us. “I hadn’t seen a car since August and had only sold 20 Irish News, 16 pan loaves, 3 bulbs and a few litres of milk since school started. I knew James was annoyed that no one had attended his open house poetry reading session in The Battery but what did he expect? The last poet in Ardboe was chased out of it for coming over that oul fancy talk. There’s no place for that here. Ghost oh, sure Heaney wouldn’t last thirty seconds here.”
Coyle at work
A close relative of Coyle told us of James’s recent heartache in recent months and can understand why he decided to deprive the rest of Ardboe of any trade.
“Coyle wasn’t good at the fishing and was fired from his job working for Quinn Construction because he couldn’t dig a hole. He’d also been turned down repeatedly by Cookstown District Council after applying for a fuel hardship grant, dog kennel registration, pig-letting license and a caravan site application. Then he took to writing poems and sent a hand-written invite to every house in Ardboe for a reading session in the pub and no one turned up. The Battery’s usually full on a Friday too.”
It now seems that Coyle decided if he wasn’t earning any money then the rest of Ardboe’s business people wouldn’t get a penny either. By simply standing on the road in to the village every morning with a shovel, yellow jacket and a stop sign, he directed every motor towards Brocagh since the 27th of August. He was arrested when, whilst he took a toilet break, the postman finally broke through to find out the roads were in perfect working order. Police arrived before he was almost lynched by local tradesmen who shouted abuse at him such as ‘the oul poety bollocks’ and ‘typical of them there Coyles’. The trial continues.
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.
Brocagh Man Admits To Having TV Licence
A Brocagh badger-catcher has stunned the loughshore diaspora when he admitted after a few pints in the Emmets clubrooms that he has a TV licence at home sitting on the mantlepiece. The astonishing admission came after a truth or dare session between a few men and women after a local bowling club dinner dance. In surreal scenes later that night, over a dozen drunken locals arrived at Pat Bucker’s abode looking to see proof of the remarkable claim.
Barman at the Emmets told our reporter:
“There was just a bit of craic going on, you know, the same oul shit-talk. Women were standing up saying mad things like they used to wink at the priest in the front row at Mass to see if he’d drop the chalice or the like. It was harmless stuff. The bowling captain has just admitted that he cleaned his arse one time with the Irish News and still read it after, when Bucker got up and shouted ‘I have a TV licence’. There was a stunned silence. Pint glasses crashed to the ground. One elderly woman fainted into the PP’s arms. I almost soiled myself. We’d never heard the like around Brocagh.”
Will this man venture into Brocagh?
There was disbelief as people waited to be told by Bucker that it was a wind-up. When it became clear that the badger-killer was serious, things threatened to turn ugly.
“Men were needing to be held back. Chairs were crashing through the window. I thought fatalities were a cert at one stage. A biggish dog was kicked straight at Bucker. Men and women were very angry that Bucker had gone against a century-long tradition in the area and that he was showing the lot up with his lawful compliance.”
Temperatures soon cooled afterwards when they visited the Bucker household for proof. Mrs Bucker answered the door and when told of the commotion she ordered her husband to “get the feck up thon stairs” and that the licence on the mantlepiece was actually the instructions for assembling the TV bracket on the wall that “the lazy good-for nothing drunken clift hadn’t even attempted since we got it a year ago“.
Tyrone Tribulations 