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Aughnacloy Building Firm Admit To Using Frozen Trifle Instead Of Bricks
The future?
Gildernew’s Building Supplies have admitted that they attempted to cut costs by using frozen trifle and jelly to build a new estate out the Monaghan Road last year. Suspicions were raised when house-owner Kieran Copney noticed his children licking the walls more often than what would be usual in South Tyrone. After further investigation, the Copneys discovered other shortcuts had been made in a desperate attempt by Gildernew’s men to save money during these times of austerity.
”Holy God. Bricks made of trifle. Have you ever heard of that before? Only in Aughnacloy. To give them their credit they seem to have made a quare job of freezing it permanently and soothing out any wobbliness. And in the summer time there was a gentle whiff of whipped cream and custard which disguised any natural wind breakage from the wife and children. But, they could have told us like. The cement seems to be made from porridge and Ready Brek too.”
Building Control have made further investigations into the affair and released some startling discoveries:
”After a thorough investigation, it appears that some of the rafters in the attics were made from solid French loaves, filled with some kind of polyfill. Many of the windows were plastic with cling-film over it to give off a sparkly kind of look. It was some job.”
Gildernew’s issued a statement today defending their choice of building materials, even going on the offensive regarding other dubious practices from rival firms.
”If those children hadn’t started licking all the walls, familes on the Monaghan Road would’ve lived in domestic bliss without knowing the truth. Now they’re expecting an interior wall to start wobbling at any moment. It’s all psychological. This sort of practice has been going on for years. I know of a B&Q out near Omagh that sold sheds made out of out-of-date tortillas. There’s a housing estate in Coalisland made from liquorice.”
Moortown Woman “Put Manners On Husband” By Locking Him In Byre For 48 Hours
Artist’s impression of Sunday night
A Moortown teacher, Bernie Corkery (nee Quinn), has been hailed as a hero after she locked her husband in a byre for two days following a domestic argument last weekend. Neighbours reported ‘shouting and roaring’ emanating from the Battery Road abode on Sunday night after her Cork-born husband Fonsie Corkery returned home after midnight having attended the Tyrone-Cork game earlier in the day. Reports suggest Corkery stopped off in Quinns and then the Battery Bar itself before returning home in high spirits following the comprehensive rebel victory over the Red Hands. Bernie’s sister, Jackie Quinn, maintains the Cork man had it coming:
“Ah sure, too good for him says I. She should’ve kept him in the byre til the weekend. He’d been crowing away down at the Battery singing about Skibbereen and A Rebel Heart. A couple of the Devlins needed held back from boxing the ears off him but they gave him a fool’s pardon in the day that was in it. I knew our Bernie wouldn’t. That woman should get some kind of recognition for tying that bastard up with the cattle til Tuesday. Fair play to her. It’ll put manners on him.”
Friends of Corkery arrived at the house on Tuesday morning as he hadn’t appeared at the Whist Night in the club the night before. It was only when they heard the gentle whining that they investigated the byre itself. Tony Hurson explained:
“It was some sight, ghost-oh. The cattle were licking away at his head, with the smell rather rancid. A bit extreme I thought from Bernie. She has a fierce temper on her though and with him in a bullish mood after the Cork massacre in Omagh as well as being well-oiled from the stout in Quinns, it was a lethal concoction. I thought I heard screaming coming from their place on Sunday night but thought she was just dishing out a few slaps. I didn’t know she’s tie him up out here.”
Dubliner John McGregory, married to Bernie’s sister Tamsin, says he’ll play it down if the Dubs win this weekend.
Omagh Newspaper Staff Face The Sack. Hiding Culture Exposed.
Business editor hiding
The entire staff of an unnamed newspaper with offices based in Omagh are facing the axe after a rebel investigative journalist uncovered a culture of hiding from the boss whilst on duty. The renegade hack, a former employee of the newspaper group in question, managed to collate video and photographic evidence of the mass skiving which will form the basis of an exclusive documentary that will be aired on mainstream TV next summer.
“Finally got the bastards,” Deckie Brogan told us, “but I wasn’t aware at the extent of it all. I caught a Stewartstown employee, laden with awards and all, and he was hiding out in the boiler house behind the car park with a mattress, pillow and mini-TV with freeview. The owners thought he was out sourcing stories on farming. He was getting them on the Internet the night before. Then there was a boy from Beragh who was hiding behind a skip in the town when he was meant to be at football matches getting reports. He’d set an alarm to go off about fifteen minutes before the the end of the working day, check the scores on Twitter and go back to the offices looking foundered for effect. It was widespread.”
Fermanagh man Brogan will also relate the story of a Derry journalist who insisted on wearing dark glasses supposedly because of the glare of the screen. He simply slept with his hands on the keyboard. An Armagh employee, who was meant to be sourcing articles on fashion trends, would leave the office at half nine, check into the Silver Berch Hotel and read the Ulster Tatler for a few hours. One of the journalists who was caught redhanded admitted:
“Ah Jeepers, I’m done for now. It’s a sad state of affairs that a private sector worker can’t hide but that’s a sign of the times. I might as well get another job that I can do a bit of skiving in. Teaching maybe.”
The newspaper are asking readers to text in their choice as to who should be sacked first. Texts cost £2.
First Obese Man In Gortin ‘Ashamed’. Pledges To ‘Cut Down’
Man in Gortin today
With the recent news that sixty–four people in NI are currently claiming incapacity benefit because they are too obese to work, one man from Gortin has come forward to confirm that he, in fact, is one of the three from Tyrone included in the above investigation. Johnny Coyle, a 31-year old ex-timber merchant from the village, says obesity sort-of crept up on him out of nowhere and blames the foreigners for opening their delicious outlets in the greater Omagh area.
“Jaysus I’m tara embarrassed. I knew I’d put on a lock of pounds after everyone stopped buying timber from the yard in favour of them straw bales and I had to retire, but little did I know I’d actually ballooned to 31 stone from my fighting weight of 13 stone. I knew a couple of chairs had broken over the last year but I just put that down to shoddy workmanship in Fermanagh. The bed collapsing should have been a tell-tale sign. It wasn’t until I got stuck in the doorway of Mossey’s Bar back toilet that I couldn’t ignore the truth. I’d been eating too much. The government came around to weigh me and told me what I already knew. I’m the first obese person in Gortin. Stop eating or I won’t get a woman they said.”
Coyle has made it his goal to find out where the other two obese people in Tyrone are so he can set up an Eaters’ Anonymous Society. He also also promised to cut down on the Chineses, Indians, pic ‘n’ mix from Centra and the thrice daily fries.
“My runners have told me there may be a middle-aged woman in Brocagh and a young lad in Trillick around the same size as myself. I’d have to be sure though. You’d get some abuse if you asked the wrong person if they were obese. I’m just looking for moral support as we begin our descent towards an acceptable level of heaviness. It’s all about what you eat. A gradual change in lifestyle should do the trick. For breakfast, instead of the 5 bacon, 9 sausage, biscuits, gravy, cream hotcakes, dozens of scrambled and fried eggs and pounds upon pounds of melted cheese with ice cream on Fridays, cut out the ice cream on Fridays.”
The Gortin Pioneers’ Society released a statement saying they wholeheartedly supported Johnny but that you’d think he’d learn the lessons from his da who died after choking on a Frankfurter in 2001.
Priest Lambasts “Strictly” From Omagh Pulpit
The Father’s Favourite
Father Roger Hughes, one of the longest serving priests in the Omagh area, has criticised the long-running dancing show on the BBC – Strictly Come Dancing – for its promotion of short frocks and unnecessary gyrations.
Fr Hughes, who won the Omagh Multi-Faith Jazz-Hands dancing competition earlier in the year, claims that the negative effect can be seen in the discos across Tyrone which he attends to make sure the young people aren’t having too much fun, as ‘pain and misery’ gets you closer to eternal bliss.
“I’ve been watching this year’s programme in order to gain tips for next year’s Jazz Hands competition as there’s talk of that young shower of priests entering straight out of Maynooth. All I’ve seen is blades’ knickers as they buck leap across the floor being lifted by big tanned men with questionable sexuality. Last week I saw a blondy girl and I had to re-watch the same clip about 50 times to see if she was actually wearing a skirt at all. Almost broke the Sky box. I phoned the BBC up and said thon girl needs a good long coat on her. I saw the next day she was voted out so my words didn’t fall on stony ground.”
Fr Hughes proceeded to light on X-Factor saying is was a “load of balls, even worse than that Eldorado programme from a few years ago” and that Simon Cowell should be “shot with a ball of his own shite”.
Hughes’ maid, 23-year old former page-3 girl Hillary McCann from Galbally, said she thought the Father was exaggerating a bit:
Sure I see him smirking away to himself and rubbing his knees, especially when his favourite dancer Natalie Lowe is on although he says bad things when her celeb partner gets too frisky.
Harte Worried About Mugsy And Crisps
With the recent news surrounding Tyrone GAA’s new sponsors, Mickey Harte has expressed fears that the new partnership may play havoc with his plans to keep tabs on members of the squad who ‘winter too well’ over the non-footballing months. With Kevin Hughes retired, initial hopes were that the Hunky Dory freebies would remain largely untouched, enabling Harte and the squad to deliver the crisps to the less fortunates in Brocagh, Eskra and Dregish. However, all changed with a phone-call the management team received last night from a Healy Park attendant.
“At first I thought it was a wind-up,” an anonymous official told us, “as it was wile cold last night. But I could hear the lads codding about in the background. It didn’t take long to identify the voices: Mugsy, Joe McMahon, Gavin Devlin, big Pascal and Cathal McCarron. The poor Omagh gatekeeper said they were demanding to get training at the field in preparation for next year, even though we’ve given them time off til St Stephen’s Day. The penny soon dropped with me. Them bloody crisps.”
Harte and his team made their way to Omagh only to be confronted by the hungry fivesome, McCarron doing the talking, not a kitbag between them, demanding to hear the full details of the sponsorship deal and when the first batch would be arriving. Negotiations went well into the night with threats of resignations and counter-threats of walking from the panel before McCarron persuaded the others to accept the only deal on the table: 50 packets each for the months of November and December with a renegotiation in January, as long as the other squad players weren’t aware of it, especially Colm Cavanagh and Marty Penrose who also ‘winter well’ at the best of times.
Penrose, in particular, is reported to be devastated that they didn’t pursue his idea of a dream deal with Milky Bars or Snickers.
Penrose and Milky Bars
Omagh Teacher Goes Berserk. Pupil Steals Orange.
The orange looked like this
Omagh teacher Barry Trainer was said to be ‘livid’ today after finding out that some boy had stolen his orange from his desk whilst he was out making coffee in a resource room. An fellow staff member who wishes to remain anonymous said Barry ‘wasn’t himself all day’ after the incident and the senior teachers are trawling through CCTV footage in the corridors in order to spot someone who looks like he has an orange in his blazer.
“Jaysus, Barry was rippin,” Mr X told us. “I’ve known ‘Baldy Bollocks’ (as the lads call him) for 15 years now and he has always eaten an orange at break time in the staffroom. I knew something was up when I heard the roar coming from his classroom. The look of fear off the lads’ faces when they left the room was something I hadn’t witnessed since 1985 and the dying throes of corporal punishment.”
Trainer noticed the orange was missing after he returned from topping up his coffee during a lesson on ‘adding’. After searching under his desk he was alerted to the prank when half the class were heard sniggering. Despite threatening the lads with ‘sorting them out’ if he ever saw any of them out and about Omagh at the weekends, none of the pupils touted on the devilish thief. The Principal, Monsignor Joel Brannigan, said no stone would be left unturned in the wake of this unusual incident.
“There’s no doubt that the orange thief will be caught. It might take time but someone will eventually squeal. I’ve already set the wheels in motion with an immediate ban on Wagon Wheels at the tuck shop. There aren’t many in Omagh who can go a day without a Wagon Wheel, with it full of chocolately delight. CCTV will help too.”
Trainer has vowed to take time off with ‘stress’ until the culprit is caught. Some retired teacher will take his place.
All-Ireland Final – A View From Tyrone
Tyrone Tribulations took a tour around the country this morning to catch people just walking about. We asked them for their views on today’s All-Ireland final between Mayo and Donegal.
Are Tyrone definitely not in it? In that case I’ll be watching the Eastenders Omnibus. It hasn’t been the same since Peggy Mitchell left. She was some blade. Took no crap. Reminded me of Mickey Harte without the stubble. JAMES MCCANN, Drumragh
I’m going for Mayo. There’s something about McGuinness that unnerves me. Some say he looks like Jesus. I see the buckin devil. Those big thick eyebrows. His eyes are dead inside, like Jaws in Jaws 1 and 2. The wife’s fond of him but she also had a notion for Pete McGrath and Sean Boylan so it seems to be a management thing. I’ve applied for a management job at Moy Park. Maybe that’ll rekindle the romance. JOHN MOORE, Edendork
I couldn’t give two fooks. HENRY MCGUIGAN, Ardboe
Ah, I’ll be supporting Donegal. Them big strapping lads like Murphy and McFadden I could watch all day long. Young McHugh and Lacey mightn’t be as easy on the eye but sure look at the ugly fcukers we have in Tyrone. I’d tackle livestock before curtin a Tyrone man. JENNY ARCHER, Dungannon
And I’ll tell you another thing. Shove that microphone in my bake again and you’ll be pulling it out of your hole. Ye hear me? Now fook away aff. HENRY MCGUIGAN, Ardboe (again)
To tell you the truth I’ll not be watching it atall. I’d be big into the religion now and I don’t think people should be playing things are enjoying themselves on a Sunday. I’ve just come back from tying up all the swings in the local play park. God be with you. CECIL WINTERBOTTOM, Tullyhogue
Donegal – no doubt. I’ve seen enough from that day they met us earlier in the year. You shoulda seen the size of their teeth and ears. Their eyes bulged and they were at least 1-2 feet taller than our lads. Penrose looked like a gnome. I’m not saying they’re completely off their heads on steroids but there’s something they’re eating and we need the recipe. Some big mad fecking new spud or something. Donegal by 17 points. PETER RYAN, Omagh
Ach probably Mayo but here listen, were there any cops up the road? The bastards were dipping last night in Donemana I heard. GARY MULGREW, Loughmacrory
Tyrone To Sell Off Castlecaulfield
Castlecaulfield RIP
The Tyrone Council sparked outrage in parts of the county today when they announced they are to sell off Castlecaulfield to the highest bidder in an attempt to ‘make a bit of money’. The news came as a shock to the inhabitants of the sleepy Tyrone village who were still celebrating their joint third place in the 2011 Ulster in Bloom competition, beaten only by Keady and Swatragh. In a statement released this morning, the Tyrone Council’s Petsey McCann explained the decision:
“People don’t realise who much money it costs to keep Tyrone in the manner they’re accustomed to. They look around and think it’s a great place altogether. Well, we’ve news for them. It doesn’t buckin keep itself. When everyone’s in bed we’re out mowing hedges in Galbally, removing cow clap from the roads in Derrytresk and painting over teenage graffiti in Omagh. The diesel money alone is crucifying us. The red stuff isn’t as cheap as it was and running the engine on cooking oil was attracting large rodents like badgers after dark. One of our volunteers was attacked by a mink in Creenagh. We had to sell a bit to make ends meet and sure some people think Castlecaulfield is a mythical place like hell.”
Residents in Castlecaulfield see it differently. One local, Mary Rankin, told us she wasn’t surprised about the decision.
“Ah holy Jaysus. It’s come to this, has it? I knew those shower a bastards would sell us off. There’s been no Interent here since 2010. They’ve been trying to break us for years and now they’ve taken the cowardly way out. Well, I can tell you this. We’re not going down without a fight. I don’t care if the Vatican buys us. There will be blood! I’ll bate the bollocks clean off any foreigner who thinks he owns me.”
McCann intimated that there has been a few interested buyers already with McDonalds, Louis Walsh, Big Tom, Richard Branson, Rich Tea Biscuits and Sean Quinn mentioned as potential purchasers. All Castlecaulfield members of the Tyrone GAA county teams at every level were told not to show their face again at training, whilst election voting privileges were withdrawn. The word Castlecaulfield has also been outlawed.
Loughmacrory Didn’t Know Making Poitin Was Illegal
A typical Loughmacrory working day
A successful raid on most homes in Loughmacrory late last night has proven fruitless despite the discovery of 48 poitin-making distilleries within a two-mile radius. This morning, the judge accepted the unanimous defence plea that they didn’t know what they were doing was illegal. The midnight swoop caught most of the townland on the hop with the PSNI quoting up to 6000 litres of the homemade alcohol retrieved. They had been tipped off by the loose talk around Omagh regarding a permanent state of happy drunkiness in Loughmacrory as well as a persistent alcoholic haze in the general area.
“I’d just finished brewing my 6th bottle of the night and was about to shut up shop when the peelers burst in,” a local cat castrator told us. “I thought they were here for the poaching but they just starting lifting the drop of the hard stuff. I told them it was £7 a bottle and the main man told me not to be cheeky. How were we to know it was illegal? I’d never saw no adverts on it and it isn’t in the ten commandments.”
At the trial this morning it soon emerged that no one in Loughmacrory thought it was outside the law. One mother told the judge that she’d often send her children to school with a pinch of poitin in their flasks “cos it was cheaper than diluted juice”. The jury took no time to decide that the locals should be given a by-ball as long as they all undertake a course in what’s lawful in today’s society.
Judge McGrath concluded:
“It is abundantly clear now that Loughmacrory has been overlooked when it comes to the rules and regulations of law abiding citizenship. Further investigations have shown up no pre-conception of car insurance, road tax, land laws, tv or dog licensing, VAT and every other government tax going. It really is the back-end of beyond, time-locked in a period perhaps before Christ himself. All families will undertake a 12-week induction into normal day-to-day life in the 21st century.”
He added that their skills were above average as he had sampled the poitin himself and that it “wasn’t bad at all for seven quid“.
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.
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.
Loughmacrory Man Caught With Clear Diesel
Shamed Loughmacrory surgeon Peter Whittle has vowed to clear his name after being accused of using clear diesel in his Vauxhall Zafira on the Omagh to Cookstown road last month. In the first of its kind in the greater Loughmacrory area, Whittle was dipped as he made his way to Cookstown to buy a pair of ill-fitting jeans for a dance from a Pakistani merchant on one of the stalls at the world-famous market, and was found to be completely innocent.
“I was being flashed at by cars for about half a mile so I slowed right down to 80 thinking them bastards had the hair drier out. It wasn’t until the traffic came to a standstill that I realised they were dipping. My life flashed before my eyes as I knew I was on the clear, legit stuff.”
Whittle was clean, unfortunately
For fear of serious slagging if the word ever got out, the Loughmacrory medic tried everything to convince the PSNI that he was a hardcore red-diesel dealer in order to save face.
“I threw everything at them. I even gave them the address of my farmhouse hidden around the back of my garage which is packed to the rafters with red, green and all manner of dyed fuel even though I own no agricultural machinery at all. I fix legs for feck sake. I also admitted I was making poitin and was, in fact, half-cut at the time. They just laughed and said ‘you’re clean’ and told me to drive on. Most of Loughmacrory were pulled over at the side of the road and getting details taken. They just shook their heads as I drove past. I was mortified. In order to mend my family’s fine name, never again will I go legit.”
Whittle’s immediate family refused to comment but one uncle did remark that he wasn’t surprised at the news as “young Peter was always a bit odd like that. The sort of boy who never worked whilst signing on. Wouldn’t marry the cousin. His shame knows no bounds.”
Omagh Banshee Retires
One of the last banshees in the county, the Omagh Banshee, yesterday announced her retirement from general ghouling and wailing in the Omagh area after weeks, if not months, of unsuccessful spooking at night. The ‘woman of the fairymounds’ had serviced the greater West Tyrone area since the Battle of the Yellow Ford in 1598 before concentrating on the county’s capital after the Home Rule Bill of 1886. Recently, though, she had been making sporadic appearances as rumours persisted of ill-health and deteriorating mental capacities.
“The time has come to hang up the comb,” the Omagh Banshee (known as the Oul Hoor in Omagh) told us on a frequency picked up on an old CB. “People are living longer and I’m sitting there whiling away the time hoping for an illness or two to savage a family. There bes days when I just take a chance and yap away outside a house in the hope that by sheer luck someone croaks it. Taking those chances were wrong and I’m just another failed run-of-the-mill mythological Irish spirit”
The Oul Hoor, depressed, yesterday
The Oul Hoor has been suffering greatly from arthritis because of the recent wet summers, making her existence a miserable all-year round affair now.
“It’s just not worth it. My once frightening keen is now like a kettle whistling. The young’uns just fire bottles and shoes at me as they see all the horror movies they want now. I’m just a joke to them. I blame the parents. In their day all I had to do was leave a comb lying about and they’d have nightmares for months. The only way to frighten youngsters now is to steal their computer games or iPhones. I might be a maggot-ridden fictional miserable old woman, but I’m not a thief.”
The Oul Hoor plans to spend her retirement playing bowls and hanging out with Finn McCool, Cathleen Ni Houlihan and Cuchulainn.
Tyrone Tribulations 