Marriage counsellors have been described as being ‘flat out’ this weekend across the county as marital squabbles have more than trebled due to families being cooped up because of the recent poor weather conditions.
Reports of loud shouting and blatant huffing prompted relationship experts to descend on various locations with ‘nasally breathing’ being the number one irritant for many wives.
Susie Banchy from Augher explained:
“If I hear that bollocks breathing one more time I swear I’ll swing the boot at his head. Maybe he’ll stop then. This snow is a disaster. I can’t even get peace in my bedroom for one of the young ones jumping on my head looking for something to eat. Tomorrow can’t come quick enough.”
In Omagh, a game of Pictionary ended abruptly in three ambulances being called within a two-hour period after husband and wife Peter and Mary Toal were paired in the same team for the fifth time. Asked to draw an umbrella, Mr Toal’s poor artistry again left his wife of 23 years seething after he drew what looked more like a tractor.
Marriage counsellors have advised families to sit in different rooms today and bide their time until the snow melts and school recommences tomorrow.
Reports from the Moy yesterday confirmed that a local man has admitted defeat and finally consigned his snow shovel to the back of the shed.
47-year old Iggy McGeary, a brick polisher from the Moy, expressed his disappointment at the arrival of March and the milder weather, but accepted that his brand new plastic snow shovel, purchased from Capper Fuels in autumn last year for £12.99, will now be relegated from its state of readiness outside the back door, to the rear of the shed next to the broken trampoline and the stick used for stirring paint.
“I’ve been looking forward to redding the path since last October”, McGeary lamented. “For the first time in years I was properly prepared. I had thon shiny new snow shovel, and a brand new pair of insoles for my wellies out of Costcutters. And then how much snow do we get all winter? Hee-haw, that’s how much. It’s a disgrace. I blame Barry McElduff and all that lot with their cost cuttings and budget savings, not wanting to pay for the gritting lorries and snow ploughs and such like”.
A self-confesses fresh air freak, McGeary maintains that his fondness of snow is shared around the neighbourhood.
“It’s not just me that misses it. All the kids round here love it. Remember we had over half foot of the stuff just a couple of years back? Lasted for days. My three cubs love it, and so does my wife. I heard her reminiscing on the phone last night to her pal, saying that it’s been ages since she woke up to a good six inches at her back door. And she’s right an’ all. I remember the days of proper snow, up to the top of the hedgerows. In June. Deadly”.
McGeary faced criticism from social services in 2008 during heavy snow when he took his family out for a snowball fight, including his 88-year old mother-in-law, Kitty.
“Ach, all that was exaggerated. Damp feet and soggy gloves were the worst of it really. Big deal. And how was I to know pacemakers were susceptible to the cold? She should have mentioned it. And once her artificial hip thawed out she was grand. It was a mighty day. Nothing wrong with a bit of fresh air and a plump of the white stuff”.
McGeary was last spotted by neighbours late yesterday evening, standing at the foot of his garden holding a bag of salt and squinting hopefully into the sky.
A leaked document this morning has indicated that the Pomeroy Village Council (PVC) met up on Sunday morning to draw up armageddon proposals if the snow didn’t thaw any time soon. With all roads leading out of the quiet townland looking increasingly impassable due to the heavy drifting, the secret council met up after Mass and laid down a two-point plan in case of a worst-case scenario. They were as follows:
1. If the roads become totally impassable for more than 24 hours, a time capsule is to be filled with remnants of what life was like in Pomeroy in 2013. Suggested contents included an xbox, a Dandy yoyo, Pomeroy GAA togs, a bit of the mountain, a Wispa, a piece of hair, the Irish News and Philomena Begley.
2. The human race to be kept going as long as possible. This might necessitate eating each other. Everyone over the age of 18 is to write an essay on why they think they should not be eaten. The authors of the worst essays as judged by the council will be slaughtered and fed to the youngsters and babies as they have longer to live and might survive long enough for it to thaw. The council members will only be considered for consumption when everyone else over 18 has been eaten.
The PVC were quick to play down the meeting and its contents today. Danny Devlin, chairperson, stated:
“Ah we got a bit carried away on Sunday morning. The snow flakes were deadly and cars were queued from the bottom of Pomeroy Street to the Bawn Orange Hall. I admit we panicked. I would like to assure the people of Pomeroy that no one will be eaten. All roads seem to be open. In fact none were closed at any stage really. We’ve made a hames of this. Sorry.”
Calls for the PVC to resign en masse have fallen on deaf ears. Devlin laughed when it was put to him and muttered “I’d like to see them try make us” whilst menacingly reaching into his coat pocket and winking.
A Greencastle unicycle mechanic, Tommy Tracey, has warned locals that he’ll “mow the head clean off” anyone who mentions anything to do with the weather for the foreseeable future. Tracey, who was arrested three years ago for firing a volley of snowballs at a stranger who wished him a ‘Merry Christmas’ in Omagh, announced his decision in Eddie’s Bar last night.
“I’m sick of that crap. Every day it’s ‘Jays it’s a cold wan’ or ‘gives it bad tomorrow’. Is there nothing else to talk about? Horse borgers, the Superboul, Tulisa’s skirt – there’s loads going on out there. But not here in Greencastle. It’s rain this, snow that. I can’t give two fecks if you’re foundered or sweltering. The next person who mentions anything to do with the weather in my vicinity will have their features rearranged, permanently. I mean it.”
Tommy didn’t stop at that and proceeded to list a plethora of topics which are now banned whilst in his company:
“Distance. I don’t care how far it is from Greencastle to Moortown avoiding the Omagh Road. Last week I said to a lad in the bar that I was thinking of going to Belarus this summer. You know what he said? “What road would you take out to that?” We’re obsessed with distances, roads and the weather. And just to reiterate – no happy birthdays or any seasonal greetings in my company. Happy birthday my hole. As if they give a feck about how happy I am on my birthday. I never get people asking me how happy it was after it is over. Save your buckin breath will yiz.”
A group of lads from Kildress are reportedly gearing up to torture Tracey this weekend at the senior friendly between the sides by talking about the weather, distances and roads whilst greeting each other at regular intervals.