Guard cat on duty!
Don’t let her apparent harmlessness fool you.
Complacency will be your last mistake. Ever.
The Yaris, this loaded weapon, has once again received the highest accolade: the Trip Advisor Certificate of Excellence 2016.
Sample of user reviews:
8/10 – “I can’t quite afford the Nissan Leaf, aka the Silent Killer, but this is the closest I can get to a weapon of mass destruction. Ageing technology but it still gets the job done: scored 12 hits on my way back from Tesco last Tuesday”
Margaret Kinahan – Baldoyle
9/10 – “Can’t beat the good aul Yaris. Still has tons of street cred. The kids in my estate shit themselves when they hear me revving the beast at 8,000 rpm in second gear as I attempt to leave my driveway. Wouldn’t give it up for love nor money.”
Bridget Murphy – Cabinteely
10/10 – “Yaris rulz ok! Them losers in Nissan Micras don’t have a shaggin clue. The Yaris always wins in the pedestrians per mile contests. It’s a beast!”
Dervla Connolly – Bray
9/10 – “Love my Yaris, love it. It feels like it can read my mind. It is me and I am it. It’s like an extension of my own body. It is my fists for pounding, my forehead for head-butting, my feet for kicking.”
Bernadette Riley – Finglas
11/10 – “Best navigation system in the world. When I get plastered with the girls after Bingo, it always gets me back home. I got mine in red, the blood marks from felled pedestrians are less noticeable.”
Fionnuala O’Malley – Ballybough
9/10 – “Deadly! Fookin’ deadly! Quite literally”
Molly Byrne – Crumlin
Agatha was wondering what was the point of wearing secret sexy Christmas underwear if Diarmuid was going to stand beside her all the time while she was selecting it.
One thing was sure, she would not repeat last year’s mistake. She was definitely going for virginal white this year. Last Christmas’ flesh colour number failed to bring Diarmuid to that point of no return when the animal instinct takes over and caution is thrown to the wind and one no longer cares about the prospect of pine needles or shards from broken baubles stuck in one’s arse.
She would this year manage to reignite the throes of passions.
I sometimes wonder how long it would take for the vegetation to take over Dun Laoghaire.
Mind you, I’d rather not see this scenario in my lifetime.
We do however already have a couple of howling monkeys. They can produce some rather unnerving sounds after sniffing a few canisters of Zippo Premium Butane Fuel
I went on a date today.
To the Met. With Pepe. To see Don Giovanni.
Not the actual Met in Noo Yoke. No.
More like the local cinema in Dun Laoghaire. With 270 geriatechnophiles who all lapped up the performance beamed live from the Met.
I was easily the youngest person in the theater. By several decades.
I loved it.
The sound was great.
The performance was great.
The production was superb.
The people watching was second to none.
I was particularly impressed by the two grannies who looked like they were going to come to blows, over the unopened box of Ferrero Rochers that each insisted the other had to take back home.
I would have liked to see how the situation developed but Pepe was eager to get to the car park.
I soon understood why. Dozens of Micras packed to the roof with dolled up grannies were revving likes chariots from hell in the multi-storey adjacent to the cineplex.
It was scary. Very scary.
Oops shite, no. Not the big ale. Unfortunately. But THE BIG SHOUTY SALE.