Monthly Archives: May 2017

Karl lager feldspar and mama


mother stormed into the scullery  banging and slamming cupboard doors …we were hiding in the shoe corridor it was the same auld routine every time Karl lager field came to stay , for although mother was Over it …she still had some issues …Fathers lasagne never helped for as we in the fashion industry knew Karl couldn’t resist traditional irish lasagne ( celery)


The original Haunted toilet


The Haunted Toilet …..Fathers fervour each sunday  at the Three patrons Cathedral  of Rathgar was not  fed  by the latin msss as delivered by monsignor Maloney  but some much darker ..fsther spiritual diet of Cattholic doctrine and a firm belief in apostolic succession meant he frequently suffered from severe compaction of his stools ..his words not my …sevrral times he was excused from teaching duties after a weekend of religious fervour ..His spiritual suffering found a locus in our downstairs toilrt where a passing member of the family on their way to the gymnadium could hear father wresting demons from the dark spaces of his alimentary canal to the recesses of a Shanks autmatic latrine …mother who practices pre christain faith  believed father was attention seeking and needed a good kick in the pants …her words not mine …


The Haunted Toilet


The Haunted toilet ..revisted ……Fathers note on the toilet door early one november morning confirmed to the household ..that in truth the evil sanitary wrong doings were far from finished …fathers petition to Bishop Casey for an ecumenical intervention fell on deaf ears   and despite the warnings sribbled on a page of one fathers Jotters  mother and myself entered the watercloset ….much like aladdin discoverying the robbers cave  we were aghast at what the interior revealed …my more delicate antipodean readers may wish to leave the page now ….father had created an elaborate labyrinth fashion out of toilet rolls soap and sunday newspaper suppliments all resembled less successful works of Gaudi …the sweet smell of frankincense wafting about the corridors …mother  engaged the light switch into the on setting ….organ pipe music  could be heard emanating from a well visited  passageway ahead …


Allegorical  inconvenience 


The Allegorical inconvenience …. my sister could be heard upstairs  kicking my younger brother ….a dim light in distance revealed a large cluttered antechamber …father had not been entirely transparent regarding his tioletting …mother casually  picked up one or two items of detritus  .a quiet hissing sound  could be heard as she muttered repeatedly “Castle Otranto !!!”… she spun on her now famous t-straps ..her maxi skirt swished and we returned  to the central hall  in the direction of the kitchen / parlour ….


TOILET HABITS 


Mother took a fork to fathers throat .,”Maurice what the hell has happened to our toilet? !  father, for a man educated abroad, on tnis occasion seemed at a loss for words …my brothers and two sisters were swinging from a clothes dryer attached to the ceiling out of the reach of mother who despite being not diminutive was a deft hand with a broomstick …from our aerial view father resembled what I imagined the sacking of Khartoum might have resrmbled if it had been translated into a kitch sink drama by a less competent scenographer … anyway fathers adams apple was now carrying the forces of mithers fork …fathers grey eyes which had wooed many a party members during fine geal annual conferences looked desperate …grabbing mother he flung her across the room , stood up and shouted ” I may have found a way to HY BRASIL !”


Why we Shave 


Why must men shave Daddy ? Well this is not often talked about  but ever since the Berlin Wall fell  and the cold war  changed temperature to ,the heat of terrorism , revolutionaries  had no where to hide …so when you people talk of tiny sector of society what they mean is a tiny group quite small people who are anti capitalist  that hide in mens beards and side burns ….females used to hide in head scarves  but  that has been stamped out ….Small radical element  thrive in notion of dishevelled facial hair …and that is why  lots of baddies in movies have beards …


My name is not Martin 


This one is called  MY NAME IS NOT MARTIN  …..unfortunately  the future of are reluctant hero  is now  in the balance  …three days later a rather ominous letter arrived at elwell house addressed  to a Mr Martin Oconnell …   knowing full well my name  i should not have opened the letter ….martin  by the tone of the letter  was a real trouble maker and  was draining  valuable community resources ..forcing the local judiciary to intervene … martin needed  to attend a pleniary where his future would be decided …..  well I  had little in my diary  so  I decided to bring the letter …at court room 10  I was ushered in …all stand !!!!!!!  Martin OConnelll  …silence  …Mr Martin Oconnell …silence .. i stood up  and waved  the letter …. i attempted to explain but  things  seemed to run their own  course  …..in the space of a few minutes …fingers were being waved …burden on society was barked …I even recognised a few faces from  the cafe . Things went quiet  and the judge asked me if i had anything to say for myself … my name  is not MARTIN…  despite my cooperation upto this point  it was clear  things were at breaking point the judge  shouted  I dont care who you are   you need to be stopped  ………… I turned  and faced  the rather large crowd including photogtaphers in the public gallery  and  declared I did not recognise the court and its authority  ……………..to be continued .