1am, Monday night of Galway Races 2012.
So about 20 minutes ago I walked to the shop to pick up some cigarettes in Vivo (or whatever they call it these days) and then made my way back to the SteveCave. I am trying to quit smoking and I guess it is going to be tough during race week. Il get there soon. I only had four cigarettes today and that is huge for me. Anyway…
I had my iPod on and I was enjoying the crunchy grooves of my boys Metallica as the drunken masses of the entirety of Ireland falls around Galway and pukes on it’s rainy streets. I turned the corner by the old tax office and headed down Eyre Street…the forth circle of hell during race week. As I watched yuppie Dubliners plead their case to 18 year old slags on the way to a classy nightclubs I felt good about my non-nightclub ways. The thoughts of being that assclown that desperately chases slutty idiots at 1am on a Monday night scares the bejesus out of me. I’d rather die alone.
So I get to the point where I turn to my house, which is just near the “Hole In The Wall” pub here in Galway. Ground Zero during the races. I turn the corner and walk toward some “guys” near my place. I tell them to get out of my way so I can get to my front door…they were not pleased with my sober sensible actions and one of them says… “Haha fuck off you queer!”
How could those drunken yuppie (soon to be failed Leinster rugby players) possibly know of my epic homosexuality? I mean they were wearing such masculine clothes so surely they were correct in their assumptions that I’m a big gay?
I mean seriously! How could they possibly have known of my nightly homosexual actions? I’m mean come on! How could they possibly have known that my male and female parents are actually a front for a something the CIA call “Project Massive Gayboy”. You see, in 1985 I was the subject of a test. The AIDS crisis was throwing the world into a hissyfit and the world was in a panic. They needed a test-child…that test child was me.
The CIA wanted somebody so MASSIVELY homosexual that it would be hard (excuse the erect penis gag you have already thought of) for the regular gay man to refuse. They wanted to learn of their AIDS spreading tactics and they needed me…the gayest man on the planet. I was born to Ellen from the mixed sperm of Freddie Murcury and Elton John. This would be the most perfect experiment the CIA would ever attempt.
I have spent the entirety of my 26 years on this earth being exceptionally homosexual at every given opportunity….
Oh no. Wait. All of that is a complete lie! So I tell some yuppie Dublin pricks that have never worked a day in their lives to move out of the way of my door and they call me gay? Why is that word still an insult in this country anyway? Everybody in modern day Ireland has a friend that is gay and would never treat them differently. But for some reason that got to me tonight.
I looked at 7 guys standing at my door drinking, wearing chinos and striped little T-Shirts looking just like those One Direction Simon Cowell abortions and they have the cheek to use that word? Are you serious bro? The whole of Irelands male population under the age of 25 are dressed like a BOYBAND with the combined age of four and a half and they have the gall to say ANYTHING to other normal people?
The fact that we, as a species, allow you chino sheep to live is a testament to our apathy of your existence. Enjoy your purple pants until another fad comes along and you realise how much of your fathers money you have spent on your fruity trousers. You won’t care though…you have the intelligence, drive, individuality and personality of a burst tyre. God help this country.