-Well that’s beyond fabulous, Lucy-Margaret. Let me just check on the salted flapjacks…

-What is it you do, Thestle?

-I’m a humanitarian, thank you.

-Ooh, how delightful! And where is it that you work, love?

-In bathrooms. Mostly.

-Oh

-Yes well you see, when you’re cleaning your own toilet, scrubbing away at your own fecal matter, it doesn’t mean so much, does it?  But to be faced everyday with the piling stains of strangers, the various smells, the sights. It’s quite a thing I’ll have you know.

-That’s fascinating. No thanks, I’ll pass on the flapjack, Juwanda.

-So. I began thinking of each of these strangers, in order to lighten the load so to speak, as members of my family. It was much easier for me to face the task at hand if it were a brother’s, or say my son’s stubborn turd tracks that I were getting rid of. So of course, by the process of reverse logic in practice, I soon began to look at these disgusting men, who frequent the rest rooms in bus stations and pubs, as truly my family, in a strictly human sense. In a manner of speaking, I was forced to broaden my vision of the world’s population as an international brotherhood, through shit, really.

———————————————————

-You’re a bitter cynical bastard, Barry. Aren’t ye?

-Wa?

-Ack nahin. Do ye mind the time ye raced the horse?

-Aye, and I nearly beat him, didn’t I?

-Ye were up that hill like fuck. No helmet or nothin.

-Coulda won the Olympics, if I’d went in for it like.

-Ye’d have never got past the drug test, son. Mind that, there’s some craic about thon Olympic village.

-Aye. My plan was to go in like Good Will Huntin. Go runnin down the corridors, then they’d let me in probably.

-Well, Barry, far be it from me to dismantle the dreams of any young scoundrel; but did ye ever stop to consider the logistics of such an audacious sherade?

-Well…

-Naw. Ye did not. And that’s why you and me’s sittin here, talkin shite; and that Matt Damon’s over in Hollywood, stickin it into some young starlet. Goodnight, son.

—————————————————————

Rollin Stones, ye can lick the fuckin back of them
You got two women, sure look at the fuckin hack a them

Bally fuckin hackamore, wanna go to moneymore
Havin craic wi Macklemore
Post Malone Boyzone
Lights are out im on my own

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