The Five Biggest Wankers In Ireland

The majority of Irish people are good, decent humans who pay their taxes, give to charity and pray to God every night that some day our six counties will be returned (with the exception of Fermanagh, no one is looking for that back, and the Brits can also take Dundalk, people in Dundalk would be pretty annoyed if they had to use pound sterling in their own town and euro everywhere else.) The point being that Irish people are generally sound. But Ireland isn't perfect, and some bad folk have managed to slip past Roy Keane at the country's gates and now call Ireland home.

Here is a list of the five biggest wankers in Ireland.

Arrogance, that's all it is. They think they have beaten the system. Picture this, you're on the bus or the train to college or work, its half seven in the morning and you're wrecked from a long night of interfering with yourself. The bus is pretty much full, except for the seat beside you. A big bald business bastard in an Armani suit (get a car mate) shuffles down and sits down next to you. You're trying to sleep but you can hear "In the air tonight" by Phil Collins banging out of his earphones. You open your eyes and here is this smug fool, with a big grin on his face, smoking something that resembles a flute. He looks at you as if to say "All this is legal pal." Whatever man, I'm not gonna fuck with someone who smokes a tin whistle.

Unless you're famous (like Phil from Tallafornia) or have a perky set of tits (like Phil from Tallafornia) you've probably had some trouble with these tough but intellectual men. You get to the que outside the club at about twenty to twelve, just in time to get in on the cheaplist. There's four sixteen year old Pakistani boys, a bald creep in his forties that looks like a roll on deodorant, three fine seventeen year old girls and a scumbag that's wearing a "Yokes for sale" T-shirt. They all get in no problem, no questions asked, the girls even get a smack on the arse. Then its your turn. You walk up to these scholars and present them with your ID. They either turn you away because (1) you look like an earwig (2) they're massive wankers who weren't allowed join the Guards. Either way you've just gotten in bits off four cans and have to get the last bus home.

Ah I'm just jealous of them. Have you seen that show? Its always full of people from places with no electricity like Louth and Tullamore and they're always winning cars and helicopters and mechanical bulls and hundreds of thousands of euro and holidays to places they've never heard of like New York. They always have to ask the presenters what a New York is. They should give these prizes to me and my mates and my uncle Patrick.

The gym is a good gaff for staying in shape and not getting fat (like Phil from Tallafornia). The whole idea of going to the gym is pretty funny in itself. Lifting heavy things up and then putting them back down to make your muscles bigger. When this is coupled with a few bottles of fake tan, a selection of T-shirts from Baby GAP, an Instagram account with countless topless photos of you and your mates, and a bottle of Desperados, you start to look like one of the biggest wankers in Ireland. If you want to be a proper hard man go to the gym, but don't constantly go on about it. How do you think Europe's toughest man Ross Kemp got so respected?

Buses and trains are so confined and claustrophobic that when a big smelly gobshite sits next to you it can make life tougher than Bruce Willis. There are different types of these smelly folk, you can usually spot them a mile away. There's the junkies that smell of a combination of yeast, Devil's Bit cider and their own piss. There's the schoolgirls that always smell of pickled onion flavoured crisps. There's at least one student on every bus wearing a black Superdry jacket who reaks of stale fags and arse sweat. The worst is when that one nice looking person gets on the bus that you wouldn't mind sitting beside you ends up sitting beside you. You might not want to admit it but everyone wants the decent looking bird or guy to sit beside them over the fella wearing the cardboard Burger King hat and the Saw Doctors T-Shirt. Anyway, that good looking person sits beside you and you're feeling nice, you begin to think that perhaps your looks aren't the reason for the civil war in Syria after all. You then get startled as a waft of raw onions and gone off milk ascends up your nostrils. You look to your left and discover that this respectable looking member of society is an undercover goblin. There's nothing you can do, you just have to sit beside this skunk until you get off, and everyone around you thinks its you stinking up the bus, because, come on, the good looking person beside you couldn't smell that bad.

----------------------

That's pretty much it, honourable mentions go out to the church of Scientology on Middle Abbey Street, U2, and people who try and sell you window cleaning appliances door to door.