Once upon a time there was an island called Ireland. It was a wondrous, lush and vibrant place filled with saints, scholars and poets, where the women were all beautiful and the men were sensitive, attentive and not a bunch of pigheaded cunts at all. For these reasons it's not surprising that some have speculated that Ireland was in fact the fabled island of Atlantis, it was that
good. There was no such thing as sadness in Ireland; everyone was happy all the time. If you asked someone if they hated people of other religions, or if they disliked people of different colour, they'd laugh heartily and say "everyone is awesome and we, by extension, are also awesome, although we're not arrogant on that point, just honest, which is another trait we have - honesty and goodness". No one ever tripped over and hurt their leg, no one ever sang out of tune, no one even knew what a frown looked like. Childbirth was painless, doctors weren't even needed because no one ever got sick, the internet had already been invented and monkeys roamed the streets freely and were toilet trained and didn't masturbate.
Then, 800 years ago, the English came and fucking destroyed everything. They fingered our women, fucked our monkeys, ate our furniture, shut down our interwebs and introduced the concept of unhappiness into this pure Eden. They also started the potato famine and made sure that the potato manufacturers made spuds which didn't work like when those guys made dud bombs in Schindler's List, they invented Protestants, dumped toxic copper residue into our waters to make us ginger (a fate that I myself was fortune enough to escape) and worst of all they gave us sex offenders and a crap accent.
29 years ago something even worser happened. As if the English weren't bad enough they decided to sink even further into the depths of oppression and depravity by spunking out a complete and total ARSE-BISCUIT called John "I Eat Irish Babies" Mansley. I ask you, is it a coincidence that I haven't had a sniff of pussy in all the time I've known this man? His very Englishness has reacted with my Irishness over the webbernets and made me impotent and unattractive to women. I also lost £20 once when I was emptying old receipts out of my wallet. The fucking English bastard strikes again.
John is a special kind of bad English fucker, because he's from Liverpool, or "Little Ireland" as it's also known. He's probably my second cousin or something, which would explain why I find him so irresistibly sexy. Liverpool is populated by that half-way transition between good Irish and bad English pissfaces. Traitors, both in character and genetics. Accent-wise we're about even; no one outside of our respective tribes knows what the fuck we're saying half the time.
Having said all of that, he's a damn nice bloke.
Happy birthday JOHN "NOT A BAD LAD" MANSLEY!!!!!!!!!!!1
EL EYE VEE
EE ARE PEE
DOUBLE OH EL LIVERPOOL FC!
You'll be 30 two years before me. Just thought I'd throw that out there.