Melodi
Disaster Cat
I thought folks here my enjoy this "opinion" piece written by a rural pub owner aka The Landlord about what some of his customers (one in particular) think about the new plan to bring broadband to isolated parts of rural Ireland that are still off-line.
Warning put down your hot liquids before reading this, it is doubly funny if you come from an all or part Irish background and have ever visited the relatives...lol
Billy Keane: 'Rural broadband spells land-grab disaster if those predatory doxies are unleashed on lonely farmers'
Keane's Kingdom
'Some of us think the bringing of fast rural broadband to more than half-a-million homes is up there with the advent of rural electrification' (stock photo)1
Billy Keane
Billy Keane
November 23 2019 2:30 AM
There are farmers and their mams and dads who are living in permanent dread of the new rural broadband project. They are terrified. The eldest sons of farmers are being ruthlessly targeted by the doxies.
The Man Who Knows Everything told me as much in our pub only last night, or was it the night before?
It might even have been before that again. Us bartenders often lose track of time and circumstance. After a night listening to The Man Who Knows Everything I get addled.
Now here are a series of warnings. Do not attempt to drive heavy machinery after reading the rest of this. Heavy machinery is any machine heavier than an electric toothbrush.
The Man Who Knows Everything (TMWKE) said the signing of the contract for rural broadband by the Government is the worst thing that will ever happen to rural Ireland. He says the very land is in danger and so are the innocent naive men who live thereon. He is certain the doxies will get them.
Some of us think the bringing of fast rural broadband to more than half-a-million homes is up there with the advent of rural electrification.
Kids who live in remote areas will be educated on equal terms. Doctors will be able to arrange online consultations, and our people will be able to work remotely from remote places. Mams and dads will be able to talk on Skype to the kids in Oz. People who live alone need never be alone. Gardaí can track the safety of those who live alone.
These are but a few of the benefits. And what of it if the project will cost more than anticipated? Every big project costs more than anticipated and before you have finished reading this column there will be some new and better technology invented.
TMWKE disagrees. "The internet," says he, "isn't all it's cracked up to be. The greatest invention of all is the no- soak marrowfat peas."
He's well in to his stride now.
"Mothers hate doxies," says TMWKE. "There are many lonely farmers living up lonesome bohereens where the thorns spill out over the sides of the ditches and a Brazilian of grass grows up the middle of the road. The poor divils are fair game for the doxies."
I'm the same as you. I haven't a clue what he's on about but barmen pretend, so I say: "I know where you're coming from."
Customers are prized like gold and silver in November, when so many go off the drink for the Holy Souls; even though there is no proof even so much as one dead sinner has ever been saved from damnation by a man switching from Guinness to MiWadi for a month.
I ask TMWKE for his definition of a doxy.
"A doxy," he says, "is a dodgy bird."
I had better explain.
Men of a certain age call women birds. Some women are sound birds, or good-looking birds, or gas birds, or gamey birds, which has nothing to do with pheasants or wild duck.
I'm not saying this is right. I'm only saying what TMWKE was saying.
TMWKE is not for stopping.
"The innocent young farmer boys of no more than 40 or 50 years of age will be targeted online by predatory Irish and foreign doxies. Sure some of them lads can't even take the cap off their egg 'cos their mams be doing the decapitating for them for ears and ears." Yes, ears. The y before an e is silent in vast swathes of the southwest.
I sigh, but silently, because it's November, the brokest month of the pub year. TMWKE never gives in even when he is wrong. I don't even bother to argue. He has the fight knocked out of me. I'm ashamed of myself.
But by now I'm well addled. I say to God: "What did I do to deserve this?"
He drives on. "Them doxies knows how to make fools out of the poor old well-off lonely farmers. It's the land they are after. The land, man. They marry the poor boy and soon enough they'll be spending the August creamery cheque in one go in Tom Browne's department store, up in Dublin."
I never heard of a shop called Tom Browne's.
TMWKE has the floor. "Dem shopaholic doxies will end up with half the farm when they divorce the poor boy and the rural broadband will be the cause of it all."
Then it dawns on me, Tom Browne's could be Brown Thomas, or BT. There's no point in correcting him. If Tom's is really BT, he'll just say "that's what I said, didn't I?".
TWWKE is not finished yet.
"The mothers do be afraid of their lives their boys will go on to the dating sites when the rural broadband comes in. There they'll be, above in the room, talking all night on Skype. Your wan on the line will be some foreign doxy, without a penny to her name and she bending over accidentally on purpose to show off her cleavage. Mark my words. Dem will be the dear busts."
My mouth is open so wide if Nicky English was to puck a sliotar in my direction it would go straight in, without so much as touching the lips.
For those who are reading this out foreign, a sliotar is a hurling ball slightly bigger than an ordinary sized orange but smaller than a small grapefruit.
TMWKE gives credence to his name.
"That internet dating is fine for a mature man of the world like myself, who knows what's what, and a lot more than that. I'm flying over a lovely girl from rural Ruritania for the Christmas."
There goes the milk money. Bang goes the 19 acres, which is half of 38 acres. TMWKE used to have 76 acres but Wife 1 was awarded 38 of those. She deserved every blade of grass.
TMWKE tells me about the Ruritanian doxy.
"She's from a noble family. They owned a castle with a moat around it, what was as wide as the River Shannon. The Russians robbed it off her grandfather, the Count. We're getting on the finest. I'd go so far as to say Svetlana is stone mad about me."
"And who could blame the poor girl?"
His words, not mine.
https://www.independent.ie/opinion/...are-unleashed-on-lonely-farmers-38718722.html
Warning put down your hot liquids before reading this, it is doubly funny if you come from an all or part Irish background and have ever visited the relatives...lol
Billy Keane: 'Rural broadband spells land-grab disaster if those predatory doxies are unleashed on lonely farmers'
Keane's Kingdom
'Some of us think the bringing of fast rural broadband to more than half-a-million homes is up there with the advent of rural electrification' (stock photo)1
Billy Keane
Billy Keane
November 23 2019 2:30 AM
There are farmers and their mams and dads who are living in permanent dread of the new rural broadband project. They are terrified. The eldest sons of farmers are being ruthlessly targeted by the doxies.
The Man Who Knows Everything told me as much in our pub only last night, or was it the night before?
It might even have been before that again. Us bartenders often lose track of time and circumstance. After a night listening to The Man Who Knows Everything I get addled.
Now here are a series of warnings. Do not attempt to drive heavy machinery after reading the rest of this. Heavy machinery is any machine heavier than an electric toothbrush.
The Man Who Knows Everything (TMWKE) said the signing of the contract for rural broadband by the Government is the worst thing that will ever happen to rural Ireland. He says the very land is in danger and so are the innocent naive men who live thereon. He is certain the doxies will get them.
Some of us think the bringing of fast rural broadband to more than half-a-million homes is up there with the advent of rural electrification.
Kids who live in remote areas will be educated on equal terms. Doctors will be able to arrange online consultations, and our people will be able to work remotely from remote places. Mams and dads will be able to talk on Skype to the kids in Oz. People who live alone need never be alone. Gardaí can track the safety of those who live alone.
These are but a few of the benefits. And what of it if the project will cost more than anticipated? Every big project costs more than anticipated and before you have finished reading this column there will be some new and better technology invented.
TMWKE disagrees. "The internet," says he, "isn't all it's cracked up to be. The greatest invention of all is the no- soak marrowfat peas."
He's well in to his stride now.
"Mothers hate doxies," says TMWKE. "There are many lonely farmers living up lonesome bohereens where the thorns spill out over the sides of the ditches and a Brazilian of grass grows up the middle of the road. The poor divils are fair game for the doxies."
I'm the same as you. I haven't a clue what he's on about but barmen pretend, so I say: "I know where you're coming from."
Customers are prized like gold and silver in November, when so many go off the drink for the Holy Souls; even though there is no proof even so much as one dead sinner has ever been saved from damnation by a man switching from Guinness to MiWadi for a month.
I ask TMWKE for his definition of a doxy.
"A doxy," he says, "is a dodgy bird."
I had better explain.
Men of a certain age call women birds. Some women are sound birds, or good-looking birds, or gas birds, or gamey birds, which has nothing to do with pheasants or wild duck.
I'm not saying this is right. I'm only saying what TMWKE was saying.
TMWKE is not for stopping.
"The innocent young farmer boys of no more than 40 or 50 years of age will be targeted online by predatory Irish and foreign doxies. Sure some of them lads can't even take the cap off their egg 'cos their mams be doing the decapitating for them for ears and ears." Yes, ears. The y before an e is silent in vast swathes of the southwest.
I sigh, but silently, because it's November, the brokest month of the pub year. TMWKE never gives in even when he is wrong. I don't even bother to argue. He has the fight knocked out of me. I'm ashamed of myself.
But by now I'm well addled. I say to God: "What did I do to deserve this?"
He drives on. "Them doxies knows how to make fools out of the poor old well-off lonely farmers. It's the land they are after. The land, man. They marry the poor boy and soon enough they'll be spending the August creamery cheque in one go in Tom Browne's department store, up in Dublin."
I never heard of a shop called Tom Browne's.
TMWKE has the floor. "Dem shopaholic doxies will end up with half the farm when they divorce the poor boy and the rural broadband will be the cause of it all."
Then it dawns on me, Tom Browne's could be Brown Thomas, or BT. There's no point in correcting him. If Tom's is really BT, he'll just say "that's what I said, didn't I?".
TWWKE is not finished yet.
"The mothers do be afraid of their lives their boys will go on to the dating sites when the rural broadband comes in. There they'll be, above in the room, talking all night on Skype. Your wan on the line will be some foreign doxy, without a penny to her name and she bending over accidentally on purpose to show off her cleavage. Mark my words. Dem will be the dear busts."
My mouth is open so wide if Nicky English was to puck a sliotar in my direction it would go straight in, without so much as touching the lips.
For those who are reading this out foreign, a sliotar is a hurling ball slightly bigger than an ordinary sized orange but smaller than a small grapefruit.
TMWKE gives credence to his name.
"That internet dating is fine for a mature man of the world like myself, who knows what's what, and a lot more than that. I'm flying over a lovely girl from rural Ruritania for the Christmas."
There goes the milk money. Bang goes the 19 acres, which is half of 38 acres. TMWKE used to have 76 acres but Wife 1 was awarded 38 of those. She deserved every blade of grass.
TMWKE tells me about the Ruritanian doxy.
"She's from a noble family. They owned a castle with a moat around it, what was as wide as the River Shannon. The Russians robbed it off her grandfather, the Count. We're getting on the finest. I'd go so far as to say Svetlana is stone mad about me."
"And who could blame the poor girl?"
His words, not mine.
https://www.independent.ie/opinion/...are-unleashed-on-lonely-farmers-38718722.html
