The Galway Dickhead

Disclaimer:

The author of this report wishes it to be known that Galway is indeed a truly gracious, welcoming city. All references pertaining to 'Dickheads' and their wretched, obnoxious existence could sadly, be aimed at any city in the Modern World.
This is not a scurrilous personal damnation of Galway, or it's thriving local population.

Galway city itself is a charming, vibrant new meets old type of place, bursting with character and characters. To the uneducated, blinkered eye it portrays a flourishing, harmonious multi-racial society seething with Irish history and culture.

Sounds idyllic, ..... try this!

Galway city itself is a veritable haven for delinquents, bursting with 'Dickheads' and buffoons, mostly of little or no intelligence. To the educated, unblinkered eye it portrays a feckless, discordant multi-racial society seething with arseholes and even more 'Dickheads'

It's Monday 6am in Eyre Square Galway, an unfortunate refuse technician is hosing away an extravagant accumulation of colourful vomits as the pigeons are having their first shite of the day. Our under-cover reporter, managing skilfully to avoid a pregnant, one legged Romanian beggar whistling 'Danny Boy' through her false teeth, makes his way gingerly, across the square.
Pausing briefly to set the auto focus on his 'Nikon' he spots a potential 'Dickhead', head down, mumbling profanities and meandering aimlessly around like some clockwork soldier in need of winding up.
Shuffling to within a yard of our reporter the drunken oaf, squinting through his good eye, shoves an almost empty bottle of Lidl own brand 'rocket fuel' into his face.
"Give m-me a f-f-fag and shoo can harve a d-d-drink" he offers,
"Sorry Officer I don't smoke" our reporter replies to the Policeman "

By now it's almost 6:30am, the express train from Dublin has just arrived and the square is filling up with the usual curious array of tourists, students, backpackers and other mindless degenerates. Our reporter, his senses now in overdrive, strides purposefully and joins the impromptu gathering.

Sure enough, as the clock strikes 7:04am ( Everything is late in Ireland! ) a 'Dickhead' is spotted, lurching ominously towards a pathetic looking ensemble of naive American students. Pandemonium takes centre stage as the 'Dickhead' begins to poke fun at the hapless, freckled congregation. This is truly the abode of all Demons he begins to think, picking his way deftly through the chaos in an attempt to locate and thus observe the protagonist.

"This is so not good, I am like going to report you to the authorities or something" squeals an orange faced, surgically enhanced Britney Spears lookalike, now squaring up to the 'Dickhead'. "My Pa's an attorney on West Ortega, Santa Barbara. I call his cell and he sues your ass you freakin mother!"

The 'Dickhead' just laughs into her incandescent 'Botox' face, "You Irish?" he says, a constant discharge of saliva trickling from the corner of his putrid, festering mouth."I'm Irish and proud" he continues, scratching his genitalia "I used to be famous".
"So did O J Simpson" replies Barbie "But now he's a goddam freak show just like you!"

"Do the words 'Live Aid' ring a bell?" the mangy misfit asks, changing the subject.
"It's Band Aid you'll need" announces america's next top model, striking a crisp,well aimed blow to the 'Dickhead's' stubbly chin.

At that precise moment the 'Silicon chip inside his head gets switched to overload' "I don't like Mondays" exclaims the 'Dickhead' "I want to shoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oot the whole day down" he cries, staggering pathetically away.

I know it's a 'Rat Trap' but Sir Bob how could you?

They say that 'The higher you climb the further you fall'.

That is the thought in our reporters mind as he ambles, mission accomplished, back to HQ.