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Fumbling in the greasy till, era yeah

Posted on 18. Feb, 2010 by Prison Bitch in Egg Chasing, It's Satire, Stupid, Sports We Made Up

Resident hack Prison Bitch spent a day with WB Yeats – yes he is deceased, what’s your point? – in a bid to garner the infamous playwright’s take on contemporary Irish sport, and other stuff too…
PB: Well Bill…can I call you B…
WB: I wouldn’t…
PB: WB?
WB: It matters not what you call me, but how you [...]

Swing low, shit chariot

Posted on 16. Dec, 2009 by Prison Bitch in Blatter Blather, Soccer Is Played With A Ball

Bandwagonism (It’s in the Dictionary)*, oh how I had a loathe thee. It seems the fair-weather fan has become something of a niche in the city of my birth. The Rebel County as they call it; I presume Cromwell coined that phrase.
Self-righteousness and indignation have become the flavour of the month down in this little [...]