Ian O'Doherty

Monday 28 July 2014

Ian O'Doherty: How many times do I have to say this?

Published 31/10/2012|05:00

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Ah yes, it's that day of the year again.

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I was an only child for most of my childhood and used to be escorted around the local street by my parents. On my own.

I wasn't sure then and, to be honest, I'm still not sure now about who was more embarrassed by this solitary Billy No Mates charade -- me or my folks.

Then, when I got old enough to be able to pay the other kids to pretend that they were my friends, the experience became a rather more enjoyable one.

Although I still remember having a massive punch-up -- well, as massive as a punch-up can be when you're 12 -- with a kid in the area who got his kicks from attaching bangers to the local cats' tails.

I'm not sure where he is now, but my money is that he's either dead or in jail and now that I think of him for the first time in years, either of those options would be perfectly acceptable.

Let's put it this way, if some kid today treated animals the way he did back then, they'd be brought in for some serious counselling.

But I have one bugbear that just gets bugger and bearer by the year.

And it's this: "Trick or treat".

Trick or treat is an American abomination that has been bizarrely adopted over here, the way so many American irritants are.

Look, people -- it's not 'trick or treat'.

In Ireland -- well, in Dublin anyway -- it has always been 'help the Halloween party'.

God, how many times do I have to tell you people that?

I suppose the rather tragic aspect of all this is that I am actually that annoyed about it and am not joking. It drives me bloody mad.

Maybe that has something to do with the local kids never calling in.

Ah, you gotta love the game

Well, Sunday was a blast.

Liverpool drawing a game they should have won thanks to a perfectly good goal that was wrongly disallowed was a laugh-inducing start to the day.

Then seeing United win a match they should never have won thanks to a ridiculously offside goal being allowed made the bitter little imp that passes for my black heart even more joyous.

After all, when you throw bitter injustice into the mix, it always makes the victory taste even sweeter.

I know, it's not a particularly admirable or laudable characteristic, but I don't know a single football fan who doesn't feel the same way.

And to make matters better, I had the usual gentleman's bet with a Chelsea mate of mine.

It's quite simple -- the loser forks out a fiver and there's a pint differential for every goal scored.

So, yesterday I got to pocket a fiver and a pint. It's not much, I know. But the look of burning resentment on his face made the whole thing thoroughly enjoyable.

And it looks like it's going to be a while before referee Mark Clattenburg (pictured) enjoys anything.

Players being accused of racism is one thing. When the ref gets accused of something similar then you know the world has finally, officially, irrevocably gone mad.

I was particularly interested to see that the Black Lawyers Association had lodged a complaint with the cops.

The black lawyers association?

I wonder will the White Lawyers Association represent Clattenburg.

Oh wait, I forgot.

There isn't one.

Because that would be racist.

I guess he's just a hardliner . . .

In what seems a deliberate attempt to make Team America: World Police look like a documentary, North Korea's latest dear leader, Kim Jong-un, is showing himself to be as utterly crazy bonkers mental as his late father.

And when his Da died, he didn't waste time purging the party's inner circle.

One of the ways he insisted the country mark his father's death was a 100-day mourning period. Which I'm sure you'll agree seems a tad excessive.

People weren't allowed to have a drink during this period and when Kim discovered that one of his senior generals had broken this embargo he decided to make an example of him.

So did he drop him down to the rank of private? Did he court martial him?

Not quite.

In fact he had him tied to a post and dropped a mortar round on him, completely obliterating his body and leaving no trace.

Well, as examples go, you can't really argue with it, can you?

The fish that had their chips

As much as I am interested in animal welfare, every time PETA come out with another one of their ghastly stunts I want to find the nearest puppy and punch it. Just on principle.

Now their latest is a doozy.

A traffic accident happened in Orange County last month and a lorry containing live fish overturned, killing them all.

Now PETA want the local authority to erect a sign in memory of the fish.

They say that the memorial should read: "In memory of the fish that suffered and died at this spot."

I don't know about you, but I'm suddenly hankering for fish and chips tonight.

Another cyclist strikes again

Police in Poland were rather surprised the other day when their speed camera was set off by a passing cyclist. When they caught up with him, they were further confounded to discover that he was naked from the waist down and was wearing his underpants on his head.

When charged with this, he denied being completely naked and said he had been wearing a thong that the cops missed.

Because otherwise, cycling with your boxers on your head would just be a bit weird . . .

Irish Independent

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