Step away from the duster, senor fashionista
By the time I left school I had learned certain crucial things which would stand me in good stead in later life – an aversion to the Irish language and all forms of religion were also joined by a dislike of Gaelic football and other such rural pursuits.
But crucially, I learned a vital skill – the ability to duck as a duster enters the airspace around your head.
Sadly, some modern students aren't so lucky and school teacher, Kerry county star and one of Ireland's most, ahem, intriguing clothes horses, Paul Galvin, has settled a case for eight grand after a student was struck by an airborne duster in his class.
There has been much dark muttering in GAA circles about Galvin and his rather individualistic ways.
Because, let's be honest, any red-blooded male who is comfortable wearing pink socks and culottes with a lilac cravat and bowler hat before taking to the field and battering someone is not exactly central casting for your average bogger – a bloke who likes clothes? Jaysus, that's something fierce sinister, so it is.
Did our founding fathers really sacrifice their lives so that we could see Gaelic footballers prancing around the society pages in berets and fancy low rider jeans that show off the top of a man's bottom?
Well, for obvious reasons I can't speak for Padraig Pearse, but I bet the others would have been dead against it . . .
Now that's a happy workplace
In Britain, under the new rules proposed by the Equalities and Human Rights Commission it is 'discrimination' to ask a vegan working in a canteen to handle meat.
Druids should be given time off for the Solstice – and then there's my personal favourite: allowing global warming nutters (sorry, 'ecologically concerned' people) to "reasonably and politely express their opinions to their colleagues".
So, you're late for work after being stuck in a traffic jam and the smug hippy sitting at the next desk starts to lecture you about carbon emissions and protecting the polar bears?
I'm looking into my crystal ball here and I see a massive spike in workplace assaults if that plan ever comes into place . . .
Some foods are more equal than others?
We are all going to die hideously obese and suffering from diabetes and gout.
For instance, did you know that eating one packet of crisps is the equivalent to drinking five litres of cooking oil, as they claim?
Really? Eating a packet of Tayto (ideally on batch bread with no butter) is as bad as that?
But have you ever actually tried to drink five litres of cooking oil?
Trust me, it's not pleasant.
Damn you, secret right-wing societies and your bizarre initiation rituals!
Right, I'm bloody well suing
I thought I won the Lotto on Saturday. I rang my boss to tell him to shove his job, told the missus I was trading her in for a younger model and went on the lash.
Sadly, the draw was read wrong and I now face a rather awkward meeting with the boss this afternoon (who is a wonderful, kind and most importantly, forgiving man), my wife has kicked me out and I am a social pariah. I contacted the offices of the National Lottery and said it was only fair they give me a few quid to cope with the emotional distress.
I'll let you know what their response is . . .
I guess he loved his chat lines
So, your girlfriend dumps you – you then gather all her clothes and burn them in her mother's front garden while screaming and crying hysterically at the top of your voice. Y'know, the usual response to being dumped.
Or you could go the route preferred by Loughborough man Kevin Waldrum and rack up nearly a hundred grand in calls to premium chat lines after his bird kicked him to the kerb.
He says the bill should be dropped because: "The company should take my health into consideration and drop the charges."
Sorry, Kevin – but I'm not sure premium chat-line operators are all that concerned about your health.