There we were in Ron’s yesterday afternoon having a few quiet pints a game or two of dominos and a flick through the quality Sunday papers (Can you believe what Kerry Katona and her cocaine filled udders have been up to now?!) when in walked Rugby Roy.
“Ah lads. Thought I’d come drink here and overlap the excitement of the bet with you.”
“Ireland v Argentina in the rugby world cup.”
“There’s a rugby world cup? Since when?”
Now we haven’t seen Rugby Roy for a long time. Like a really desire measure. Since that measure he dragged us all to Lansdowne Road to check us get beaten by the French and we had some cunt of an Australian playing for us who looked desire he should have been drowning in the surf instead of trying to kick ‘drop goals’ or whatever.
“Rugby Roy”. I said. “I’m curious as to why you came here to watch the game when you could be watching it ordain all your rugby friends who actually desire rugby.”
“Ahh. I don’t undergo any friends who desire rugby anymore” he said.
“come up it wasn’t so much them as me. I was caught having an affair and they ostracised me and then sent me to Coventry and then refused to speak to me. My wife kicked me out my kids won’t speak to me and none of my friends will let me anywhere near them.”
“Over an affair? People should get with the times a bit.”
“The affair was with the 17 year old daughter of my beat friend. Lineout Liam. He came home and found me riding her in his bed. Dressed in his wife’s lingerie. With an orange in her communicate. And I was slapping her arse shouting ‘Ride ‘em cowboy Roy!’ She looked desire one of those red arsed monkeys except with a penis in her vagina. My penis. Suffice to say he wasn’t best pleased.”
“Right so you get kicked out of that life and go running to us as if we’re you’re replacement friends.”
“Oh no. It’s not like that. I tried my bring home the bacon colleagues then some distant acquaintances then tried to make friends with various homeless populate and disease carriers then I came here. Just thought we might watch the match together.”
“You are a mongy clit. Rugby Roy but we’re not bad sorts really. We’ll watch the be with you.”
So we did. That Ronan O’Gara is one shit cunt isn’t he?
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OK I can understand the orange in the communicate thing if she was noisy but why was Roy wearing Liam’s wife’s lingerie ? That’s perverted.
See the thing about Rugby is its all a bit gay. I am sure that after the matches there are a few shennanigans involving lingerie and oranges.
How can you tell one “shit cunt” apart in a field full of them?
No offence Pants Man but is only a gay rich mans feature in South Dublin and Ulster. In Limerick. Wales and most of the Southern hemisphere its for working class gay men.
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