Monday, October 13, 2008

Ballyfuck Rally

Tonight I want to expound on a subject which is close to my heart. The Hate Node of my heart, as it happens.

There are a considerable number of boy racers living in Ballyfuck. The sort of lads who get their kicks from getting two euro worth of petrol and cruising up and down the street in their noisy buckets of shit for the evening in the hope that people will look at them. And when they get fed up of that, they go home to their rooms in Mammy's house where they commit unspeakable acts while watching reruns of Pimp My Ride.

One wanker on my street has some sort of indescribable piece of shit which makes a sneezing noise as he changes gear. I have never looked to see what kind of car it is. Because that's what he wants.

The other day was when I was walking home after having got the paper from the shop and there was a lad parked outside, waiting for his passenger to come out of the shop. As I passed, he revved his engine a couple of times.

Hey, a girl! Vroom Vroom! Look at me!

(I might add at this point that I bear no resemblance to the sort of girls who grace the cover of Max Power and other such periodicals aimed at boy racers. For one, I am comprised of 0% silicone.)

I looked up at a nearby roof and admired the new PVC guttering. But not before I had a chance to have a quick shifty glance out of the corner of my eye to see what kind of car it was.

A 1997 Fiat Punto.

I sniggered all the way home.

Poor wee lad. Let him have his fun.

Edit: I actually enjoy Pimp My Ride.
In fact I think they should do a similar idea for wedding day makeovers.

Pimp My Bride

***runs away before the rotten tomatoes hit ***

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