Green Ink has reached the end of its current incarnation.
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Green Ink will return.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Oh fuck me does it ever stop? Martin Cullen today defended his airborne taxi trip:
"Minister Cullen agreed the affair looks bad in light of the way it is presented by the media."
Ok. Ok. Ok. Ok... Ok. Sorry, no. Did you just say using a helicopter as a taxi looks bad because it was reported? You did didn't you? Sorry Martin old bean, we'll all just look over here while you swan around the skies doing NOTHING. Best we just don't find out about it.
"The minister said if he had not used the helicopter he would have spent around nine hours in the car that day, when he could have been attending meetings."
Ok, but did you attend any meetings motherfucker? You could have been inventing a cure for cancer as well but I bet you weren't. You could have been distributing hot meals to the elderly, but I bet you weren't. You could even have spent 9 hours looking out the car window reflecting on what a godawful cunt you are. But I bet you didn't.
Here's a modest proposal. Let's stop all public spending on Waterford until we've made back the total cost of the e-voting fist fuck that Cullen was up to his elbows in. The people of Waterford can either sit it out until the amount is matched, wait for a general election and pull his seat from under him, or all show up at his house one morning and kick him to fucking pieces. It's multiple choice Waterford. You know what they say about multiple choice questions?
The answer is always C.
Jeshus howsh it goin' lads? I'm the Tanaiste! Wild craic!
Ye know that Paul Gogarty's a big ride. Those come to bed ears, I swear to fuck! Anyway, got a kuntray to ruin!
Aw fuck d'ye hear me? Run I meant! Jeshus Chrisht!
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
...they want to eat them. Gaze upon the sweaty nightmare of heart attack fodder, this zombie corps of clientelism, the politically inbred eunuchs of thought.
These are the gormless fucks that have sucked the country's marrow dry.
This rambling mass of the political undead has one craving: power for its party over the good of the country. These are the bastard children of Charles Haughey, and their putrid hearts pump the bile of greed through the body politic.
But some zombies have bad footing. Watch FF's resident BeeGee John Foley to Davin-Power's left. Heh.
Zombie fall down.
Martin Cullen narrowly missed becoming one less mouth to feed yesterday when the door fell of his helicopter which is a shame on one hand but at least the pilot's significant other has still got a significant other. A slight lurch on the way down might have dislodged the useless cunt in the back seat headfirst into the nearest pile of cowshite. No such luck this time, but surely the Minister can get his blowjobs closer to home?
Seriously, you pack of utter cunts, stop fannying around in helicopters. In fact, stay indoors. We don't want to see you and you're going to get a puck in the gob for starters when we do.
And that's just for fannying around in helicopters. The public might seem quiet at the moment about your flushing jobs and money down the toilet, but we're actually way way over there in the distance to get a good run at your big, rancorous, wasting holes.