Boggerscopes

Sweary

I’ve always fancied myself a psychic (I’ve also always just plain fancied myself). It runs in the family; apparently half of my cousins see dead people, mostly in their dealers’ front gardens at 4am. I’ve decided to nurture this deep and meaningful side of me, so that hopefully I can wheedle my way out of the recession. Yup, I’ve seen how much premium phonelines cost, and it excites me like a Pulitzer dipped in Josh Homme’s underpants.

I think I’d make a bloody good charlatan, even in this saturated marketplace; there are more Mystic Marys in Ireland than there are hairy babies conceived at Republic Of Loose gigs. So, in order to give myself a bit of an edge, I have dispensed with the usual signs-of-the-zodiac knobology and have classified my countrymen in a way that truly matters: by county. Hup ya boy-ya!

Antrim: Windswept and interesting, you’ve never been more in demand, but don’t let it go to your head. Sooner or later everyone will realise there’s no more to you lot then a heap of stones on a beach somewhere, so try to do an Open University course or bring peace or something while you’re waiting.

Beware of Norn Irish ad execs demanding freebies; there’s nothing long-term in their wooing.

Armagh: With your moon stashed in a barn under a pile of turf, it’s important to remember that those around you will struggle to keep up. Not everyone’s running on the dizzying fumes of cheap petrol, you know, so slow down and breathe out slowly.?Beware those in counterfeit balaclavas; they might just be the Criminal Assets Bureau.

Carlow: The planets signal a spurt of growth for you this week, both in terms of personal development (you won’t drive your motorbike into a tree) and your beard (your beard). Mercury in your rear-view mirror gives you that extra speed to place in one of the forty rallies you’ve signed up for on Saturday.?Beware of low-flying swallows.

Cavan: Finances may be tight as Jupiter gets the gawks on Tuesday morning. It might be an idea to get on to Paddy “The Knuckles” Murphy and arrange an extension to your homemade mortgage. True, it’s another seven years of 100% interest, but that’s a small price to pay for having your kneecaps, isn’t it??Beware of skulking henchmen when backing out of that huge driveway.

Clare: Uranus is nearly as huge as your ego this week. You might want to get that checked out. Have you not been hurling well recently or what??Beware of people from South County Galway. They just plain don’t like you.

Cork: C’mere, being naturally highly-strung, like, you may need to keep a hold of your octaves this week for fear of shattering the eardrums of your loved ones, like. Things could come to blows as Mars finishes its bender and loses the run of itself around Thursday, but c’mere, that’s ok, there’s plenty more blow around here somewhere, like.?Beware of collapsing septums.

Derry: Venus/Londonvenus moves into the third house this month, as the last two were destroyed in arson attacks.?Beware Donegal; it’s getting ever closer.

Donegal: With Saturn slipping a disc, it might be a good time to evaluate your life, maybe even stop getting Sligo women pregnant at weekends. There are plenty of decent women in Letterkenny… alright, maybe not Letterkenny, but there are plenty more fish in the s… alright, so you’ve fished the sea dry, but… ah, just keep doing what you’re doing, Donegal. No one outside the Sligo social welfare cares anyway.?Beware of Daniel O’Donnell. He’s making a mockery of you all.

Down: Planetary patterns suggest now’s the right time to say, “What about ye?” and “Nai you’re suckan’ diesel!” to the rest of us. Why? Because you guys are funny. Say “siteeeation”. Ah, do.?Beware of democracy hidden in Gerry Adams’ beard.

Dublin: Recent financial trends have negatively affected your vowels. Going astrologically, it’s time take stock and heroin again. The veins in Uranus are plump.?Beware of Dublin 4; it’s imploding.

Fermanagh: Ah, come on now. Everyone knows Fermanagh isn’t real.

Galway: With Neptune slipping into something a little more comfortable, and the arts festival season of raunchy debauchery nearly upon you, it’s imperative you go and get last year’s funny rash checked out. It’s starting to smell. And no, it’s not just something in the water.?Beware the water, all the same.

Kerry: The presence of celestial bodies in your cowshed should make things a little creamier, but the lack of American tourists this year more than compensates. You’ll be whinging, moaning and keening again before the week is out.?Beware of high-rise flat caps; like the Aquadome, they’re a false economy.

Kildare: With Venus splattered all over your mudguards for the foreseeable future, the twelve-day commute to work is looking less and less attractive. Best not to indulge any thoughts of voluntary redundancy though; the hot-tub won’t pay for itself!?Beware of strapped jockeys, of whom the stars say there is an unfortunate abundance.

Kilkenny: Venus is in the house! Mars is in the house! Party in the house! There’s a hen party in the house! Who let the hen party into the house? My mam is going to kill me.?Beware those who tell you they’ve come to Kilkenny for the Comedy festival. They’re only there for the drugs.

Laois: With Pluto in your fridge, being landlocked is no excuse for not getting just plain locked. Loosen the grip on the Massey Ferguson, crack open a can of Carling, and let your freckles down – at long last the rest of the country is catching up with the recession you fucking started.?Beware me. I’m going to kill ye!

Leitrim: Neptune, your ruling planet, has made you a watery bogger. Perhaps, with Mars coming into your boxroom, it’s time to go against the grain. Maybe try some rice. I hear that’s a good one to grow in the wetlands.?Beware of holidaying jackeens in rented Shannon cruisers, although they do sink when you feck bricks at them.

Limerick: With Venus circling your nipples, you might have considered laying down your arms. Don’t do it! Cork is only frothing at the Lee basin to reclaim its Tough Bastard crown, and its sons will invade as soon as you stop frightening the shite out of them.?Beware of journalists; they’re all in the pay of the Tralee tourist board.

Longford: Same as Leitrim, but instead of rice, grow A PAIR.?Beware of bearded sheep; they’re often disguised goats out for a good time.

Louth: Planetary influences notwithstanding, now’s a good time to arrange that lock-in in the local pub. Anytime’s a good time for a lock-in. You’re from fucking Louth, for fuck’s sake! Party on!?Beware of liver damage.

Mayo: With Enda Kenny in the Dail, you’ve finally realised you’ve seen the pinnacle of your county’s success. Don’t despair, though. There are still plenty of stag parties in Westport to mug. Or eat. Sure whichever way the hunger grabs ya!?Beware the bottomless lakes, as you probably have seven or eight in your back garden.

Meath: Signs point to it being the right time to formally hand Tommy Tiernan and Hector O’Hackinthebackofthethroat over to Galway. It’s becoming clear that you want no more to do with them, so try to spare the blushes of others by being more subtle. It’s easier than it looks, even with your big hairy thighs.?Beware the Hill of Tara, it’s getting dangerously close to the road.

Monaghan: Miserable Pluto rules, but you’re feeling goofy, which is a welcome change from the moaning and whinging about the soil we’re used to hearing from you. Celebrate by doing some mushrooms in The Wood. No need to give a more precise location, seeing as most of Monaghan is in a vegetative state.?Beware of native trees; they tend to grow twisted.

Offaly: Zippy Mercury might encourage you to put the skids under those looooong Ooooofally inflections, but don’t get ahead of yourself. If you approach normal levels of communication skills too enthusiastically you might end up as Taoiseach. They’ll give the job to any ould nunky these days.?Beware offending statuesque Americans searching for their roots.

Roscommon: With Jupiter skulking halfway down the boreen, things could get prickly round Roscommon way. Keep your temper. You’re used to sharing principal towns with other counties and you’ve gotten by without a coastline up til now, so keep that famous, flat, sensible Roscommon head square on your flat, sensible shoulders and… Oi! try to stay awake, you at the back!?Beware of large, inland expanses of water, they’re fucking everywhere.

Sligo: Venus might be writhing at your moon, but you’d be well advised to sitting on any amorous feelings with those fertile Donegal men about. Don’t be fooled by flattery and the influence of ridiculous half-arsed arts festivals; you’re from the sexy county, and people want to plough your field.?Beware of anyone with glinty eyes and glinty pockets.

Tipperary: Saturn is your ruling planet, making you fertile and unwieldy and bi-polar. Being aware of this is key; you need to start acknowledging your split personality and anal penchant for dividing and sorting that which does not need to be divided or sorted.?Beware of Cork, it being right next door and all over the fucking shop.

Tyrone: You’re mysterious, and that could work well to your advantage this week. Or any week. I mean, you always have the element of surprise. No one knows anything about Tyrone.?Beware nothing; the rest of us are terrified of you.
Waterford: Conflict will be unavoidable if you don’t stop claiming to have a city down there. No one believes you.?Beware the glassy-eyed ould wans inviting you to picket. You just can’t win with them.

Westmeath: Your friends dismiss you as flat, daycent for a gallop, and well-paved, but now’s your time to shine. With Mars in your back pocket, you should be able to find the energy to hitch a lift out of fucking Westmeath. Maybe to Galway!?Beware of any offers to work on a “stud” there; stud doesn’t mean the same thing in Galway (bring condoms).

Wexford: Your ruling planet, the Sun, is in your eyes, so it’s worth considering buying a pair of dark glasses. Specsavers are said to be reasonable.?Beware of Dubs clogging up your deckchairs.

Wicklow: Now is the time to nurture those green fingers and begin or expand on that love affair with the great outdoors. All those gangland muppets buried up in the mountains have ripened the soil beautifully.?Beware of flirty cousins trying to steal your Mileys away from you for romps in the hayshed.

(This is an excerpt from Sweary’s blog?http://www.arseendofireland.com/ Sweary is the winner of the ‘09 blog?award for best humour blog)
Tagged as: Arse end of Ireland, Sweary