Monday, February 22, 2010

Hold my hand on take off

Monday, February 22, 2010
It's difficult to hide one's true nature on a 180km cycle. Turns out I'm stupid, brave but predominately a bit of a cunt. And an ungrateful one at that. Stop to pick up a tenner that flies out of my pocket? I'm going to spit you out the rear of the chasing pack without so much as a backwards glance. Drag me along the N11 for the best part of an hour? I'm going to drop your ass on the first hint of a half reasonable climb. Spend some considerable time gentle schooling me in the art of up and overs? I'm latching on to the first faster bunch that I find so that I might practise my new found skills. Gimme, gimme, gimme. I'll take, take, take.

I may be a talentless wheelsucker with nothing but a decent engine and five weeks off the booze and fags going for me but this much I share with another Eddie, I don't give gifts and I expect pas de fucking cadeaux in return.


I would like to thank whoever nominated my unproductive ass for a Blog Award. I would like to, but I won't. My big gay priest one made the longest long list on the WWW. It's hard to ignore, that fucking list. Everyone tweets it, or emails you about it, or emails you about other people emailing them about it. Turns out every active and inactive blog in Ireland was long-listed this year, except for one, but then there were complaints and now that one's been nominated too.

So here is my promise. If I get short listed, like down to the last four or five or whatever, then I will cycle to Galway. 218 kilometres into the wind with only Mr. M to shield me from the elements. And if I win? If I win I will clomp cleated to the stage in my lycra, helmet and road dusted shades and let forth such an elitist, nay fascist, diatribe on how much better than every website in the world must surely be. And then, because I don't drink any more and there would be no point hanging around hoping to be bought cocktails I will walk away through the boos and catcalls and hurled pint glasses with credits playing in my mind's eye and Aimee Mann's Pavlov's Dog playing in my mind's ear and all the credits will read 'Gimme'. Especially Gaffer. But especially Best Boy. And most especially Starring. Gimme, Gimme and Gimme.

21 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Manuel said...


and I will stand and clap you off the stage as they through things at you and sent tweets about you....I will

Radge said...


I didn't get one.

Shouldn't have slagged off God.

Poxy intersphere.

Postman said...

Don't worry. I'll try not to throw my glass at you. Depends on whether I got an award or not.

Twenty Major said...

I, for one, would very much enjoy such a diatribe.

ps - the word verification for this post was 'gimey'. A sign. Perhaps that dyslexia is the real winner, but still.

Twenty Major said...

And write more you slack cunt.

Rosie said...

a post!

i got all excited. but it's about cycling and the blog awards.

grimsaburger said...

DItto on the writing and the slacking and cunting.

I will wish fervently for your victory even though I won't be able to see it anywhere but in my mind's eye. And because I don't know what you look like, I will imagine you as a mix between One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Brad Dourif and Deadwood Brad Dourif, with a hint of Mad Max in all that lycra. My apologies if you're very handsome, but the post-apocalyptic eye-buggy craziness would suit the moment, I think.

Conan Drumm said...

You're a cert, so away with you in Mr M's slipstream to the city of the diatribes.

sassysundry said...

Please make sure someone records it. I don't have nearly enough diatribes from lycra-clad fascists in my life.

Happy to see a post. Good for you for quitting smoking. Yet again, I find myself in need of doing the same thing. Sigh.

gimme a minute said...

I'm pretty confident that I won't be going. But I'll write my speech anyway and you can give it for me.

Jeez, even I know better than that.

I'm unclear as to which result will lead to glass throwing.

You write more. How about a poem? When's the Twenty poetry blog starting?

Tough shit.

That is almost exactly what I look like. But also very handsome.

Yes, well, we'll see. If conjuring my dead brother didn't pull enough shortlisting heartstrings I doubt this one will do much more.

I don't know how I do it really. I just flick a switch in my brain and it doesn't seem hard. Exercising within an inch of my life certainly helps though.

fatmammycat said...

"That is almost exactly what I look like."
Oh such lies, Grims open up a copy of Bloom County, you'll find him.

I too would welcome such a speech.

Andrew said...

Why the fuck do the types never land in on your blog and start leaving hurt comments at this type of post?

I'm not writing another one to draw them all out this year. I'm not.

Medbh said...

FMC told me about this after we watched an awful film.
Do it.
He will love it and I will get there ahead of you sweaty types on the train.

Twenty Major said...

You write more. How about a poem? When's the Twenty poetry blog starting?

There once was a blogger called Gimme ...

fuck that

gimme a minute said...

Oh, you. You'll be glad to hear my hair is once more approaching planetary size.

Why not? Lazy fucker. Anyway, they're above all that, I'm sure.

I need to reiterate: there is no way I'm doing this unless I'm am very short listed. And even then I'll most likely think up some avoidance excuse. Because seriously, not Dublin? Who thought that shit up?

Precisely my attitude.

Manuel said...

just tweet it...they'll love you for it....ha

Red Leeroy said...

I'd join you on the cycle but I'd be scared to go in though. People might talk about me in the jacks while I was trying to make friends. I couldn't be two places at once.

quid nunc said...

"I'm more than just children, bicycles and rage, you know."

I have yet to see it.

Conan Drumm said...

Liking the new layout, but where's your copy?

savannah said...

hello? still around? and hey, there's conan, i just posted about y'all the other day...xoxox

Eolai said...

Aha - they've done you. Time to weasel out of the cycle now. I did that one once, without Mr M's wind resistance. Back when I was tall and skinny. A long day of 135 miles(we used miles back then). Not doing it again.

Getting closer to Clomp clomp, clomp go the cleats, and that speech.

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