My Eye Witness Report from Dublin!
Published Saturday, February 25, 2006 by Kevin Breathnach | E-mail this post
I was in town today. Walking from Pearse Station to Grafton Street, I noticed that Kildare Street was blocked off by police. "Ah," I realise, "sure that Love Ulster thing is today." I thought no more of it, and went in to Waterstones to buy yet more books which I will never get around to reading. After a long, peaceful stroll with the books, I left - bag in hand - and bought a coffee across the road. Then I decided to go home, and began walking in the direction of Pearse Station. Lovely.
Before I had reached the brilliant Harry B's, I heard a strange, rumbling noise like that heard in films when an army is running towards the other. I pivoted the brilliant pivot which a famous PE teacher had taught me years ago. I saw bodies - many bodies - running in my direction. "Oh shit!," I thought I told myself; in fact, I said it aloud, for all the civilised people in Reads to hear. Everyone turned around to witness one thousand plus fairly drunken scumbags in Celtic shirts carrying street cones, poles and cans of Bulmers.
Being the curious young gentleman that I am, I decided I'd stay - perhaps follow - to watch whatever occurances might happen. I followed as far as Nassau Street's end, with some girl who asked to follow me because she was scared or something, and I'm glad that I did. Oh the cheers that I heard when the BMW was toppled! The Unionists had somehow been defeated at last! I heard one scumbag scream his hatred a those "lousy traitor free-state pawns" that we call police. "They're this way lads!" shouted one overly enthusiastic director of the overly enthusiastic "republicans." I then witnessed many people throwing the previously mentioned poles and traffic cones at police riot vans. What a civilised, mature people we have come to be.
I don't know if there was any violence on the Unionist side, but the soi-disant Nationalists really, really let themselves down today. The bastards. Even worse, all their drunken running made me spill some of my coffee on my arm. The bastards.
For better coverage, see The Dossing Times.
Before I had reached the brilliant Harry B's, I heard a strange, rumbling noise like that heard in films when an army is running towards the other. I pivoted the brilliant pivot which a famous PE teacher had taught me years ago. I saw bodies - many bodies - running in my direction. "Oh shit!," I thought I told myself; in fact, I said it aloud, for all the civilised people in Reads to hear. Everyone turned around to witness one thousand plus fairly drunken scumbags in Celtic shirts carrying street cones, poles and cans of Bulmers.
Being the curious young gentleman that I am, I decided I'd stay - perhaps follow - to watch whatever occurances might happen. I followed as far as Nassau Street's end, with some girl who asked to follow me because she was scared or something, and I'm glad that I did. Oh the cheers that I heard when the BMW was toppled! The Unionists had somehow been defeated at last! I heard one scumbag scream his hatred a those "lousy traitor free-state pawns" that we call police. "They're this way lads!" shouted one overly enthusiastic director of the overly enthusiastic "republicans." I then witnessed many people throwing the previously mentioned poles and traffic cones at police riot vans. What a civilised, mature people we have come to be.
I don't know if there was any violence on the Unionist side, but the soi-disant Nationalists really, really let themselves down today. The bastards. Even worse, all their drunken running made me spill some of my coffee on my arm. The bastards.
For better coverage, see The Dossing Times.
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