Irish Taxi Forum
Public Area => Taxi Talk => Topic started by: Ollie Eyebrow on September 14, 2022, 03:01:08 pm
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First Taxi Fare
The dirty shower of rotten bastards on the Croppy Acre’s dog-marked soccer pitch called him Ollie Eyebrow but in school the scarlet cheating rabble-rousing lots caters called him the Ham Roll Man. Ollie was most definitely a few cans short of a full six-pack but he carried down the path regardless with mint infused confidence. He was kind and honest, but he often got into trouble. His nitwit bald head and narrow-stretched longneck resembled a one-arm chrome plated pull-lever in Barney’s beside the best-loved 101 Talbot. Ollie really was in desperate need of spondulix and with no real far-reaching business plan to hand, he decided there and then it was time to rent a taxi.
After calling Caxi Tab Rental in Jamestown, Ollie jumped a rather special express bus to Finglas Junction with three rose-tinted brass monkeys whistling down the back, so he walked the rest of the way. A sandy arid classic English red-brick industrial estate building sitting in bleak limbo at the dry delinquent end of a chock-a-block M50 bore the full bitter brunt of the grim cooped up cheerless taxi rental enterprise. Standing sturdily by the damp mouldering paperwork cluttered back office wall, a burly tenacious four drawer unyielding steel blue secure metal filing cabinet, with a vow to defend, was keeping a watchful guard. Leaf stained Royal Albert Sweet Country Plum fine bone china tea cups handcrafted by an independent potter in Burslem sat in wonderful harmony at the losing edge of a heavy mid-century straight-grained mahogany desk. Two muscular, brindle coated hellhound terriers with coal black bloodthirsty unholy red eyes were darting and sniffing about every withered nook and cranny. A slowly deformed wrinkle-grey see-through angel with translucent insincere galvanised spinster eyes under authentic musty ringlet rag-curls focused sharp and screamed silent at Ollie over a brutal antique Victorian ornate brass frame mirror. A pencil-thin pointed tail shot back under the desk as the menacing colourless creature grinned and leaned forward for a better look. There was evil in the air and thundering footsteps upstairs but Ollie held sway against the timeless wickedness and snares of these dissonant devils.
“Pearl, sit down,” bellowed the giant black-eyeglassed monster seated opposite.
Old Hob Finnegan had over two hundred used and abused rude taxi rentals on the road, a well-oiled leather strap duck's arse haircut and he loved playing chess, drinking vodka and barking aggressively at dogs. Old Hob’s grainy jowls rested heavily on his bulging fat head which clenched firestone wicked eyes that moved quick sharp, just like a red robin on high alert. His exclusive retro jet-black matt metal framed spectacles divided the horizon by an elegant bright narrow needle of white which sat neatly on his spongy sourdough puckered nose. A thick ample signature yellow gold wedding band mounded Old Hob’s stump, committed and puttied ring finger. He wore a jute twill-twine purple polo shirt and a frayed coffee-coloured big-fit vintage corduroy jacket with well-spent highland tweed elbow patches. Thirty years driving taxi at night painted coarse and hardened detail on the cement textured face of this steadfast wealthy bouldered soul. Leaning all the way back in his executive chair shaking his fascinating preoccupied head, Old Hob Finnegan put his patterned feet on the antique desk and watched Ollie closely.
“I’ll tell you there’s only two rules for this here game pal,” spilled Old Hob. “If they look wrong they are wrong and don’t drive if you’re tired.”
New Hob Jr. stepped quietly into the jumbled Caxi Tab office wearing electric blue dungarees, a skillfully crafted genuine natural straw player pork pie hat and he was chewing like the dickens on a spent silver bullet. He was a slender red-faced taciturn young man with medium length platinum blonde hair, a terribly over-sized mouth and a truly irritable disposition. He didn’t say too much, just lowered and raised his head slightly and looked sideways in Ollie’s direction. A furrowed, dirty overall mechanic, deep hurried and hidden in the murky greasy mess, was prying here and there from a dimly lit purgatory pit workshop out the back.
“Sign here bargain bin and you’re done,” said Old Hob.
The rental taxi was a charmingly old-fashioned, dusty, bashed up and damaged peacock green dilapidated jalopy with broken 4x2 timbered headlights loose inside. Tattered shabby weather-beaten Caxi Tab vinyl stickers were palmed off-centre across the exhausted hollow driver and dented front passenger doors. The niffy cracked interior of the adorable feather marred rental taxi was as depreciated as the aforementioned lacklustre fish bone sew-on and so forth elbow patches. Ollie would later turbo-handball the car silently into the idle orange streetlamp lit road ramp on the Grange Road at half four in the morning. He headed hell-bent directly to the petrol station for premium unleaded and a delicious fill of hot roast coffee on this cold fresh early December morning. The sun was shining, the weather was sweet and the city traffic was busy bumblebee with all of nature running wild and free. It was eleven bells. The justly common were determinedly heading italicised into town to buy carpet loads of what they didn’t need with hard-earned money they just didn’t have.
“Earn a few quid, learn the ropes” Ollie thought, “see if you like it.”
A pale skinny happy-hipster with black cruddy hair and standard issue courtroom grey tracksuit bottoms moseyed on over to Ollie.
“What's the story bud,” he countered, “Are you headin' into town?”
“Do I know you?” said Ollie.
“No,” said the hipster, “You’re a Jo Maxi?”
“Sorry bud, I forgot it’s a taxi,” replied Ollie, “I’m not goin’ into town.”
After paying for the juice in vulgar coins, Ollie bailed quicksmart like the hammers, down the main drag in the beautiful shabby blue-green, eye-patterned, badass banger under the exposed rust-corroded wrought iron railway bridge to the coast road and on up to Howth. As he forgot to take his tablets the night before, he was as nervous to the goolies and wanted to get a feel for the winsome motor before engine runup and systems check. He took a left hammer under a bright yellow height restriction barrier and pointed the car to the clear glass sea. The spirited fishmonger with the recognisable van out front was selling fresh fish to the crowd and Ollie marked this day as one to remember. All he needed was a sharp yellow pencil, a handy eraser and the gospel truth. Eggshell white sailing poles and double braided marine ropes chattered and called out to one another, twisting in the cool gentle breeze, broken only by the stuttered cry of loud shirty grey gull birds crying and swooping to-and-fro. Beside the distinct Pay & Display parking signs he stood staring at the sea, taking in the ever-changing fresh forever blue. Holding the chain-link fence, Ollie knew that each fleeting moment of blinding light on water was meticulously placed by the same hand that painstakingly bestowed life in Michelangelo's Creation of Adam back in 1510.
Ollie bounced his slender back right into the worn out bygone genuine leather seat real nice and comfy, touched the cruddy stiff-shift gear stick and then clenched his sinewy veined hands nimbly on the inky wax steering wheel, thumbs stretched out horizontally and touching. He took a deep breath to fill his lungs and exhale slowly. The sun hit the dashboard quietly and dust floated randomly in the trip of the light fantastic. The creeping shadow of winter-sun fingers cautiously touched over the copper bracelet lightly and rested gently on the soft brown hair of Ollie’s clay tanned arm. Mottled grime illuminated the gritty windscreen, each distinct particle working hard to find its place amongst the heavenly stars of this vibrant and unnoticed galaxy. Ollie said an act of contrition, fired up the cab and took off like a fallen angel in the direction of town without checking his wings. Biting his lip and scrunching his mush, Ollie let the soft marshmallow sound of the four red-hot rumbling rubber brimstones on the stained and peppered road fill his big pink ears.
A respectable and clean small 1.0-litre black car passed on the left and made him feel all bright, shiny and new while temporary shadows poured onto the tarmac mosaic of a trillion tiles. Ollie stopped hard at a green light where a rather attractive lady crossed the road with a bike and a patterned bag on front. Another bag facing in the opposite direction looked with contemptuous haughtiness from her midnight blue people carrier. The impatient driver in the car behind beeped, battled and roared. Ollie avoided the hectic glare by looking straight ahead, giving a good account of himself in a bid to save his hammered soul. Another car beeped to cut inside and a delightfully narky knickered golfer in a brand spanking new jeep shouted “Relax ya thick!” at a small tormented lollipop red car.
Tokyo Joe smiled and waited at the lights to cross whilst Anguished Anne stood holding the black painted railings, talking to another red-haired woman. Dark iron oxide liquid poured quickly down from the split cut at the side of her clammy vanilla cream forehead. Her mouth was open in turmoil and she had very sad eyes. An ambulance passed with its emergency lights flashing. Ollie carried on. The sea on the left and green grass where they played, oil tanks, buildings, chimneys, mountains and then sky. The wind brushed by his ear ghostly cold. Passing the forward plodding clowns and tear-jerking jokers in cars and bars along the way, Ollie saw how each one was searching for meaning in each other. He blessed himself passing the stone church and looked at the aerospace grade sky rockets already primed for the afternoon.
It was a slow day; the sun was beating and there she was in the jungle by the side of the road. A dedicated, determined tall brave middle-aged soul with outstretched arm ready to hire and become Ollie’s first taxi fare. He pulled up alongside and she jumped in the back wearing a smart, tidy battleship navy ladies' trouser suit and supporting a trendy strawberry blonde one-length bob cut that sat just above her willow shoulders.
“Fitzwilliam Square,” she said, “or as close as you can get me.”
“No bother,” said Ollie, “Strap yourself in and thanks for the business.”
Northside southbound, Ollie hit the meter and checked his wings before shooting off at an unearthly speed not exceeding the legal limit. He kept his big trap shut to catch no flies and Bossy-Boots stayed on her phone with an occasional glance out the window.
The passing cars sounded like sandpaper on ice.
Down the North Strand they flew, soaring past the highly decorated, no-go steel toe Five Lamps, flying through the eye of a needle and under the watching frown of Connolly Station. Stopped at the lights on Amiens Street they listened to the sound of a lonely Scottish piper and the hurried footsteps of a lady crossing diagonally at the lights. A tall chap in a Bordeaux wine jacket and Toblerone cream trousers paused beside a tartan pram pusher to scratch his bum and look up to the heavens above. By binding himself to this lot he certainly destroyed the whole kit and kaboodle. Around the bend and over the Matt Talbot bridge they glided like children in unison at the Dingle funfair on individually-carved merry-go-round pony chariots. They drove down City Quay and crossed Townsend to the tune of the next big thing dancefloor banger and past Nichols' the dignified undertakers. Sweeping by a thronged convenience store and the place where workers toiled solemnly from morning ‘til night to carry out their famous white sliced bread. They were told that their cars were built for a better world. Perhaps it’s true.
On arrival Bossy-Boots asked for a receipt but Ollie didn’t have a pen nor paper on his whereabouts. She tore paper from a spiral notebook and passed over a somewhat exquisite rollerball pen. Ollie scribbled a receipt, thanked her and off she cruised swiftly into the foggy wild like Tom without a writing instrument. As a bee collects nectar from an attractive flower Ollie knew this was the job for him. He spun the car around, again not checking his wings, and headed straight for Barry the Butcher in Mountjoy Square to grab some receipt rolls with the Carriage Office limited edition platinum plated pen. Unfortunately, Ollie knocked Enid’s Plod off a ladder on the way and he had to stay in the hospital for a few days.
Peadar O Dea
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Ken??
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Is he outa John M's shed at the back of the flats?
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Ken??
Its Very well written ...
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I tink its kens response to me question of wat he was doin wit his life before he snuffs it O:-)
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Ken??
Its Very well written ...
???????? its bolloxology semi illiterate drivel .
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Ken??
Its Very well written ...
???????? its bolloxology semi illiterate drivel .
Ah it's not that bad Johnny....I tink its Ken...but author seem to have a knowledge of Dublin ...
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You post your work you take the critism .Silver is my greatest Critic but thats the Game .
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Thanks for the kind words Octavia1, much appreciated. Ollie
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Thanks for the kind words Octavia1, much appreciated. Ollie
Don't mention it Oliver...quite enjoyable
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There's a Twist in here somewhere....
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If you think that's bad John m, wait 'til I tell you about Ollie's second taxi fare.
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Ken??
Its Very well written ...
Ermy discovered Grammarly. I managed to scroll past, exec sum?
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Anyhow, you'll have to forgive me for the spelling mistakes but I wrote the story on a quiet Tuesday night whilst sitting on the rank in O'Devaney Gardens
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Whats a valued contributor?
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Whats a valued contributor?
A philantropissed
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Anyhow, you'll have to forgive me for the spelling mistakes but I wrote the story on a quiet Tuesday night whilst sitting on the rank in O'Devaney Gardens
Didn't know ther was a rank ther Ken...eh I mean Oliver oops
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Ken??
Nope ! Not me Bubba.
Fer starters I have a very different type of punctuation and little knowledge of Doob city.
But the poster did not write this article on here as some of his punctuation graphics are not available on this forum, so it was copied and pasted from somewhere else to here, possibly overseas.
At a very Wild guess I would go fer ex-pat Dooblin Taxi driver (or his son) now living in Canada.
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Exec sum:
“I’ll tell you there’s only two rules for this here game pal,” spilled the Devil himself. “If they look wrong they are wrong and don’t drive if you’re tired.”
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Ken??
Nope ! Not me Bubba.
Fer starters I have a very different type of punctuation and little knowledge of Doob city.
But the poster did not write this article on here as some of his punctuation graphics are not available on this forum, so it was copied and pasted from somewhere else to here, possibly overseas.
At a very Wild guess I would go fer ex-pat Dooblin Taxi driver (or his son) now living in Canada.
I taut it was a smashing piece Ken...I was riveted.....
Well done ::clap
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Drive on through the wind and the rain,
Look for the beauty in the dull and mundane...
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Drive on through the wind and the rain,
Look for the beauty in the dull and mundane...
Inspirational!!
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Anyhow, you'll have to forgive me for the spelling mistakes but I wrote the story on a quiet Tuesday night whilst sitting on the rank in O'Devaney Gardens
You must have held on to the story for a few years, O'D. Gardens are gone and there was never a rank there. 8)
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Drive on through the wind and the rain,
Look for the beauty in the dull and mundane...
Inspirational!!
Absolutely hal ....we hav a literary scholar on taxi chat ... tings ar lookin up .. :2cheers
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Anyhow, you'll have to forgive me for the spelling mistakes but I wrote the story on a quiet Tuesday night whilst sitting on the rank in O'Devaney Gardens
You must have held on to the story for a few years, O'D. Gardens are gone and there was never a rank there. 8)
Artistic licence bullits ....strumpet City was full of geographical errors ....a piece of art without flaw alienates the reader or viewer of a fine paintin or great book ....
Sure I was watchin Ben hur one day an I seen a bloke wearin jeans in the background...it actually made the film more believable for some inexplicable reason ....
Art is full of deliberate mistakes ...yu havin a keen photografic eye can probably immediately spot the deliberate mistake in this monet for example :)
(https://i.postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN/457-xl.jpg) (https://postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN)
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As Bob Ross ( God be good to him ) said
"We don't make mistakes....we make happy accidents " lol
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Ireland, not Canada - proud, grateful, one-car-one-plate Dublin taxi driver
Not a literary scholar - Grade D Leaving Cert. English - tnx 4 compliment
Warts-and-all mistakes are part and parcel - work towards capturing the vernacular
First story published, to its rightful place - write what you know about, a good tale well told - simples
Sincere tnx to those who've directed their (right-thinking) minds in posting under story
good, bad or downright indifferent
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Next classic stories in the pipeline, all of which happened in and about or around Ollie Eyebrow's taxi:
Ollie and the Vampire
Ollie goes to the Moon
Ollie finds on-street parking in Tullamore
plus lots more...
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...... I taut it was a smashing piece Ken...I was riveted.....
Well done ::clap
I would love to take the credit Octy, but it's not my work.
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It sorta proves that you dont know …..WTF anybody is on blog sites and what alias they use.The article was very good, whoever you are? ::cheers
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It sorta proves that you dont know …..WTF anybody is on blog sites and what alias they use.The article was very good, whoever you are? ::cheers
"Every gun makes it's own tune" !
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Ireland, not Canada - proud, grateful, one-car-one-plate Dublin taxi driver
Not a literary scholar - Grade D Leaving Cert. English - tnx 4 compliment
Warts-and-all mistakes are part and parcel - work towards capturing the vernacular
First story published, to its rightful place - write what you know about, a good tale well told - simples
Sincere tnx to those who've directed their (right-thinking) minds in posting under story
good, bad or downright indifferent
***
Next classic stories in the pipeline, all of which happened in and about or around Ollie Eyebrow's taxi:
Ollie and the Vampire
Ollie goes to the Moon
Ollie finds on-street parking in Tullamore
plus lots more...
***
Ah heeyor, can`t have that Ollie. You need a stand alone thread for your jibber. Ken has one, you should have one too. Can we have "onstreet parking" next.
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Drive on through the wind and the rain,
Look for the beauty in the dull and mundane...
Inspirational!!
The first half is a line from Crowded House's song "How will you go. The second is a rejigging of Beauty in the mundane by "Bird of Figment".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItLJnlRF9vQ (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItLJnlRF9vQ) 8)
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“You post your work you take the critism,” the poster declared. “that's the game.”
The first half is a quote from John m's post "Re: First Taxi Fare". The second part is a rejigging of "Re: First Taxi Fare" in John m's post "Re: First Taxi Fare".
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Ireland, not Canada - proud, grateful, one-car-one-plate Dublin taxi driver
Not a literary scholar - Grade D Leaving Cert. English - tnx 4 compliment
Warts-and-all mistakes are part and parcel - work towards capturing the vernacular
First story published, to its rightful place - write what you know about, a good tale well told - simples
Sincere tnx to those who've directed their (right-thinking) minds in posting under story
good, bad or downright indifferent
***
Next classic stories in the pipeline, all of which happened in and about or around Ollie Eyebrow's taxi:
Ollie and the Vampire
Ollie goes to the Moon
Ollie finds on-street parking in Tullamore
plus lots more...
***
" Ollie an the vampire " ....sounds smashin......me blood is curdling wit anticipation already :D
How bout ollie an frankie the body snatchers?
That be riveting aswell ....
Anyway welcome Oliver
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Anyhow, you'll have to forgive me for the spelling mistakes but I wrote the story on a quiet Tuesday night whilst sitting on the rank in O'Devaney Gardens
You must have held on to the story for a few years, O'D. Gardens are gone and there was never a rank there. 8)
Artistic licence bullits ....strumpet City was full of geographical errors ....a piece of art without flaw alienates the reader or viewer of a fine paintin or great book ....
Sure I was watchin Ben hur one day an I seen a bloke wearin jeans in the background...it actually made the film more believable for some inexplicable reason ....
Art is full of deliberate mistakes ...yu havin a keen photografic eye can probably immediately spot the deliberate mistake in this monet for example :)
(https://i.postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN/457-xl.jpg) (https://postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN)
I don't know - but I'd find the reversed shadow, or lack thereof of the actual magpie irritating.
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Anyhow, you'll have to forgive me for the spelling mistakes but I wrote the story on a quiet Tuesday night whilst sitting on the rank in O'Devaney Gardens
You must have held on to the story for a few years, O'D. Gardens are gone and there was never a rank there. 8)
Artistic licence bullits ....strumpet City was full of geographical errors ....a piece of art without flaw alienates the reader or viewer of a fine paintin or great book ....
Sure I was watchin Ben hur one day an I seen a bloke wearin jeans in the background...it actually made the film more believable for some inexplicable reason ....
Art is full of deliberate mistakes ...yu havin a keen photografic eye can probably immediately spot the deliberate mistake in this monet for example :)
(https://i.postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN/457-xl.jpg) (https://postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN)
I don't know - but I'd find the reversed shadow, or lack thereof of the actual magpie irritating.
lol
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Anyhow, you'll have to forgive me for the spelling mistakes but I wrote the story on a quiet Tuesday night whilst sitting on the rank in O'Devaney Gardens
You must have held on to the story for a few years, O'D. Gardens are gone and there was never a rank there. 8)
Artistic licence bullits ....strumpet City was full of geographical errors ....a piece of art without flaw alienates the reader or viewer of a fine paintin or great book ....
Sure I was watchin Ben hur one day an I seen a bloke wearin jeans in the background...it actually made the film more believable for some inexplicable reason ....
Art is full of deliberate mistakes ...yu havin a keen photografic eye can probably immediately spot the deliberate mistake in this monet for example :)
(https://i.postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN/457-xl.jpg) (https://postimg.cc/pmVZ2QWN)
I don't know - but I'd find the reversed shadow, or lack thereof of the actual magpie irritating.
Well spotted bullit, that was annoying me.
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(https://i.postimg.cc/4nxMnrsy/29278.jpg) (https://postimg.cc/4nxMnrsy)
Jesus oops
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Is there not a bird (magpie) on top of the fence?
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Is there not a bird (magpie) on top of the fence?
Yes watty ...but it's shadow is inverted .....a mistake monet cudnt have made by accident....
Perhaps put ther to create controversy or make it a talkin point so as to gain attention an promotion
Perhaps ?
But I can't believe a man with his eye cud of done it by accident....
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Maybe he was saying " I've mastered me craft ...an even wit a flaw nobody can paint as good as me ....or real perfection is flawed ....or maybe flaws enhance beauty.......
Cant imagine Marilyn Monroe without her mole .... symmetry bores us sort o ting maybe ? oops
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Thanks for your kind words of welcome Octavia1.
Your generosity is only exceeded by your outstanding good looks and warm-hearted charm.
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But hold on tight O., you might need that crucifix yet...
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This is a true story that Ollie Eyebrow told me and it's about the night he gave carriage to a vampire in his taxi.
Please excuse my spelling and confused wording but I'm awful nervous telling back this tale.
Now from from what I gather, the whole thing played out in, about and around Ollie's taxi, across Dublin and possibly going on into County Meath, eighteen years ago during a nip-numb November that encapsulated the Feast of All Saints and All Souls and was as cold to be fucked as a witch's tit in a brass bra.
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So please gather 'round my fellow friends and without further ado, I present to you,
Ollie and the Vampire
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Thanks for your kind words of welcome Octavia1.
Your generosity is only exceeded by your outstanding good looks and warm-hearted charm.
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But hold on tight O., you might need that crucifix yet...
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This is a true story that Ollie Eyebrow told me and it's about the night he gave carriage to a vampire in his taxi.
Please excuse my spelling and confused wording but I'm awful nervous telling back this tale.
Now from from what I gather, the whole thing played out in, about and around Ollie's taxi, across Dublin and possibly going on into County Meath, eighteen years ago during a nip-numb November that encapsulated the Feast of All Saints and All Souls and was as cold to be fucked as a witch's tit in a brass bra.
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So please gather 'round my fellow friends and without further ado, I present to you,
Ollie and the Vampire
Jesus olllie ...wat an introduction ::clap...I havin even read it yet ....an I'm shitten meself oops
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(https://i.postimg.cc/wy3wQ4gH/Draculalee.jpg) (https://postimg.cc/wy3wQ4gH)
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The story I'm going to tell you will change the way you think, forever.
I feel it's my duty to offer some useful advice and cautionary words of warning to you as a reader, at the outset, as Ollie offered me, so that you are safe and well protected throughout your reading journey and will use the salmon gathered, if so needed, going forward.
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*** MOST IMPORTANT!!! -- READER WARNING 1.0 ***
DON'T PAY THE TAXIMAN - This IS IMPORTANT - so please do remember this advice:
Whatever you do, no matter what, DON'T pay the taximan (or woman).
Do NOT do any form of deal with them, no matter what, even if they ask you a hundred times and goes so far as to knick knack knock the bloody belt-strap bollox outta ya.
Again, don't pay the taximan until they get you to the end of your journey"
*** END READER WARNING 1.0 ***
more to follow >>
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Thanks Bubba Ho-Tep for your kind words, much appreciated. Ollie
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*** BEGIN READER WARNING 2.3 ***
Ollie and the Vampire is probably safe enough to read for most people. However, people with uncontrolled high blood pressure and heart disease should probably check with their G.P. before reading.
Here are some general precautions to take:
Avoid alcohol and medications that may impair sweating and produce overheating before and after you read.
Read in an open space for no more than 15–20 minutes.
Cool down gradually afterward with an ice cold glass of milk straight from the fridge.
Drink two to four glasses of cool water after each read.
Don't have a read when you are ill, and if you feel unwell during your read, head out for a quick stint of taxi driving, a brisk healthy walk or even head to the pub.
*** END READER WARNING 2.3 ***
more to follow >>
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*** BEGIN READER WARNING 2.3.5 ***
Again, Ollie and the Vampire is probably safe enough to read for most people.
But if you feel unwell during your read, DO NOT head out for a quick stint of taxi driving. A brisk healthy walk or even a rest in bed is probably a much better idea.
*** END READER WARNING 2.3.5 ***
more to follow >>
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And finally,
*** BEGIN READER WARNING 34.65.002 ***
If you're affected by any of the close-grained ridiculous nonsense or dishonourable and meandering skulduggery that unfold during the course of Ollie and the Vampire, I suggest you, as a reader, go and read something else that's actually worthwhile and has some real meaning.
*** END READER WARNING 34.65.002 ***
BTW, if anyone wants to get in early and purchase the rights to Ollie and the Vampire please let me know. I could really do with the sponds to beat the "10-year rule".
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(https://gif-free.com/uploads/posts/2017-10/1507966980_michael-jackson-eating-popcorn.gif)
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First Taxi Fare
The dirty shower of rotten bastards on the Croppy Acre’s dog-marked soccer pitch called him Ollie Eyebrow but in school the scarlet cheating rabble-rousing lots caters called him the Ham Roll Man. .........................
Peadar O Dea
Why do the words 'Peadar O Dea' feature at the end of the tale ?
https://disabilityarts.online/blog/bram-a-poe/set-your-eyes-on-me-once-more/
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Iz this a true picture of Ollie
https://jackybethart.wordpress.com/2018/11/19/how-to-paint-eyebrows-in-four-easy-steps-digital-painting/
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First Taxi Fare
The dirty shower of rotten bastards on the Croppy Acre’s dog-marked soccer pitch called him Ollie Eyebrow but in school the scarlet cheating rabble-rousing lots caters called him the Ham Roll Man. .........................
Peadar O Dea
Why do the words 'Peadar O Dea' feature at the end of the tale ?
https://disabilityarts.online/blog/bram-a-poe/set-your-eyes-on-me-once-more/
Its a lad with a blog who writes posting links here to get readers .
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(https://gif-free.com/uploads/posts/2017-10/1507966980_michael-jackson-eating-popcorn.gif)
lol
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First Taxi Fare
The dirty shower of rotten bastards on the Croppy Acre’s dog-marked soccer pitch called him Ollie Eyebrow but in school the scarlet cheating rabble-rousing lots caters called him the Ham Roll Man. .........................
Peadar O Dea
Why do the words 'Peadar O Dea' feature at the end of the tale ?
https://disabilityarts.online/blog/bram-a-poe/set-your-eyes-on-me-once-more/
Its a lad with a blog who writes posting links here to get readers .
I taut it was Ken tryin to rejuvenate his literary career ....
>:( :)
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I think Oily deserves his own thread. 8)
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I think Oily deserves his own thread. 8)
Absolutely.....over on Boards.ie!!
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I think Oily deserves his own thread. 8)
Absolutely.....over on Boards.ie!!
+1
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Its Poor Drivel .The Standard of Writing on here is way beyond his literary talent .Without blowing me own trumpet Meself and Ken burned better .
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I liked the tale, but there were so many adjectives and over exaggerated descriptions that it made it hard reading.
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What was the-point of alias OLLIE ?? Someone bored?
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Ollie and the Vampire
Here's the next teriffically, terrible tall tale about Ollie Eyebrow, the happy chappie with the nitwit titwit bald head and narrow-stretched longneck resembling a chrome plated one-arm pull-lever in any feckin' family-fun arcade.
Ollie belongs to Peadar O Dea, so you can stick that where Molly stuck the rent, and he tells the tale of his delightfully dodgy dealings and moody misadventures as he drives his beautifully dilapidated, peacock green, trashed-up taxi across the length and breadth of the city and surrounding countryside. Ollie is kind and honest, but he often gets into trouble, especially when he forgets to take his tablets the night before. Ollie works extremely hard and risks his life driving night and day to put food on the table, pay bills and keep the big bad wolf from the door.
A big thank you to those wonderful souls who've directed their occupied minds to post comments to date - good, bad or downright indifferent because it is your words that give me a reason to write.
And remember you lot, just be careful out there!
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Listen Ollie…Im after been spending loads of time reading your stuff an I tells you that your after been wasting me time…Ya see….there was no mention of a vampire in it…not even a drop of blood?……So me thinks I wont be after spending any more time reading your stuff again.
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Think its just a copy of a story he got off the tinternet?
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Parting sign off from the late great Phil Esterhaus !
Lets hear some more Ollie !
......Ollie belongs to Peadar O Dea, ......
So are you Peadar ?
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"Mind your little taxi Oliie" said Mum, "'cause money's hard to come by."
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Down to 1 liners now?
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"Mind your little taxi Oliie" said Mum, "'cause money's hard to come by."
Things not looking so bright when an author can't spell his own name !
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Beginning to look like Little Britain around here..... "I`m the only story teller in the village"
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'Twas a grim nip-numb November that encapsulated the Feast of All Saints and All Souls in the waning year of our Lord 2004 and was as c-c-cold as a witch's tit in a brass bra on a wrapped-up Wednesday night when these extraordinary strange events played out in and around Ollie's tattered taxi.
The freezing spade-blackened ice latched hard fast to cold grave silent roads like smooth gloss-marbled floors reposing in an intense and charmingly flamboyant 1436 Florentine cathedral.
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It can only be the special. Octy
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Oily, does your vampire use soiled tampons as teabags? 8)
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Oily, does your vampire use soiled tampons as teabags? 8)
Ah here ....fuk sake ...I'm having me dinner >:(
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It can only be the special. Octy
Wat ya mean " special " cools :-[
I'm not ollie ...I can hardly rite me name ....
Anyway wat happened to the Vampire story?
I was like a kid waitin for the new Harry Potter book to come out ....
Very dissapointin ....
???
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It can only be the special. Octy
Wat ya mean " special " cools :-[
I'm not ollie ...I can hardly rite me name ....
Anyway wat happened to the Vampire story?
I was like a kid waitin for the new Harry Potter book to come out ....
Very dissapointin ....
???
+ Wan.
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The rich autumn leaves no longer crunched underfoot but accumulated in accepting layers like penurious dark soggy pancakes.
Ollie had since moved up a rung in the absorbing trick-trap race, clutching tight to the base of the slippery ladder. Having restored the charming Caxi Tab rental back to an exhausted and fiery Old Hob, Ollie was delighted to be driving his own fully city council licensed, metallic purple, badass-bucket-of-bolts taxi.
He pulled a slow unhurried left off the deadly, warm welcoming Burlington four on one roundabout after dropping off Sinbad, a sweet talkin' six-foot sailor from Singapore, his second cousin Finbar, a fairly well fed, not-so-friendly farmer from Fermoy, his new partner Lucia, a long-legged, land-loving lecturer from Limerick with rings on her generous taxi-tipping fingers and ting-a-ling tea bells on her twinkle-cut toes and Kevin, a calm and collected clerical officer from just outside Kinnegad and Tobago.
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Would you ever fuck off .My first post on her exposed you as a talentless Fucktard .You lack any literary talent .We are not interested in your drivel Fuck off .
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Would you ever fuck off .My first post on her exposed you as a talentless Fucktard .You lack any literary talent .We are not interested in your drivel Fuck off .
I don't know Johnny.....his openin paragraph is poetry....
"The rich autumn leaves no longer crunched underfoot but accumulated in accepting layers like penurious dark soggy pancakes"
Marvellous
I do hope it's not plagiarised from henminway or Oscar wilde .....but it's masterful use of the inglish language.....
As regards drivel?
Wer all guilty of that .....giv the poor bloke a chance ....
Even Shakespeare had to start somewhere...an that hamlet ting I did in me inter cert bored the bollix off me ...except for the owlfellas ghost ...
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I agree, give him or her or they or it a chance.
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"The rich autumn leaves no longer crunched underfoot but accumulated in accepting layers like penurious dark soggy pancakes"
Read the book it plagiarized from .THE HOUSE WITH THE GREEN SHUTTERS
BY
GEORGE DOUGLAS
Olly is a talentless waster .Done two creative writing classes then thought he was the new Hemmingway .
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Ah jaysus :'(
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Clearly John and Ollie don't see eyebrow to eyebrow.....probably is Ermy....fightin with himself publicly instead of privately in his own head...in a boxroom....in Clondalkin....probably on the advice of his psychiatrist!!
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Clearly John and Ollie don't see eyebrow to eyebrow.....probably is Ermy....fightin with himself publicly instead of privately in his own head...in a boxroom....in Clondalkin....probably on the advice of his psychiatrist!!
I'll give the blind guy one thing, he can punctuate. There must be a Braille Grammarly.
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As long as he doesn't start plagiarising the fine work of Dame Sally Markham...that would be utterly disgusting!!
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I agree, give him or her or they or it a chance.
I'm gonna agree with Horse.
But, the amount of adjectives used sometimes outweigh the story to the extent that taking away the adjectives would leave very little of actual story, but we should give the author the freedom to express themselves.
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Would you ever fuck off .My first post on her exposed you as a talentless Fucktard .You lack any literary talent .We are not interested in your drivel Fuck off .
"Every gun makes it's own tune" !
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Would you ever fuck off .My first post on her exposed you as a talentless Fucktard .You lack any literary talent .We are not interested in your drivel Fuck off .
SO OLLIE GOT THE ELBOW?
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Would you ever fuck off .My first post on her exposed you as a talentless Fucktard .You lack any literary talent .We are not interested in your drivel Fuck off .
SO OLLIE GOT THE ELBOW?
Naw ! He's not gone anywhere, just biding his time.
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Would you ever fuck off .My first post on her exposed you as a talentless Fucktard .You lack any literary talent .We are not interested in your drivel Fuck off .
SO OLLIE GOT THE ELBOW?
Naw ! He's not gone anywhere, just biding his time.
Think the Last time he was here he use to go missing at Weekends ?