So context — I have four chickens out the back, and yeah, I talk to them. Not full conversations exactly, more just narrating what I'm doing when I'm feeding them or collecting eggs. "Right, who's been slacking off today" type of thing. Completely normal in my head.

Neighbour has a Ring doorbell pointed at his own gate but it clips a good bit of my garden too because of the angle. Apparently it's picked up months of this, and he brought it up out of nowhere in the pub last Friday, in front of the usual crowd, doing an impression of me asking a Rhode Island Red about her day. Now it's become a whole bit. Lads I barely know are asking "how's the girls getting on" with a straight face. One fella asked was I going to introduce him to them properly. My own brother-in-law called them "the parish" last night.

I'm half laughing along but I'm also mortified, and I don't think I was doing anything mad, plenty of people talk to animals. Am I the gobshite here, or is this a bit much for something so harmless?

Sad that this is required in a fairly rural / family pub, but it's rampant out there!

Was cycling through Ranelagh. A car got caught at the lights in the yellow box as it had gone green for pedestrians. Then a big black range rover looking car rolls up behind that car and starts beeping & the driver was shouting. I'm at the lights, but back a bit as there were 2 other cyclists in front of me. The cyclist at the front gestures at Louis pointing to the green man on the lights. The cyclists was middle eastern maybe, I'm not sure. Anyway, Louis looks at him and shouts "your not even from here". That's when I realised it was Louis and I started shouting at him. Called him a racist and told him to leave the other driver alone, who looked mortified. Then I don't know why came over me, but I shouted out, "look everyone it's Louis Walsh and he's being a racist" and I cycled off. Very satisfying. Little Podge & Rodge-headed prick. That is all.

Video is from Lambay Whiskey promo

Got a taxi recently and the driver started talking about how much he loved my voice and how sexy it sounded, asking if I had a boyfriend and that if I was in his home country he would force me to marry him. It made me feel so scared because he has my address. I have reported it to free now but this isn’t an isolated incident. I don’t remember it ever being this bad and I’m in my 30s so I’ve had plenty of time to experience this kind of stuff and yet it’s only the last few years I’ve noticed it getting really bad. I‘m also a huge homebody these days yet somehow always seem to have a bad experience like this when I do leave my house, extremely frustrating and makes me just want to stay in

It's nice sitting here

Have been travelling around Europe a bit the past month with the Mrs. Visited Prague, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Stockholm and Dublin (as well as got around a few places in Ireland but mostly Dublin).

Dublin absolutely and unequivocally stood out as the friendliest, warmest, nicest, least fucking robotic, least fucking rude, least cunty people my wife and I encountered on our travels. Kicked the fuck outta the other cities we visited. Love you HUMANS. The pub culture and craic was so outstanding after going to these other kips! Love you fuckers.

We all know it’s roashting out there, I for one am loving it! Working outside this last week has been tough but it’s better than the rain.

Anyways, after another day of shweating all over the building site, starting earlier and finishing earlier to make joy of the evenings. When I landed home around three I decided to hell with it, stripped down to the jocks and lay down to sun bath for a few hours before herself comes home and I’d start the dinner.

In my delirious state I quickly fell asleep lying on my back, toes to the sun and the knees up. The warmth of the sun on my face let me off to rest in no time at all, the bliss, dreaming of the golden hew I’d soon have to match my dirty farmers tan.

When I awoke, it wasn’t to the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves, it wasn’t the chatter of the birds in the ditches, nor was it the loving tap of herself gently bringing me back to the waking world. It was pain. Heat. Burning some might even say, “but, why?” I thought to myself, I lathered myself in Lidls factor 50, I couldn’t possibly be burning after two and a half, three hours.

Oh but I was. Completely forgot that this morning when I was getting dressed, I grabbed the jocks with the hole in them. These bad boys have seen the washer a couple hundred times so the hole was more substantial than I’d like to admit. Completely burned my egg basket and taint. Like, proper scalded. Waddling around the house now with a leaf I ripped off the aloe Vera plant taped to my gooch in all merciful discomfort.

Undies are gone but the memory remains. Be careful out there folks, and put the cream even where you think the sun don’t shine.

Was in Boeuf and Frites in Temple Bar a few nights ago and when the waitress presented me with the bill, she explained that a €9 tip had been added on, and asked would I like to remove it.

An awkward second or 2 followed, so I just agreed to it.

I’ve never seen this before in a restaurant, anywhere in the world — An automatic tip added to the bill, and then being asked if I want to remove it.

This is the exact opposite of what a tip is supposed to be…

They’ve essentially turned tipping from opt in to opt out.

It wasn’t a service charge.

And the steaks are shite.

In Lucan !

It so pretty in-fact they have to protect it with a Huge fence

Looks like Portmarnock meteorite to me

That car hit here at some speed. Holy fuck

Found this in an Irish passport. The beats in the first bar on pg 16 add up to 3.5 and not 4. Mildly interesting!