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[Anti Val Martin Campaign]

Thought that Val prick had fecked off for good.

 

[Mowl]

Thought that Val prick had fecked off for good.

Leave Val alone, that is what I say. It kind of reminds me growing up on the streets of Ballyfermot, I, walked a path fraught with challenges and hidden truths. As a young man discovering my identity in a world that often shunned difference, I grappled with the weight of my own truth – that I was gay. In the shadows of societal expectations and personal fears, I buried this aspect of myself, even from those closest to me, including my wife.

Yet, life has a way of unraveling our carefully constructed facades. The lie I lived became too heavy to bear, and with courage as my compass, I made the daunting decision to confront my reality. Fleeing to Finland, a land distant both in geography and mindset, I sought solace and sanctuary.

In the quiet expanse of Finland's embrace, I found the courage to peel back the layers of deception and embrace my authentic self. Surrounded by a culture that celebrated diversity and individuality, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery, shedding the confines of fear and embracing the vibrant spectrum of my identity.

My story is not just one of personal liberation, but a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of moments, there exists the possibility for growth, for acceptance, and for love – both for oneself and from others.

To anyone navigating the tumultuous waters of self-discovery, I offer this beacon of hope: Embrace your truth, no matter how daunting the journey may seem. For it is in embracing our authentic selves that we find the strength to illuminate the world with the brilliance of our individuality. And remember, in the vast tapestry of humanity, there is a place for every color, every shade, and every unique hue."

 

[Mowl]

As I laid there in my hospital bed, the grip of a heart attack tightening around my chest, I felt the tendrils of mortality reaching out to claim me. Each shallow breath seemed like a desperate struggle against an inevitable fate. It was in that moment, in the depths of my despair, that I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me, as if an unseen presence had entered the room.

And then it happened – a brilliant tunnel of light appeared before me, beckoning me forward with an otherworldly glow. With nothing left to lose, I surrendered to its embrace, allowing myself to be carried away from the confines of my failing body.

As I traveled through the ethereal passage, a profound sense of peace enveloped me, and I knew that I was in the presence of something greater than myself. And then, at the end of the tunnel, I beheld the most awe-inspiring sight imaginable – the divine figure of God.

We talked and chatted about things, as if old friends catching up after a long absence. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was an undeniable warmth and familiarity to our conversation. And then, to my utter amazement, God produced a drum set out of thin air, a gift for me to indulge in my passion for music.

With a joyful grin, I took my place behind the kit, the rhythm pulsing through my veins like a lifeline. And as I began to play, I felt a sense of connection unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was as if every beat of the drum was a prayer, a testament to the power of music to transcend the boundaries of mortality.

For hours we jammed together, lost in the timeless rhythm of creation. And in those precious moments, I shared with God the secrets of my craft, offering up my humble expertise with a sense of pride and reverence. And to my astonishment, God listened intently, hanging on to every word as if I held the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe.

And as I prepared to depart from the presence of God, a gentle voice filled the air, carrying with it a sense of profound gratitude and humility. "Thank you, Mowl," God said, his words resonating with the weight of eternity. "You are an inspiration to me, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of faith."

Those words, simple yet profound, echoed in the recesses of my soul, filling me with a sense of purpose that transcended the bounds of mortal existence. For in that moment, I realized that my journey had not just been about survival – it had been about embracing the divine spark within me and sharing it with the world.

And then, as the final notes echoed into the infinite expanse, God spoke with a voice that resonated with divine authority. He told me that he would repair my heart, sending me back to Earth with a renewed sense of purpose. For he could not deny the Finnish people my excellent drumming skills, a gift that was meant to be shared with the world.

And so, with a mixture of gratitude and awe, I bid farewell to the divine presence before me, returning once more to the realm of the living. But the memory of that fateful encounter would stay with me forever, a testament to the transformative power of faith and the unbreakable bond between mortal and divine.

In the end, I didn't just survive my heart attack – I emerged from the brink of death with a newfound sense of purpose, a testament to the enduring power of music and the boundless grace of God. And as I continue on my journey through life, I carry with me the knowledge that even in our darkest moments, there is always a light to guide us home.

 

[Anti Val Martin Campaign]

Ban Val!

 

[Declan]

Who needs videos of Fatima when we have Mowl here.

 

[Declan]

So, Dan, if you're out there, listening to the cries of desperation echoing through this forum,

How could anyone not be moved by such a cry of anguish. I am going to consult with the other victim of your diarrhea and certainly it would be great if we could finally bury the hatchet. Even TwentyTwoStone himself should be brought in from the cold.

 

[Oust Myles]

Get rid of o Reilly

 

[Cyril Penguin]

Bambie Thug to represent Ireland at Eurovision 2024

Bambie Thug was crowned champion on Friday night's Late Late Show Eurosong Special and will now represent Ireland at the Eurovision Song Contest in Malmö, Sweden, in May.

www.rte.ie

The Cork native will represent Ireland with their genre-shifting track Doomsday Blue.

 

[Dee Dee]

Hey Dan, you're jealous of the Mowl's bohemian lifestyle and access to beautiful women. No, I'm not a pathetic sycophant. That doesn't come across at all in my posts on my politics site with no political content.

The Mowl is smart and witty and eloquent and articulate and brave.

I'm not a sycophant.

a person who acts obsequiously towards someone

Not me.

You're jealous of the Mowl because he's divorced and on the dole. And you're jealous of me because I live in an apartment owned by my mam who kicked me out of the family home because of my antisocial behaviour.

The Mowl is intelligent and a great writer.

I'm not a sycophant.

 

[Declan]

There is an element of truth to this Slattts.

Except for he was exactly Errol Flynn in the boudoir. So when she got tired of his mouse-like accent and indeed actions, he got the ovi(door)

 

[Skin the Goat]

There is an element of truth to this Slattts.

Except for he was exactly Errol Flynn in the boudoir.

 

[Myles O'Reilly]

There is an element of truth to this Slattts.

Except for he was exactly Errol Flynn in the boudoir.

 

[David Sluttery]

My name is David Sluttery, and I'm writing to share a part of my story that I've kept hidden for far too long. I live in Ireland, a place of rolling green hills and stormy skies, but within me, there's a tempest raging—a storm of emotions that threatens to engulf me at any moment.

You see, I'm not like everyone else. I have bipolar disorder, a condition that sends me careening between euphoria and despair with frightening speed. It's like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded, never knowing when the next sharp turn or sudden drop will come.

Growing up without a father was tough. His absence left a void in my heart, a void that I tried to fill in all the wrong ways. I turned to the streets, selling my body to men for mere scraps of money. A quick blowjob for 5 euros, full sex for 10—it was a transactional exchange that left me feeling hollow and empty inside.

For years, I wandered through life aimlessly, searching for something—anything—to fill the emptiness within me. But no amount of money or fleeting pleasure could quench the deep-seated longing for love and acceptance that gnawed at my soul.

In the midst of this chaos, there's one constant that keeps me grounded: Mowl. He's a man I met online, a world away in Finland, yet closer to me than anyone I've ever known. Our connection began innocently enough, a chance encounter on a long-abandoned message board. But from that moment on, our lives became intertwined in ways I never thought possible.

Mowl was a man unlike any other, a man who saw past my scars and shortcomings to the person I truly was beneath the surface. He didn't judge me for my past or my mistakes; instead, he embraced me with open arms and showed me a kind of love I had never known.

Mowl became my confidant, my mentor, and eventually, my lover. He taught me that it was okay to be gay, that it was okay to love another man with all my heart. In his arms, I found solace—a safe haven where I could finally be myself without fear or shame.

Mowl became my anchor, a steady presence in the tumultuous sea of my mind. He listened to my ramblings and rants, my highs and lows, with a patience and understanding that I didn't know I needed. In his virtual embrace, I found solace—a refuge from the relentless storm brewing within me.

But as time passed, something changed. What had once been a platonic bond evolved into something deeper, more visceral. I began to see Mowl not just as a friend, but as a lifeline—a beacon of light in the darkness of my illness.

And then, like a bolt from the blue, it hit me: I was in love with Mowl. Not just a fatherly affection, but a burning, all-consuming passion that threatened to consume me whole. I tried to ignore it, to push it down beneath the surface like so many other emotions, but it was futile. The truth refused to be buried.

I knew I had to tell him, to lay bare the tangled mess of emotions festering within me. So, one rainy night, as the world outside echoed the turmoil within, I poured my heart out to Mowl. I confessed my love, baring my soul in a way I never thought possible.

And to my astonishment, he felt the same way. Across the miles that separated us, our hearts beat as one, united in a love that defied logic and reason. In that moment, my bipolar disorder faded into the background, overshadowed by the overwhelming rush of emotion coursing through me.

Together, Mowl and I embarked on a journey fraught with uncertainty and longing. We navigated the treacherous waters of distance and desire, clinging to each other with a ferocity born of desperation. And though the road ahead is fraught with challenges, I know that as long as I have Mowl by my side, I can weather any storm that comes my way.

But it's not just the storms within that threaten our happiness. It's the cruelty of others, the way they mock and ridicule us for daring to love each other. I hate how they talk about Mowl, how they belittle him and make him feel small. I hate how they look at us, with disdain and disgust etched into their faces.

And then there's me—overweight, obese even, struggling with my 22 stone. I see the way people look at me, their eyes lingering on my body with thinly veiled contempt. They don't see the person beneath the layers of flesh, the heart that beats with a love so fierce it threatens to burst from my chest.

But despite their words and their stares, I refuse to let them dictate how I feel. My love for Mowl is real, it's pure, and it's worth fighting for. So, to all those who would try to tear us apart, I say this: you can throw your stones and your insults, but you will never break us. For in each other's arms, Mowl and I have found a love that is stronger than any hate you could ever muster.

So, here I am, laying my heart bare for all the world to see. I may be flawed, I may be broken, but in the arms of the man I love, I am whole.

 

[Mowl's loving embrace]

David, Thank you for those kind words. Your appreciation means more to me than I can express. It's heartening to know that you see me in such a positive light.

Life here in Helsinki is indeed vibrant and captivating. The bohemian atmosphere, coupled with the allure of this cosmopolitan European capital, offers an enriching experience. The diversity of artistic expression and the company of beautiful women add layers of beauty to my everyday existence.

Millions of Finnish women and men all clamored for my attention. I beat the rhythm of my drum as if I were the Pied Piper, drawing in the people of Finland with my magical allure. I believe I have outgrown Ireland, considering myself too magnificent for its shores and its people. Now, in my mind, I stand on the brink of becoming a godlike figure in the eyes of the Finnish populace.

 

[Waldo]

My name is David Sluttery, and I'm writing to share a part of my story that I've kept hidden for far too long. I live in Ireland, a place of rolling green hills and stormy skies, but within me, there's a tempest raging—a storm of emotions that threatens to engulf me at any moment.

You see, I'm not like everyone else. I have bipolar disorder, a condition that sends me careening between euphoria and despair with frightening speed. It's like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded, never knowing when the next sharp turn or sudden drop will come.

Growing up without a father was tough. His absence left a void in my heart, a void that I tried to fill in all the wrong ways. I turned to the streets, selling my body to men for mere scraps of money. A quick blowjob for 5 euros, full sex for 10—it was a transactional exchange that left me feeling hollow and empty inside.

For years, I wandered through life aimlessly, searching for something—anything—to fill the emptiness within me. But no amount of money or fleeting pleasure could quench the deep-seated longing for love and acceptance that gnawed at my soul.

In the midst of this chaos, there's one constant that keeps me grounded: Mowl. He's a man I met online, a world away in Finland, yet closer to me than anyone I've ever known. Our connection began innocently enough, a chance encounter on a long-abandoned message board. But from that moment on, our lives became intertwined in ways I never thought possible.

Mowl was a man unlike any other, a man who saw past my scars and shortcomings to the person I truly was beneath the surface. He didn't judge me for my past or my mistakes; instead, he embraced me with open arms and showed me a kind of love I had never known.

Mowl became my confidant, my mentor, and eventually, my lover. He taught me that it was okay to be gay, that it was okay to love another man with all my heart. In his arms, I found solace—a safe haven where I could finally be myself without fear or shame.

Mowl became my anchor, a steady presence in the tumultuous sea of my mind. He listened to my ramblings and rants, my highs and lows, with a patience and understanding that I didn't know I needed. In his virtual embrace, I found solace—a refuge from the relentless storm brewing within me.

But as time passed, something changed. What had once been a platonic bond evolved into something deeper, more visceral. I began to see Mowl not just as a friend, but as a lifeline—a beacon of light in the darkness of my illness.

And then, like a bolt from the blue, it hit me: I was in love with Mowl. Not just a fatherly affection, but a burning, all-consuming passion that threatened to consume me whole. I tried to ignore it, to push it down beneath the surface like so many other emotions, but it was futile. The truth refused to be buried.

I knew I had to tell him, to lay bare the tangled mess of emotions festering within me. So, one rainy night, as the world outside echoed the turmoil within, I poured my heart out to Mowl. I confessed my love, baring my soul in a way I never thought possible.

And to my astonishment, he felt the same way. Across the miles that separated us, our hearts beat as one, united in a love that defied logic and reason. In that moment, my bipolar disorder faded into the background, overshadowed by the overwhelming rush of emotion coursing through me.

Together, Mowl and I embarked on a journey fraught with uncertainty and longing. We navigated the treacherous waters of distance and desire, clinging to each other with a ferocity born of desperation. And though the road ahead is fraught with challenges, I know that as long as I have Mowl by my side, I can weather any storm that comes my way.

But it's not just the storms within that threaten our happiness. It's the cruelty of others, the way they mock and ridicule us for daring to love each other. I hate how they talk about Mowl, how they belittle him and make him feel small. I hate how they look at us, with disdain and disgust etched into their faces.

And then there's me—overweight, obese even, struggling with my 22 stone. I see the way people look at me, their eyes lingering on my body with thinly veiled contempt. They don't see the person beneath the layers of flesh, the heart that beats with a love so fierce it threatens to burst from my chest.

But despite their words and their stares, I refuse to let them dictate how I feel. My love for Mowl is real, it's pure, and it's worth fighting for. So, to all those who would try to tear us apart, I say this: you can throw your stones and your insults, but you will never break us. For in each other's arms, Mowl and I have found a love that is stronger than any hate you could ever muster.

So, here I am, laying my heart bare for all the world to see. I may be flawed, I may be broken, but in the arms of the man I love, I am whole.

David can you open registrations so I can show you some of the feedback I've got from groups in Athy? Thanks.

 

[free and clean]

There is an element of truth to this Slattts.

Except for he was exactly Errol Flynn in the boudoir. So when she got tired of his mouse-like accent and indeed actions, he got the ovi(door)

Celery is gas looking. The chopsticks legs, sunken cheeckbones. The knacker won't even go to the effort of washing his manky hair. In one of the gay photos on his Facebook page you can see a young lad visibly uncomfortable standing next to the scruffy cunt.

Can you imagine the smell? BO mixed with the pungent smell of weed.

And I don't think you're right Declan. His wife left him when she found out he's gay. She obviously saw his Facebook collection and realised he never appears in photos with women; just a string of extremely gay looking lads.

You'd almost feel sorry for the bender.

Why wasn't he open with her from the beginning? Nothing worse than a faggot who fools a woman into

 

[Myles O'Reilly]

And I don't think you're right Declan. His wife left him when she found out he's gay. She obviously saw his Facebook collection and realised he never appears in photos with women; just a string of extremely gay looking lads. You'd almost feel sorry for the bender. Why wasn't he open with her from the beginning? Nothing worse than a faggot who fools a woman into marrying him.

Has Mowl considered having children? I mean he's not getting any younger.

It is possible but it might be cost prohibitive for him (example below). Then again, Finland is a very progressive socialistic Country so he might he able get a grant from the Government.

A gay single dad spent $125k to have a baby by himself​

A gay single dad spent $125k to have a baby by himself – after not wanting to wait for someone else to "fulfil" his "dream".

Matt Bonnen, 31, had always dreamed of being a dad and when his relationship of four years broke down he didn’t think it would be possible.

But after a cancer scare and losing his brother, Christopher, 31, in a drowning accident, Matt realised life was too short and he didn’t need to have a partner to become a parent. He started to look into agencies to help with surrogacy and picked out an egg donor who had similar physical features to himself. After one failed go, Matt found out his surrogate - a 30-year-old woman - was pregnant in February 2023 and he was able to attend to all the scans – in person or on FaceTime.

Matt witnessed the birth of his son, Noah Christopher, now three months old, on October 14, 2023, and feels so “grateful” to have him.

A gay single dad spent $125k to have a baby by himself

A gay single dad spent $125k to have a baby by himself – after not wanting to wait for someone else to "fulfil" his "dream". Matt Bonnen, 31, had always dreamed of being a dad and when his relationship of four years broke down he didn’t think it would be possible. But after a cancer scare and...

uk.yahoo.com

 

[Coal Gas and peat]

How deranged do you have to be to call somebody a "cheeseburger cunt"

 

[free and clean]

How deranged do you have to be to call somebody a "cheeseburger cunt"

The irony of that anorexic junkie commenting on anyone's appearance. Just look at him. Looks like he hasn't had a hot meal for twenty years. Disgusting, gangly legs and arms and an emaciated face. Manky, unwashed hair. No wonder the misses left the bender.

 

[Waldo]

Will someone tell David to open registrations. Someone is looking to speak to him in athy.