Barrys
St. Germain stars Conor O’Mahony and Barry O’Sullivan are to be charged
with gross misconduct after a night of debauchery in Cork city last weekend.
It is understood that Cork Night Leagues are considering a charge of bringing
the game into disrepute, while The board of Barrys St. Germain, the Garda Siochana
and the proprietor of Massive Mamaries Lap Dancing Club are also considering
legal action against the players.
ORGY
O’Mahony and O’Sullivan began their breathtaking binge on Friday afternoon
in a series of seedy bars on the quays. They then worked their way into the
city centre, stopping just long enough to gorge on lethal cocktails along the
way. By time they arrived at The Raven they were accosting strangers in the
street, spouting a loutish litany of foul mouthed drunken gibberish.
YOBS
The gruesome twosome guzzled their way down North Main Street and up the Coal
Quay, stopping periodically to relieve their bloated bladders on lamp posts
and wailing woeful renditions of football anthems as they staggered. At one
stage O’Mahony was seen banging on the door of a private house demanding
food while O’Sullivan was engaged in an amorous embrace with a traffic
light.
ROMP
The diabolic duo then proceeded to Massive Mamaries lap dancing club where they
convinced the bouncers that they were part of a dyslexic paraplegics’ night
out. However their lustful liaisons in the lecherous fleshpot were shortlived.
O’Mahony, having secured the services of a bountiful brasser in a private
room, proceeded to eject a partially digested selection of finely diced vegetables
on her prized assets while O’Sullivan, having spilled a pint on his pants,
had removed them in an effort to recoup his loss by squeezing them over his
gaping gob.
Ejected from the club, the pitiful pair made their way up Barrack Street. O’Mahony,
sporting a bile green t-shirt and O’Sullivan in a leather jacket and y-fronts,
entered a Chinese takeaway and ordered two pints of cider before attempting
to solicit a private dance from a curvy and decidedly masculine customer. Moments
later, finding themselves face-down on the pavement outside, the reclining couplet
exchanged nocturnal niceties and drifted into a deep slumber.
When rudely awoken by the slam of a reinforced door in the local Garda station,
O’Mahony scrambled to his feet and requested of the uniformed law enforcement
officer that he be brought four bags of chips and a carton of curry sauce forthwith.
The alleged ensuing delivery of a fist to the face sent him back to his blissful
nap.
Note: Certain alleged incidents in this report are based on
tenuous evidence from possible eyewitnesses who may or may not be fictitious
in nature. The Flying Column reserves the right to treat these fictions as fact
unless proven otherwise. Terms and conditions apply.
EXPOSED!
BSG STARS
IN DRINK, SEX AND FAST FOOD ORGY
LETS
TALK SHYTE
"I
never make predictions, and I never will"
Paul Gascoigne
"My parents have been there for me, ever since I was about 7"
David Beckham
"More football later, but first let's see the goals from the Scottish
Cup final"
Des Lynam
"I felt a lump in my mouth as the ball went in"
Terry Venables
“It’s a long way from Ballyphehane Park”
Ray Horgan when asked of his opinion on the liklihood of democracy being
established in Iraq
THE FLYING
COLUMN PICTORIAL WEEKLY
Manager
Paul Fenton finally discovers an opposition team that will boost BSG's scoring
chances
Monday's Gameplan
Noel
Hayes' cunning plan to boost moral and match attendances
BSG Fans
Memorium
Card
SONGS
OF PRAISE
Chants from the terraces . . .
(To
the tune of Nick Knack Paddy Whack)
This old man, he told me,
Noelie Hayes can score with his knee,
With a quick flick, he’s a knack
Of slotting in a goal,
That’s why they call him ‘Own Goal Noel”.
(To the tune of Keano)
Ryano. . .
There’s only one Ryano
They call him Paul Ryano
He’s like a big Rhino
(repeat... at your pearl)
(”With a packet of sweets and a cheeky wee smile”)
There’s only one Conor Mahony,
There’s only one Conor Mahony,
With a belly full of beer
and a t-shirt full of bile,
Walking in a Mahony
slumberland.
(To the tune of Seasons in the Sun)
Oh what joy, oh what fun
To watch Stevie make a run
But the fun doesn’t last
Cause old Stevie’s not that fast
(Fields
of Athenry)
Lo lie the arms of Brennie Boy
Where once they caught high balls from the sky
When Hoggie was on the wing
He had dreams and songs to sing
Now it’s lonely without the screams of Hoggie Boy
(Nick
knack paddy whack)
This old man, he told me
We’re gonna thrash the AIB
With a nick knack paddy whack
Give us all a loan
We lost 3 nil and fucked off home
