Woeful shite, but we’ll take it anyway


Still two miles from the pitch, the fields and lawns of Clones were filling up with cars. A large field had been mowed and there were at least 200 cars in it already. A young boy was sitting on a stool outside his bungalow holding a handwritten sign ‘Parking €5’. The cars were squeezed in all over the small front lawn, with no gaps between them.

Hello Joe.” “Hello kiddo. How many cars can you get in?” “One year we got 30.” “You’re joking. I see you’ve left no lanes for people to get out afterwards.” “Not my problem Joe.”

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