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Two days after getting home, I decided to bike into Hakana Bay.

I disregarded the fact that I had done no exercise for the previous month, apart from climbing into bed. It’s a 10km round-trip to Hakana Bay with 800ft straight up or straight down, depending on whether you’re pedalling furiously or frantically braking respectively; I also considered this largely irrelevant.

Apart from a brutal uphill sprint at the start, the rest of the leg to Hakana Bay is more a trade-off between setting your brake pads on fire, or doing a starfish off the top of a cliff. Despite these tense negotiations, arriving at Hakana Bay I felt PUMPED.

Shame I couldn’t say the same about the back tyre.

After a brief stop to inflate and let Jed roll around in mud, we struck out for home. About 200ft up the road, I thought my lungs were going to explode. 400ft on, I understood what dying must feel like.

I dismounted the bike, pumped up the back tyre again, and started pushing. I was averaging a rate of about 2km per day when, at the hairpin bend overlooking the valley, we came across three loggers.

I stopped whimpering and paused for a chat because, you know, I’m friendly. Also because I wasn’t sure whether walking another step was biologically feasible. Also the back tyre was flat again.

Jed tried to intimidate the loggers by barking; the strategy had limited success because they thought he was a giant poodle. He should stick to farting. In a bid to win him over, one of the loggers threw Jed a biscuit.

Watching my dog pounce on the biscuit, I realized I was starving. Ravenous enough to claw that biscuit out of my dog’s jaws and wolf it down myself, except that Jed swallowed too fast.

“Can I have one too?” I asked with barely contained drool.

The Irish amongst you will appreciate how hungry I must have been. In Ireland, asking for a biscuit is a cultural taboo on the same level as pointing at strangers, or necrophilia.

Obviously taken aback, the logger said, “Aw yeh.” He proffered the pack. “Take a handful.”

I momentarily considered snatching the entire packet and making a run for it except that I could barely walk, never mind RUN. Also, there were three of them, and just me and a giant poodle.

In the end, I thought taking any more than two would be rude.


Comments on: "Pathetic" (4)

  1. Cian said:

    I know that you have been out of the motherland for a while, but nowadays necrophilia is more socially acceptable than asking for a biscuit. Given the recent success of the celtic tiger and the proliferation of internet porn, asking for a biscuit has dropped even lower.

    Would it have been cruel to put the harness on Jed to pull you along uphill?

  2. deadlyjelly said:

    REALLY? That’s good to know, thanks for the update. From what you say, it sounds as if it’s almost rude if you DON’T ask for a biscuit; that good manners and impeccable breeding dictate that immediately after the standard greeting, one should say, “May I have a biscuit, please?” – while always remembering not to point.

    Please confirm; I wouldn’t want to be giving the Irish a bad name. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to getting out there and making the moves on corpses.

    It has occurred to me on many an occasion – but usually while Jed is charging ahead after a nippy air molecule – to put the lead on and have him tow me. If only I hadn’t spent all those months training him to heel. I suppose I could use a new command: JED, PULL. I just don’t know what I would be unleashing – or for that matter leashing – on an unsuspecting world.


  3. solartap said:

    I really do not understand what people have against internet porn – ultra safe sex !

    Yes, i know “I’m Joey. I’m disgusting.” 😀

    I guess you must have had a slow puncture in your tire. I generally take a spare inner tube if i am going far and that has saved me on a number of occasions.

  4. Cian said:

    You just try asking for a biscuit next time your back here. When you are offered a Rich Tea, just ask for something a bit more luxurious, like with chocolate. The answer I expect you’ll get is something along the lines “Ger out of ‘ere now you hussy. Next you’ll be asking to get it on with my Husband who is not 6 months laid (no pun intended) to rest. Ger out I tell ya”

    Oh I have nothing against internet porn, although I prefer when people sitting opposite me on trains etc. aren’t playing with themselves during their ocular fest. And as for in the workplace!

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