Why I Am So Glad That I Never Shagged Naomi And Why I Want To Live As Long As Peter O'Toole

"My idea of Paradise is walking from one smoke filled room into another smoke-filled room and my only exercise is walking behind the coffins of dead friends who took exercise."
- the great Peter O'Toole who is now pushing the boat towards his eighties and yet is making two movies this year. Long may you reign as a cantankerous old git, Peter

By Charley Brady

Ah sure Gob and begorrah and the blessings of the Little People on ye and isn't it a fine old day we do be having just the same?

There do be this fine old rainbow that I do be seeing where there do be a load of 'ould leprechauns dancing around looking for a pot of gold that doesn't exist and they do be fierce happy, so they do be.

But we'll get back to Callely and the Fianna Fail party in a moment.

To the usual band of nutters that have been emailing in order to tell me that I am the scum of the earth, I hope that the above little image that you clowns believe in makes you happy.

If you wish to live in looloo land -by the way, have any of actually BEEN to Ireland - that's up to you. I am happy out for you but I just have to ask you this again: if you hate me as much as say you do then why do you read me, week in and out.

It is nice that you do and as I always have great respect for the fact that you bunch of eejits take the time to email me. In a weird way, I get a kick out of it.

This is not including the people who I have great regard for and who I do listen to when they prove that I am wrong.

Thanks in particular to Patrick who sent me the movie "The Mist" recently. Awesome, mate just awesome. And that ending!!!

Don't you get it, the rest of you that we will never agree?

Look, I'm probably the guy that is wrong here. Maybe you're the men and women who are right to pull me up on a lot of things. In fact I'm bloody sure of it.

Even though I have an ego as big as my [expletive deleted] I'm willing to admit that I'm sometimes - not often mind you, just sometimes - wrong.

However, before I get onto the latest doings in Darby O'Gill land I just have to get Naomi Campbell of my chest. Metaphorically speaking, I'm glad to say. U2's Adam Clayton must get up every damned morning and say to himself: "I am so lucky. Not only did I get to make a shed load of loot by latching onto a band that is at best indifferent but has inexplicably made a fortune, but also I made the wise move of only getting engaged to the dreaded Naomi. Imagine if I had married her. I would never have slept with both eyes shut again."

Now I'm the first in the world to admit that I like good-looking women and there's no doubt that Naomi is all there in that department, but seriously - what a horrible, full of herself, head firmly up her own ass, creature she really is.

Appearing at a War Crimes trial in The Hague is according to herself an awful "inconvenience" for her. She doesn't see it as a chance to put the boot into Charles Taylor, the dictator who is charged with enormous wrongdoing against the beautiful country of Sierra Leone; who is charged on eleven counts against that benighted country including murder, mutilation, rape, sexual slavery, recruiting child soldiers... no, to the fragrant Naomi it's an inconvenience.

That would be inconvenient in relation to what, exactly? To getting flooded out of it in Pakistan? To having a hand wilfully removed in Leone? To having a mad Muslim bastard slice your nose off because you have dared to ask questions that might upset bloody Allah?

Tell me, you spoiled rotten "supermodel", tell me what you were inconvenienced by.

After all, you have been surrounded by your flunkeys for so long now, who are paid to tell you how great you are, that you probably think that your bowel movements aren't the same as everybody else's. They emerge in little blue ribbons, do they?

Then again, according to you, you never heard of Liberia, never heard of blood diamonds, don't care about conflict diamonds as long as they are given to you in order to make you feel even more important than you already do.

You didn't even know there was a war going on in Sierra Leone until 2002 because it didn't impinge on your perfect little world where a nasty piece of business like yourself can treat your hired help like unwanted rabbit droppings and you can shut your eyes to what is happening outside of your privileged little world

God almighty, woman, you may be nice on the eye but inside you are as ugly as sin. I would die - literally die - rather than work for you.

It doesn't help of course that two of the major players who are in the witness box against you at the moment are your former agent Carole White, who looks as if she is perpetually chewing a wasp that has diarrhea and who you once described as your "surrogate mother" and the other is the Irish passport holder Mia Farrow who seems to think that she is the saviour of Africa and a kind of Mother Teresa (another old fraud) who can do no wrong.

You're some bunch, the lot of you; but it's you, Campbell, that makes me the most sick.

According to your own testimony you were awoken in the early hours of the morning by two men who gave you a gift of what you thought were "dirty looking pebbles".

This all took place in a heavily guarded compound of course and the sheer ludicrousness of the scene defies belief.

Except of course in your rotten world I don't doubt that it happens. In my more black and white world there is a name for women who gleefully tear open the door of their hotel room in the middle of the night in order to receive a "gift" of precious stones from men that they have never laid eyes on before. It also begins with an S but it sure isn't Supermodel.

We've quite a few slappers and sluts ourselves over here in Darby O'Gill land. Bertie Ahern, for example, finally found - probably after taking extensive legal advice, mind you - that his usually non-stop gob was still working after nine days of silence on the little matter of Senator Ivor Callely.

Ivor is the cheap crook who, after expense scandal piled on expense scandal, is seen as such an embarrassment that even Beloved Leader Brian Clown has had to disown him and that must have been an "inconvenience" of Naomi standards. After all, Brian doesn't get back from his holiday until September 29.

Look, boys and girls and those of you who aren't quite sure, the only reason that out politicians are so teed of with you is because you, you miserable little chancer, have through your impropriety of BEING CAUGHT have put the light on every other one of you who is doing the same thing.

I will say to you, Callely, and all of your hypocrites who I wouldn't vote for in a fit, not even if you were pulling my fingernails out one by one that this is my view and not of the paper that I write for.

So here is a challenge for you, Callely: SUE ME PERSONALLY and if I can't back up every single word I have said then I will gladly go to jail.

The same goes for you, Ahern. You're the one that backed him up when the people of this supposedly democratic Ireland booted him out in 2007.

What did you do, you gouger? You made him a Senator!

You are filth, the whole lot of you and no wonder kids don't bother to vote any more. See you, hopefully, next week at the bat cave.

Same bat-time!

Same bat-channel!

You can reach Charley at chasbrady7@eircom.net