Friday, February 20, 2009


Having just devoured a large slice of chocolate cake topped with a goodly portion of butter icing my thoughts have inevitably turned to the Protestant Reformation. As I see it the problem with being Proddie these days is that there isn't much protesting going on. Back in the 'good old days' a bit of Catholic burning would have passed the time, but these days even Catholic baiting is frowned upon so that particular diversion is not an option.

These days the schism in Western Christendom is really only a question of the acceptability of contraception, or more particularly the use of latex prophylactics. Even this issue is a bit of a limp member as I don't think that many Priests are haranguing their parishioners about rubber Johnnies at Mass.

Had one enquired of a heavily tattooed Loyalist in a Shankill Road drinking den during the 1970's what his difficulty was with the Irish Catholic Church a lengthy monologue on Black Mambos, French ticklers, and strawberry flavoured condoms would have ensued. These a days a shrug would be the more likely response.

Secularism has killed off this important debate, and I for one think it's about time it was revived.


EmmaK said...

The way I see it, the end of the war in Northern Ireland essentially ended the sexiness that had always been associated with bombing and kneecapping. Basically the glamor went out of the business. But if you're looking for conflict maybe we could get a catfight going between Fatsos and Anorexics - maybe a bun fight in the street or pay per view?

Jimmy Bastard said...

Merciful heaven. Do I have to remind you of the very worst attrocity to come out of the troubles?

Bono.. and that awfy fecking strangled cat version of Sunday Bloody Sunday

See you Saturday as usual, down at the battlements in Coatbridge. Bring a big stick.

MJ said...

I’d like to see you in a Burberry condom.

Madame DeFarge said...

The great cake and religion debate never ceases. I think the main difference is that papes prefer empire biscuits and proddies tend to go for french fancies. It's the bakers in Baillieston I feel sorry for.

Tim Footman said...

I went to school in Petersfield, which boasts an equine statue of the mighty King Billy in the market square. Every July, slightly grumpy men in bowler hats would turn up to put a wreath there. It was an honourable tradition to point and laugh.

garfer said...


A fatso anorexic face off would beat even the 'rumble in the jungle' as a must see event.


The stumpy legged Bono is an offence against Oirishness


Burberry is not permitted on any part of my anatomy, least of all that one.

Madame DeFarge

The true Proddie disdains Garibaldi biscuits because they are named after an Italian Papist. They also aren't over keen on Bourbon biscuits because of their connection with that Continental Catholic dynasty.


Scoffing at the acolytes of the hunch backed homosexual King William of the House of Orange is inadvisable.

The Proddie boys will come after you.

KAZ said...

This takes me back.
In my village we were 'Proddy Dogs' and they were 'Cat Lickers'.
I'd forgotten all that 'til I read your post.

Arabella said...

Is there a Best Opening Sentence of the Week award?