Cork
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| Motto: | |
| County | Co. Cork |
| Nickname | Down there where they breed national heroes |
| Population | yes |
| Ethnic Groups | Corkonians, Gingers, People with an unusual and unfounded opinion of themselves and where they come from. |
| Anthem | The Boy Racer Song |
This article is subject to alteration by inbreds. Please make a note of it.
- Were you looking for Dublin? If so go fuck yourself.
- Were you looking for this The People's Republic of Cork?
“Cork.. An absolute waste of space and perfectly fine rocks. Similar to Dublin.”
“Cork.. Like Dublin, but not as good.”
“If we did counties this would probably be a lot better than ”
~ Carlsberg on Cork.
Cork (aka The Peoples Republic of Totally Sweet) was founded in the year of our Lord 1988 by some mog -Cork slang for an ugly girl (Note: All Cork women are ugly)
Many others soon followed his lead once word got around that he was building a free society established in a small but perfectly formed spot called "Sir Henry's" in which it was legal (read obligitory) to marry farmyard animals and fuck your sisters. He was joined by many other like minded loonies and soon the town began to thrive and prosper in love and the spirit that is dancing for no money.
The love died in 1904 but was brought back to life again two years later by his Keano, king of the world. It went on to live for ten more glorious minutes before it finally snuffed it again. It is buried under a pile of rags at the bottom of the garden. Strangely enough, the Gardaí (Irish for People-posing-as-the-Police) still got several hundred calls from people that claimed to have seen it crawl around on a stage in Dublin in December 2005.
Contents |
[edit] Present
Today Cork, the capital of Cork County, of People's Republic of Free Bicycles For The Over 60s, of United Kingdom of Cork and Sheep, and of United States of Cork and Mayo (disputed since Mayo broke away in the 243.6th century to form the Catholic Republic of Mayo) is populated with a strange, quirky and arrogant werewolf type people who mostly wear red and finish each sentence with the word 'boy'. An example being : 'Here, boy'? Dat sunshine is feckin blindin boy'. Or 'What langer wrote this shite, boy?'. Sun has since been banned in all parts of Cork due to an outbreak of smacked arse syndrome. Corkonians (Wankers for short), especially North-siders, have a fierce distrust of everyone and everything around them. Especially people with an education. They are easily spotted as all (including women) have taken to growing handlebar moustaches and drinking cans of Dutch Gold (recently corkonians have discovered a wold of alcohol outside of dutch mould and expanded their range into drinks such as druids cider and royal dutch, however when in a public house (in Ireland) corkonians are usually spotted drinking Murphy's stout simply because it all started in cork biy!. When in a pub outside of Ireland they can be seen asking the question WHAT no murphy's?, ah ill hafta settle for guinness so i suppose) . But beware they are extermly dangorous and travel in packs. 'We is de proper capital of dis here Ireland, boy', they shout when passing through Dublin on their way home, usually with some kind of all-ireland cup under-arm (wether they actually won it or not).
[edit] Cork vs.Dublin---Soulmates
Although Cork and Dublins relations have been frosty for decades since the "Clondalkin Massacre" where a miss-guided Stag party from Cork attempted to sing "Boys of fairhill" and "Luchenbach,Texas" by Waylon Jennings in a local Clondalkin pub only hours after Cork's demolition of Dublin in Croke Park.Needless to say the publicans reaction wasn't welcoming and their remains have yet to have been found.Despite these differences Corkonians and Dubs have much in common.
*They both hate each other
*They both consider everybody else as "culchies"
*People from the south of the City hate people from the north
*People from the north of the city hate people from the south
*Both have incomprehendable accents to outsiders,it is thought
they can understand each other
*Even when their sports team is below average,they still expect
nothing less than a victory.
*They are the only two counties with major socio-economic troubles.
Therefore basketball is a popular sport in both counties.
It is also worth noting that dubliners are also known in cork by the popular term jackeens....as heard in the song you are a jackeen, a scummy jackeen, you're only happy on dole day, your mams been stealing, your dads drug dealing, so please dont take my hubcaps away -sung to the tune of u are my sunshine.
This song is best when heard live at any Cork City Vs (insert dublin team here) match. A recommended activity when in the cork city region.
[edit] Nightlife
What people don't know is when you go out in cork you can get langers and still pull the best looking norrie and going back to her gaff in hollyhill or the glen to bang her,this is common tradition among young cork folk from the northside of town. This practise must be undertaken with serious caution however as you could end up in the wrong old doll and get yourself a serious batin for your troubles off her fella, who is usually sporting a cap angled at 90 degrees from his head, a coal-quay brand fred perry top and ofcourse a knacker-tash, which is a patially grown moustache that just looks like the wearer forgot to shave for a couple of days, he may also have a pair of nike air max runners which may too have been purchased in the coal quay. Something to look out for on a trip to cork is a local type of group called "Da Boys".They usually travel in pairs once they a tannked up on a few pints and shots.They wear blue jeans,white t-shirt,glasses and have names such as freddy big balls.Once drunk they are to be avoided at all cost to your health.
[edit] Eating Out (also known as getting a munch)
Cork also prides on its vast range of fine restaurants and tradition of good food. Although where you eat sometimes defines what part of the city you are from. Many from the southside may bring their families to Dougls restaurant KCs, famous for its fine selection of thin potatoes this proves a popular choice with many MORONS. While those on the north side shall often spend their family occasions queing to get an order in to the world franchise Murphy's chipper.
The long-running battle for supreme dominance of Cork's post-drinking 'it's 3am and if I don't get a burger I'm gonna die' market has been fought between Chillie's Tandoori and Hillbillie's. This war is often referred to as 'Chillie's Vs. 'Billie's'. Commentators have often praised Hillbillie's for its central location, solid chicken burgers (known locally as a breast in a bun) and its strange propensity to be one's last chance to score, fight or both. On the other hand Chillie's boasts splendidly soggy chips and deliciously filthy deep fried burgers. Chillie's Tandoori also has the trump card of being run by the Admiral of the Pakistani Navy, as confirmed by his hat. Of late the Instanbul burger & kebab emporium has also emerged as a heavyweight contender for the title of dirty take away king of Cork. The Istanbul's 1/4 pounders can be upgraded to a half pounder for a mere 30c extra and they taste extra good when dropped on the floor and still served to you because you're a drunk piece of crap that the staff hate and wish a merry Christmas as they kick your sorry ass out their brightly painted door. Go piss out those rotten pints you got in the bróg in an alleyway you lousy bum.
[edit] Drunks
Cork City in and of itself contains a crack squad of the finest street drunkards known to all humanity. Basing themselves around Patrick's Hill, and claiming residence in that area's retail outlets, this team of professional wasters roams the town challenging little children to fights and casting all non-Irish Catholics to hell. Such is their power that upon issuing said threat to said non-patriotic, non-God-fearing, non-IRA-supportive heathens, that the ground cracks open and hell itself extends a fiery arm to bring them down. All of the team members are allied in an important goal: to fucking irritate everyone in their path. Another commonality in the team is their alleged relation to Michael Collins. This has yet to be proven, but a common DNA pattern would explain their state. Cork's street drinking team cannot be fucked with, despite several attempts by police, army and King Diamond, who finally combusted after a long screaming match with Mary took its toll on his wearying frame.
[edit] Mikey and Mary
Current Cork City tag team champions of drinkage. Known to arse around near Crowley's. The female of the species is certifiably Bat Fuck Insane, thinking nothing of urinating in public in the afternoon. Relationship with male of species varies from day-to-day, from family (cousins) to lovers. The male of the species also shows primitive musicality, randomly banging spoons with the accompaniment of a 20-euro boombox. Further study is needed to determine as to any correllation between his spoons and the radio, but it's largely imagined that there is none.
[edit] Areas of note
Cork City center and it's surrounding area is a limitless, fun filled crusade of culture, high end fashion, and concequence free glue sniffing. Here are some areas of interest that may appeal...
[edit] Farranree
Farranree is the best part of Cork. This is common knowledge to everyone except people who are not from Farranree. It is not uncommon to take a stroll around Farranree on a brisk Sunday morning and see devout churchgoers from Farranrees pension addled, upper class terraces mingle with the youth underbelly returning home from a busy Saturday night of fights, gracious sex and obscene DJ Tiesto fetishism. Farranree is the type of community where having hair longer than .4 inches is having long hair. Thus making you a goth. Thus meaning WE BATE YOUR FUCKIN HEAD IN BAI NOW YA EMO FUCKIN WANKER.
Once again, Farranree is the best part of Cork.
[edit] Knocknaheeney
Knocknaheeney is essentialy a little Farranree. A veritable warehouse full of chemical wonders to be shipped to the afformentioned youth underbelly of Farranree. It is common knowledge to everybody except those not living in Farranree that Farranree is better than Knocknaheeney. The two border each other somewhere by that park with all the shit about your old lade written on it. You know the one.
[edit] Churchfield
Near the above two romanticised villiages of excellence, Churchfield is a bit like an dormant STD. It just sort of sits their between everything else and ... yeah. It's Churchfield, like. Not hard enough to be from Farranree, not desperate enough to flee into the surrounding KNocknaheeney, Churchfield is like a piggie in the middle. A fat, annonymous one.
In a word, fuck you and fuck your fucking Churchfield. This is common knowledge to everyone but those not living in Farranree & Knocknaheeney.
[edit] Glanmire
Glanmire is a bit soft but Glanmire does not want to admit it. Like the daft feller who drives to the gym and smokes a menthol cigarette when they are done. It is not uncommon to see some citizens of the much maligned and misunderstood Glanmire hiding their briefcases in Lidl bags to fit in amoungst the youth underbelly of just about everywhere else in Cork. This is common knowledge to everyone including the people of Glammire themselves. They are just soft. Like a big, soft penis. Your big, but you cant get up. And thats what matters.
And you know it.
[edit] Blackpool
Blackpool is an overflowing metropolis of black and caucasians who had your old lade. The shopping center it plays host to is the hive of most teen girls from the surrounding area, who are attracted by the various glamour shops and the smell of cakes from the adjacent bakery. The shopping complex and it's locale also house the cinema, some generic silver office blocks which are ideal for tagging, and some fine, fine gatting fields.
The commerce area then leads to long, winding, dust covered roads full of houses where your old lade was had by the same guy you buy your hash off. You know it. Then their is the church. Blackpool church. Much like Willie Wonka's chocolate factory nobody ever goes in, and nobody ever goes out. Instead they stay outside and drink.
Praise the lordah!
[edit] 'Town'
Despite Cork, in the grand scale of things, being nothing more than a town - as a whole - [except Farranree], 'Town' is generally reffered to as the area between Patrick's bridge and Christy Ring bridge. The body of 'Town' is of course St. Patricks street which plays host to the Savoy, where all the sham bais hang out, Paul Street, where all the faux alternative folk hang out, and the peace park, where the actual real alternative folk hang out. I say real because they care not for your petty shelters and personal hygiene conventions! Random? Scene? My Chemical Romance? Near Vana? With that feen who shot himself? They are all RUBBISH!
This is common knowledge just to those who sit in the peace park and smoke hash bought from the guy who banged your old lade. Allllll day.
[edit] Gattin & Foggin
Not to be confused with the comedy crime duo of the same name, Gattin & Foggin are the two national pastimes of the youth branch of the Peoples Republic Of Cork, as opposed to Hurling and GAA football. GAA football is a common, dirty, manky sport anyway, you fucking bogger.
[edit] Gattin
The typical anatomy of a 'gattin' [notice you never add the final 'G' because it stands for GAAAAAAY] session, or basically a gigantic fucking six hour shove-it-under-your-top-find-a-bush-and-empty-all-down-yer-neck-before-your-old-lade-phones-the-shades drinking session is as follows.
- Da Bais finish they'r wanks at 3PM, leaving them bored.
- Texts are sent, and Da Bais meet up outside a store where alcohol may be purchased at 6PM.
- Da Bais pick Da Bai with the correct look about him, and he gets 'blown out' for not being of age to purchase alcohol.
- Da Bais instead place a phonecall to someone who has an ID sufficient to purcahse the alcohol at 6:30PM.
- Da Older Bai arrives at approximately 9:27PM in a banged up Opel Corsa and purchases Da Bais their fine quality beverages.
- Armed with eight crates of Dutch Gold, Cork's premier cheap lager, mini bottles of cheap, shitty Huzzar Vodka and a terrible choice for mixer [usually Powerade] Da Bais seek a soft bed of grass on which to gat on.
- Da Bais then typicaly get chased out of this lovely patch of land and down all their alcohol en route to plan B.
- Da Bais arrive at Plan B at 12:48AM. Plan B is a wet bus shelter. The night has finnaly begun.
- Fifteen minuets later, the girl most intolerant to alcohol will wank someone off and later throw up.
[edit] Foggin
Foggin refers to the act of smoking some of Cork's fine glass sprayed weed or camel shit covered hashish. I can get ya proper sticky black stuff tho. Give us a ring their bai. Anyway.
- Da Bais get they're fifty bag of weed at 3PM. Fifty euros for three grams or so of the world's worst smoke.
- Da Bais start they're smoking.
- Much food is consumed, somebody tries to convince the bais that the shades are outside, and the night closes out to someones Bob Marley copied CD.
[edit] See also
- Baile Átha Cliath
- Redheads
- Corcaigh language, a dialect of Mandarin
- Waterford, a former colony of United Kingdom of Cork and Northern Brittany
- Sheep
- Cows
- Jehusephat Merryweather's Guide To Low-Cost Bestiality And It's Hotspots
- Galway
[edit] External links
Addendom: Corkesians say the word 'Boy' as previously mentioned, but they also use the word 'Like'. Should be mentioned that Red is their favourite colour, not pink, unless talking about tracksuits or Dubliners.
we also say sham, feen, beor, old doll, old man, old lade, happenin??, gaff, gat, gattin, pavey, pikey, langer, lang-ball, and the south side is the D4 of cork city. North Side all d way sham!!! I'll Eat Your Face
Another Cork word that you might come across is CommaT which is a group of people elected to sit on hairy chairs and never make a decision. CommaT's often result in riots outside the Parochial Hall, especially after caterpillar racing (the insect larva, not the JCB) outside the Mon. Beware of CommaT's at all costs.
Also, many Dublin tourists who "may or may not have" come to Cork have yet to be found. It is said by officials that, "They got lost, found themselves in Belfast, and got slaughtered by Ian Paisley." When a reporter questioned the fact that they were heading south, the same official said, "...".
