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|population||17 and a half|
|ethnic groups||Irish, Culchies, tasty Polish shop girls apart from the big one on the bike|
Mohill was founded in 1974 by a burly hill walker who got lost whilst looking for coal. He constructed a tin shack in an area now knowen as Cappa and was befriended by several young women of the area. His off-spring can be seen around the Cappa region to this day and occupy the welfare office each Friday along with the local Knackers. Thin straggley like beings, half starved and gormless they portary a sorry sight.
The real Mohill sunk into Lough Rynn, just outside the town in 1964. You can still see some floating debris and shit on the surface today. The burly hill walker set up the present shanty towm in aid of shelterfor his off-spring and this was then built upon by local builders who have all went bust. They hang around M&Ms each morning with faded flourescent jackets looking confused and seaching for money.
The name Mohill is derived soley from "dung-hill" or rather 'a place were shit is piled high'
The town itself is littered with decrepit, condemned and collapsing buildings (Tranmore) were even the dogs howl. Mohill is perennially submerged in semi-darkness and mist.Haunting to visitors, it has a charm of it's own.. (a wind charm over the graveyard). The main town is bordered by several smaller "shanty towns" which the locals refer to as Knocklongford, Cappagh and Hyde Terrace. These slums consist of masses of tiny hovels built from materials scavenged from the local dumping facility
There are four main gathering places within the town itself - Hill Street Club, "The Bench", and Paul's Shop and vault 69.
Most of the people who consider themselves from Mohill live in hovels around it whilst the town itself is roamed by knackers, yobs,chavs, wild dogs and chickens.
The town has forever been plagued by bad tempered scolding middled aged woman, O'carolan the famous blind Irish harpist got turned to stone by such a woman and has been stuck to the same spot at the bottom of the town ever since. They drive cars through the town with white knuckles and press their gritted teeth on the windscreens.
Beware of them !
The main sport in Mohill is incestious sex. Once again the result of this is seen in the upper regions of Cappa. They also play banjo's and look at each other in a funny way.
Mohill is the place where turf comes from. Turf was invented in mohill. The burly hill walker was digging his back garden one day (Cappa) and one of his many children (from four wives) approached. "Daddy..Daddy" he shouted "Da spuds are dyin wit da famine"... "phuck off" he shouted back "Zam Zams is in town now !" as he shouted he lifted a sod from the ground and aimed it at the young lads face, ducking it hit the fire and then ..."jaysus do ya smell dat"....the rest is history. Mohill is one of the best exporters of people..they all phuck off... even the dogs. cats, mice, priests etc... they all phuck off. (Rumour suggests though, someone in cappa is eating the cats..so that might count them out)...We also export hash, dickheads, fools, half wits, child molesters and much more.
To avoid the horrors of the Famine, in 1846 a small community in Mohill built Vault 66. The incestious ones later renamed this as Vault 69 .The Vault was dug into the hillsides and out of sight and makes a good meeting place for those of unusal sexual preferences. British Troops found the Vault in 1871 and shut it down causing a sudden drop in birth rate in the local region. The Vault was recently discovered by a pig farmer named, Patrick "Over The Edge" O'Seamuson.
On a dark creepy windswept night ( most nights around mohill).. you can still here the clatter of bones, screams and evil lafter in the town. On the approach from Carrick locals say the ghost of the burly hill walker can be seen dressed in a long black coat with a look of horror on his face swinging an old lamp in a clowd of mist warning people to stay out.