Marmite mag i nit!

Enough of fish and chips, it's time for a proper Irish stew!

So tomorrow we're off to Ireland and our actual destination, so that the goblins there can finally get their portion of dishonorable gaijin and in the future they'll appreciate that this foul-smelling fetid will disappear after a while, just like every sulphurous garlic snot tends to do when a fresh pinch of snuff comes along.

Anyone who is unnecessarily present will soon realise that they are really taken with these cosy, often ancient pubs here.

But what he really won't miss is this terrible, slow traffic here on the coast (hoping that it's better in Ireland), because it's often a terrible slow-moving journey here, so even an 80-year-old grandpa in Austria isn't challenged enough and can polish his balls and gear sticks extensively and with pleasure while he drives, while his grandmother, who is travelling with him, leisurely finishes knitting a fluffy egg cosy.

Furthermore, the strange writer must note that there will soon be more pooping dogs than bleating sheep, because almost everyone here has their panting, drooling street sausage potburie promenade mix on a leash and almost everywhere there is a sign on the entrance door:

Yes, we are dog friendly! No Gaijin!

...and how cute they all are here!

There are so many tattooed "riffraff" here that a certain colleague at work would feel naked and would then run in a panic to the tattoo artist to get a few flowers tattooed on his balls so that he would stand out again, the balls they are made of.

Just one thing:

If there is anyone among my very esteemed, beautiful and clever readers who knows and likes Marmite, I assume that they also eat oysters!

...and what the travelling rascal thinks of these slimy creatures can be read in the old blog...

Have fun with it anyway! 🤮

Why do they eat things like Marmite here?

What did the poor bread do to them to deserve such a harsh punishment?