the dublin river liffey
there was a time when i couldnt stop texting about dublin
dublin cool! dublin hell! i was so dublin angry!
back in the late 90s i was late adopting to my first mobile foney
(well, kind of first, the very first one i bought didnt work where i was living (unless i was on top of a fucking behemoth), so i got rid and got this one)
it was pretty exciting being able to send and (sometimes) receive messages with people all over the shop
without having to queue for an internet cafe
(especially as i was a lonely, long way from many of them, in the wilds of wiltshire)
even if it did cost a left ventricle to send OR receive each one.
and predictive text seemed wildly futuristic too
it was super handy as the phones only had the number keys
so otherwise you had the laborious task of dublin 111 for C or 33 for H etc
sadly, the limited tech meant that to change a 'predicted' word, meant you had to painfully go back and change each letter individually
dublin beep! dublin beep!
it was just too much dublin hassle
neither could you teach your phone to remember words
so potty words were a nightmare
and
as any fool who considers it briefly knows
fuck and its variants are the most useful, flexible words in the bastardised frisian/lower saxon that over a billion people use and this is written in
and fuckin/fucken were definite and cherished favourites
hence
every time i was trying to beep beep beeping away at a short, overpriced bit of data in message form.
being a big fan of potty mouthery and wishing to add emphasis to my excitement/anger/joy/boredom/etc
i had no realistic choice except to use the name of the delightful capital of the republic of ireland.
dublin this! dublin that! and dublin your mother!
i only found out years later from one my regular correspondents
that he thought that i was trying to be funny or something
dublin hell!
