A wild cow defecates in the waters of the fledgling Liffey,
as it eeks oozes and seeps from the sheep **** of a Wicklow Vale,
running to the loo through the coronation plantation.

The descendant of the brown bull of Cuailnge moves on to the next waterway of Ireland.  What fun.

I want to go home.  
You are home.  
I am not, this is *****.  
Go home then.  
I can't, I'm already there.
Case and point.
Lock, stock and barrel.
That's right.

That the amount of no right turn signs in Dublin's inner city is criminal.

Not you - your parents.  
Ah yes.  In my new society, procreation will be illegal.  The earth will fall dormant.
Be nice.

That's not an allegory, it's ****** annoying.

I tried to get somewhere today.  
I got lost, ended up on Dolphin Road, went home.  
That felt bad.  The noise in my ears, the pressure in my head and an itch on my skin felt worse.
I am punished for the promiscuity of my ancestors.  
I could beat the dust into the other dust and role around there for a while.  
Might make me feel better.
Probably wouldn't.

or otherwise.