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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Travelling on a ferry can be a lovely thing to do, especially when the sea is incredibly choppy and you're the only person not wretching in the toilet or stumbling about looking green. I'm very proud of the fact that I don't get sea sick, to the point of smugness, and I usually pray for some kind of storm to brew up on my way to Dun Laoghaire. I'm off to London town, as mentioned yesterday, to do some stuff for Comedy Lounge and also just to see Susan and walk about and laugh at strangers. But the first thing to tackle is the ferry.

I always forget that traditionally, the ferry port and boat is the place to find young, single Irish Mums who have nothing better to spend their benefit money on. They drag their children to boats to run around screaming and throwing up in corners. Along with the screetching mass of kids, an entire under-14 football team spent the journey walking laps of the boat, bouncing off the walls and each other. Male bonding is confusing to me.

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