After a hectic summer of early morning kitchen japes and outsmarting festival security, the session pixies are back with a plethora of zany lifestyle advice…
Dear Session Pixies,
I moved to the arsehole of nowhere last year for work. The country living has been great but I do get bored outta my skull, so I occasionally get one a mate in Holland to post over some yokes, stick on jilted generation and some glow in the dark wellies, and run around the fields bollock naked, apologising to cows for the gentrification of the area.
Only problem is, half the time they rarely make it to my country manor, which could mean one of two things: that my mate’s a thieving prick, or some sky-boy postman from the sticks is getting his sticky fingers on me jiggers.
Can yis help a fella out?
You mad bastard. Never mind them cows bud. Sure aren’t they responsible for 18% of greenhouse gas emissions worldwide the fuckers.
Anyway, for reasons best known to them, Customs Officers decide to start monitoring the post for drugs last year and found loads yokes. Their haul went from 3,390e in 2010 to a jaw-breaking 41,000 yips in 2011. So yours are probably in that pile somewhere.
Luckily for them, they only find the best yokes going, valued at around 15e a pop. Sources close to Revenue Commissioners have said they’re ‘fuckin mental boys’.
And let that be a lesson to you – always shop local
Dear Session Pixies,
I hit 30 and decided to get my act together. I scored a job reeking of responsibility that’s shunted me well up the career ladder. Yet my life has fallen into a shambles. Gone are the relaxed mornings reading and doing house work. My dolie days were poor, but there was an inner peace. Now I barely have time to change underwear never mind masturbate into a sock. My dog hasn’t been walked in a month, and between fucking around online and complaining – there’s no time to pick up his favourite food – in fact its cheaper and less time consuming to feed him euro value meals from the McDonalds than trek to Lidil. How is this growing up? I miss my unemployed zen. What to do?
Randy, Babylon Falls, Wexford.
Welcome back to society. Ah yes, the stress of the work-a-day 9-5 slave. Have no fear though. It’s all about balance – you are stressed with the adjustment. There are cognitive behaviors you need to change. Have you tried talking to someone? Preferably a stranger. When Friday comes, try skulling 40 pints before vomiting your heart out to some manky fool you met in one of the bars out of Love/Hate. Then lob the gob. In the morning you’ll feel much worse then you did at 4:45pm Friday and the rest of the week can only be an improvement.