Session Pixies: Holistic Lifestyle Column from #rabble8

In #rabble8, Blog, The Session Pixies by rabble0 Comments

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The Session Pixies are on their hols in Wesht Mayo, tucking into a stash of 30 grand’s worth of Jameson they found but they’ve taken the time out from donkey-walloping, pipe-burstin’ and cop-baitin’ to offer some life hacks to you poor misfortunates.

 

 

Dear Session Pixies,

Does anyone ever actually write in to you? Yours,

Eoin Do they fuck, we are now accepting our competitors letters, first up Ireland’s Own…

 


Dear Session Pixies,

I tore the arse out of it last weekend but was in bits monday morning. Decided to pull a sicky so called my boss and gave the classic back pain excuse, told him I overdid it in my bikram yoga class on friday. Was playin a stormer on the phone but not a word back from the boss.

Then he says to me “Al, I can see you at your desk, what are you on about?” Sure enough, there I was in work with my boss gazing over the partition at me. It’s three days later and he’s still looking at me, I’m frozen at my desk and neither of us have hung up… How can I slip out of this pickle? It’s definitely moved into a damage control scenario. Should I offer him a cheeky half?

Regards, etc.

Al Batross There’s a courier on the way with a dozen purple mongos. Triple dropping should reduce the tension for both of yis. Sure it’s nearly the weekend again eh?

 


 

Dear Session Pixies,

I’ve just started working on one of those new fangled unpaid jobs after being off sick for a while. Even though I’ve years of experience working in offices my new boss has me making the coffee while he gave the other work placement guy all the responsibilities because he has a degree in geology. Now, the other guy is a decent chat but he doesn’t know one end of an Excel sheet from another. I’m feeling pretty undervalued and my confidence is taking a battering. What should I do?

Yours ‘gis us a job,

Jamie A.

Jamie, your boss is an arsehole and a snob. While ya could say it’s his loss if he doesn’t realise your potential, you’re the poor bastard who has to go in each day and watch some other muppet get the breaks you deserve.

Fuck, it’s bad enough working for your dole but it’s worse when you’re being pissed all over. In a fairer world he’d get pulled up for it but we live in Ireland so you’ll have to take things into your own hands. So, a week before your meant to leave get a kilo of prawns in the plastic boxes and cut slits in the tops. When the coast is clear go into the toilets pop up the false ceiling and secret said trays. In a few weeks, with the seasonal increase in temperature, no degree in geology will get rid of that whiff.


 

 

How-a-yiz lads,

I was on this monster sesh down the bog with some of the girls from college. We taxi’d back out to holiday chalets we were staying in, all of a sudden didn’t one of the lassies pull out a few bags of mephedrone she’d found hidden in the back of a suitcase she had at Bloc 2010. To say we made Henry The Hoover look like a fucking auld one with nasal congestion puts it lightly.

We’d enough tobacco to get us through the night, but the auld one that in the local shop was some class of pro-life Catholic mullah and didn’t open on Sundays – so we’d no way of spliffing up to get through the come down. We burst open the hoover bag and started rolling up random bits of fluff and dust with ganja. Thing is, I’ve just realised isn’t some of that shite dead human skin cells? Does that make me some Charles Manson bone smoking cannibal freak? Haven’t felt right since and me housemates look like they’d make a good snack box.

Licking me lips.

Shelly.

Here Shelly, will ya go to bed ta fuck. You’re freaking the fuck outta the pair of us with these weird notes you keep leaving stuck on the fridge.

 


 

 

Dear Session Pixies, Where can I get an arse burning stir-fry at 4am?

Gaspers, Joe

Well Joe, you must have confused us with the Szechuan Pixies, you’ll find them on Airtel page 710.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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