You've read what she said now here is what she really means: (Free translation service provided by All_you_need_is_love)
It’s government artist day so I went to the pub. That is how worried I am about campaigning for terrorists to be locked up; I decided to get locked out (of ma teeeny wee miiiid)
Do you like my Irish accent? I‘ve decided to allow the Irish to adopt me now. Perhaps as people with a reputation for liking a drop of the stuff, they will stay too drunk to notice I am a harasser (convicted and upheld) a stalker, a liar, a maligner of innocent people, a slanderer, an intimidator and an email and phone pest.
The Dubliners in the pub were complaining because I would not stop singing. Finally they got me to shut up by offering to share some secret history of the Motherland with me. It is called seafóid Na hEireann and they only share it with very special people. Like little old modest me.
One red faced gent proceeded to tell me the following research that is so top secret that you can find no reference to it in books (or on the Internet) It is so secret that it will come as complete news to everyone in Ireland to hear it. The women who were with this man reacted very badly to his talking to a beauty like me. I am afraid my fabulous looks and the fact this man was sharing this TOP SECRET information affected them very badly indeed. One buried her head in her hands and issued strange coughing and groaning sounds while the other turned her back to us and appeared to shake and cry. To anyone else it might have looked like they were having hysterics laughing but I knew they were in the depths of despair.
I knew this because I entered Psychiatry with a degree in Clinical Psychology from a Polytecnic (sp)
Did you know the Irish name 'Molly' was a substitute for Mary, the latter being too English? No you didn't. Well, I bet that is because you were under the mistaken assumption that Mary is a Latin name. But now, I, thanks to my new contacts in the Irush secret service know different.
I am abandoning my friends in the English secret service because they have made friends with the Wicket Witch of the North and tell her their secrets. I have new friends in the seafóid Na hEireann now. (Note to self: Must research what that means)
Based on the revelations made by the ISS, I am now able to reveal that the song "Molly Malone" is really about Kitty Kelly. You might have just thought this ditty was just a drinking song telling the tale of a sweet Dublin lass selling cockles and mussels brought into Dublin bay by the Fishermen. You might have thought she did this job to feed her family (highly likely and typical of the times) HOWEVER. YOU. ARE. WRONG. Molly Malone was really the illegitimate daughter of a high-born nobleman. (His Mother gave birth on Mount Everest) Baby Molly was the result of a dalliance between this man and a woman of easy virtue. She grew up and sold her own body. Eventually she moved to England hoping that one day her life would be uncovered by a reseeeeercher (qualified) who would verify her existance and immortalise her in her research forever (modest smile) It is my deeply researched theory (unsubstainable by actual evidence) that perhaps one of her * Fishermen * friends(wink wink) brought her there. I refer you to the startling coincidence that the sweets of the same name were invented in 1865. Once in London, 'Molly' turned tricks in the East end, became the lover of the King of England and bore his illegitimate son.
Based on a conversation in a pub with the Irish Secret Service (Intelligence Wing)and a few sketches on faded bits of paper, I can reveal this to you lucky people. Expect the full story to be published in full to universal acclaim by the end of the year. (I am just not going to say which year)
Speaking of Dublin, it is a bay you know. It was once an Island just like Guantanamo but there was a desert storm which re-attached it to the mainland. That was what happened. I have spoken; let that be the definitive word on the matter. End of.
I am going to announce one of my usrtallasdcdf ....errr..... usuaalllllllll ...um .....userall... erm... frequent breaks from blogging. So about the same time tomorrow then?
Remember, all you need is love!
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Norma Jean
1 year ago
