Kieran's Standup - Politicians.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly bring to you my debut standup performance, mostly improvised on the spot, on stage.

Here are some of the rave reviews I have received:
"The right side of edgy" - The Glaswegian ♥♥♥♥♡
"The best of an amateur lot" - The Paisley Daily Express ♥♥♥♥♡
"Who?"    The Guardian ♡♡♡♡♡
"Please do not call this office again" - The Scottish Sun ♡♡♡♡♡
"We are not concerned with this Colin McNeill person"- Glenrothes Gazette ♡♡♡♡♡
"It was great, the drinks were really cheap in there" - John Ross Mason ♥♥♥♥♥
"I brought him up better than that" - Keiran O'Neill's Mother ♥♡♡♡♡
"What the fuck was I wearing?" - Kieran O'Neill ♥♡♡♡♡

Enjoy. Kieran x

The Week that Wasn't - UK Edition 16.3.2013

Pope Francis' First Official Photograph.

The Right Hand of God.
The Universe now has a pope once again! As people congregated in St Peter's Square, all eyes were on a little chimney on a roof. All of a sudden white smoke rose from it, indicating that we had ourselves a white pope. There were cheers and singing and jubilation, and the Pope's own groupie nuns grew evermore moist in areas which have been arid since they went into the Convent. I've always thought that if deodorant and antiperspirant companies want a truly winning product capable of astonishingly long lasting dryness, no matter what the circumstances, then they should concentrate their reseach in the area of nuns' vaginas.

So it's Pope Francis then. Stupidly (though not unexpectedly) the conclave of cardinals ignored my previous recommendation of Chuck Norris, and went with yet another traditionally conservative old fart for a Pontiff. All may not be lost though. Rumour has it that the Pope is 'soft' on condoms which defeats the purpose of condoms in the first place really. It is whispered that the new Holy boy thinks that the use of condoms is permissible solely for the prevention of sexually transmitted diseases spreading. So a big hurray for Papa Frankie then. But not so fast, because Frankie-boy is violently anti-gay. So in summation, it's OK to fuck a hooker with a condom so you won't get AIDS, but if you dare kiss that handsome lad you really like, then it doesn't really matter what you wear, on your cock or otherwise, because you're going to Hell anyway. Ok cheers for the clarification on that Frankie.

Francis Enjoys the View of his Groupies.

The Pope may only be a few days into his new role, and he probably hasn't even finished unpacking all the crockery, but already politicians are trying to use him for political points scoring. It won't be a colossal shock to discover that our own Prime Minister Emperor Cameron was one of them. Being native Argentinian, Francis was once quoted as saying that the Falklands were 'Argentinian soil usurped by the British'. Having the spiritual leader of 1.2 billion people saying that your country is a bunch of thieving cunts is unacceptable for any leader, so it's no surprise that Cameron came out and in the nicest, politest way possible, told God's representative on Earth to fuck right off. Not surprisingly, the Argentinian President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner has been gleefully piling on the pressure to such an extent that President probably cums when hearing the name 'Pope Francis'. Meanwhile, the people of the Falklands (having recently voted with a majority of 99.8% to stay with Britian) go to school, wash their cars, travel to and from work, have dinner and wishes everyone else would just fuck off and leave them to live their lives.

'You Look More Like Your Dad Every Day'.

All the King's Horses and All the King's Trustafarians.
The Daily Mail lives up to it's usual exemplary standards of journalism by making a major song and dance about a picture of some posh fellow pinching the ear of the future King as he watches a horse race. Said future King's wife chuckles heartily at the high jinx displayed by said posh fellow. The last time the future king and his posh fellow friend had their ears so seductively fondled they were at Eton. Prince William and his recently inseminated animated clothes horse of a spouse were pictured at the Cheltenham Festival of racing. They decided to put bets on which of the horses would be the bestest, and which horses would be shot and turned into someone's lasagne later that day. The young royals had a simply wonderful day of betting with their trustafarian chums. Bravo! Good going Daily Mail! Bringing us all the latest crucial news on the lifestyles of the other half that we can neither aspire to be, or emulate. Meanwhile, the 6yr old daughter of a single parent who works as hard as she can because her benefits were drastically reduced, merrily tucks into a microwave lasagne made from the remains of one of the future king's horses, whilst drawing a crayon picture of a pretty horsey to proudly display on the fridge. And so the world turns....

'Unexpected Item in Stomach Area'.

Expertly Hidden.

A husband got the shock of his wife's life recently when his wife discovered a 4" serrated knive sticking out of Morrison's bakery loaf of bread. The wife apparently spotted it straight away and removed it before any harm was done. I'm absolutely certain that the husband was greatly relieved that his wife wasn't hurt in the incident, and that he in no way secretly inserted the blade on the way home...... Not only does it reflect poorly on Morrison's bakers, but it doesn't show much faith in their self service checkouts. The machine is so sensitive that it can detect 1 stray empty shopping bag on the scale, but it completely misses the 'unexpected item' in the bread. Lesson for the day? Be grateful that some of your purchases only contain horsemeat, because if you're not careful, one day you might find a razor blade in your waffles, a chainsaw in your sponge cake and 100% beef in your lasagne.

Hamza Poses for the Paparazzi.

The World's Shittest Bond Villian.
Radical comedy cleric and potential Bond Villian Abu Hamza has been moaning about getting replacement prosthetic whilst in prison. Islam's worst self-appointed spokesman since Osama bin Laden has been whining about how he has not been allowed his famous hook, and instead has been given, hilariously, a spork. Muslim shitbag Hamza's lawyer has been on record stating that the sporks were "not accomplishing what he needs accomplished". I can only presume that he has 2 accomplishments: 1. Without his scary hook he will seriously have trouble misrepresenting Islam. Perhaps without his silly Bond villian image people will the Papealise that Islam is a noble and peace-loving religion who's teachings have been twisted, abused and bastardised by Abu and his fuckwit pals. 2. He can't properly scratch his arse anymore. Hamza should be pleased though, because at least masturbation will be a less nerve shredding experience. Using sporks will cut down on washing up, and he'll be able to toss a mean salad.

Would the Real Pope Please Stand Up.

The Pope is dead (Metaphorically speaking) long live the next one! Although considering that the Vatican Conclave seem to vote for popes on the basis of which candidates' birth certificate is the most fragile, that's unlikely to happen. Yes, the Catholic World is waiting on tenterhooks to find out who their next Papa will be. It's like the elimination rounds of some shitty talent show called "The Pope Factor", without having had the enjoyment of watching a number of cardinals making complete tits of themselves in the audition stage, singing Whitney Houston's 'It's Not Right, but It's OK'. Quite an appropriate song choice for the clergy these days.

'I Don't Initiate Violence, I Retaliate'

A number of bookies' favourites have been touted, but other than the fact that some of them happen to be black, they all seem unremarkable. You know your church needs a proper kick up the arse in terms of modern pro-active publicity when possibly the most remarkable thing about your new leader is how active his melanocytes are. The Catholic Church therefore needs a new kind of pope. Someone who will sort shit out, introduce coolness to the religion, make it relevant in the 21st century, and also sort out world peace once and for all. In short, we need Chuck Norris. But as Chuck will no doubt be working on his hectic career of not doing much anymore, we will need to look further afield.



That's why I've taken it upon myself to compile a shortlist of alternative candidates for the position of Pope.


Frankie Boyle.

Frankie Excited by the Idea of Having a Home.

The expletive-ridden, controversy-fondling Beardy-Weirdy comedian hasn't been looking his best Lately. Having a beard you could hide a freshly crucified Jewish Messiah in, and having worn the same suit for the last 5yrs, one could be forgiven for thinking that Frankie is actually homeless. At least he'd have somewhere nice to lay his lice-ridden head at night. Thanks to him being booed off stage during BBC's Comic Relief set, he will be used to the same level of unpopularity most Pontiffs endure. Plus it would be worth making him Pope just to hear his Easter message in front of a packed St Peter's Square.


Justin Bieber.

Justin Models a New Line of Papal Underwear.

What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in hair styling products. Yes, super-swagged pop Ken doll Justin Bieber would be the ideal poster boy for the Catholic Church. Having over 35 million Twitter users who hang on his every word and cling to his every developing pubic hair, he's certainly used to unquestioning adoration. The Vatican is desperately trying to fend off the public image that the Catholic church is just a gentlemen's club full of Jimmy Saviles in dresses. So to have a teen running the place would certainly send out positive, albeit initially mixed, signals. Justin would still need to treble his security whilst in the Vatican, you know, just in case. At least there would then be "one less lonely Catholic" in the world.


Apple.

PeeWee Tests the New iPope Beta Version

Rumours on the internet are that technology giant Apple are about to throw their hat onto the Papal ring with their new product - The iPope. Details being leaked onto the web are that it will be fully compatible with all main Christianity formats, it can be recharged using the cigarette lighter in the Popemobile, it can say Mass in HD with a catalogue of catholicisms' most famous masses available to download from iTunes, and Siri will be voiced by Steve Jobs direct from the afterlife. It will have a 4G connection with Heaven and an app delivering the very latest notifications from God herself. They might even get that fucking autocorrect thing right. Rumours breaking last night are that Apple already have the iPope 2 in development.


Queen Elizabeth II.

'Screw You Guys, I'm Going Rome.'

Pastel-clad royal battle axe QE2 has enjoyed a lifetime of adoration, so it's only natural that in her final pampered years she is adored by over 1.2 billion people. She will soon be a great grandmother and will leave behind a fully functional family, with 1 prematurely bald grandson, 1 ginger half grandson, a closet gay son, an FA cup-faced widower son, a horse for a daughter-in-law, a grand daughter-in-law and her sister, both of whom are more admired for their outfits and arses than anything they actually say. It's nice to know that the UK's media has it's priorities right when they are more interested in what's in their skirts than what's in their heads. So now that her family are all growed up, she can change a life of sightseeing and shaking hands with a life of sightseeing and having her ring kissed. Her Papal ring that is. And her arse too. In that way she would be perfect, because in the grand scheme of things and in terms of making an impact on the working of the world, she's been as much use as a fucking chocolate teapot. Just like the last Pontiff.


The Reverend Ian Paisley.

'Me? Pope? Nooooo!'

If you fancy an outside bet, then crusty octogenarian and perennial big mouthed rabid sectarianite the Reverend Ian Paisley is theoretically perfect for the role, being a pre-made 'holy' man and an old bastard to boot. The only tiny little thing which might put an unholy spanner in the holy works is his overt protestantism. Perhaps living in that big fancy house in sun-kissed Rome, and having a selection of pimp-tastic hats might be enough of an incentive for him to convert to Catholicism. It may seem a little far-fetched, but remember, the last pope was once a Nazi.



So there you have it - my shortlist for Papal candidates who in their own way would be weirdly suitable for the job. And let's face it, they couldn't fuck the church up more than it already is. So onwards and upwards into the 18th century the Vatican must go, and a drastic change in candidate selection might just be the colossal kick in the balls it needs. And if any of these creatures become our next Papa, then you know I called it right, and we'll all go for beers to celebrate.

The Week that Wasn't -UK Edition. 6th March 2013

One Less Lonely Gamer.

"Seriously?! Another Halo Game?!"

Justin Bieber has been at it again. Apparently he tried his best to be a stroppy little diva before his London O2 Arena gig (For definition of diva, see 'cunt'). Rumour has it he allegedly kept fans waiting for hours whilst he played video games because he couldn't be arsed going on stage for his fans. And why not? I mean those fans only bought him that video game as well as every one luxury he enjoys, so surely they should expect him to get some enjoyment out of it. Rumour has it that nothing gets him more excited than completing another level on Little Big Planet, and Sackboy, who he had dressed as a pimp, was on a huge roll. One lucky fan who won a competition to meet Justin said that she spent just 10 seconds in his presence. Just as well really, or given the hysterical state of some fans, if she had met him for 15 seconds the poor girl's head might have fucking exploded. If this is how Justin acts now, just wait until he starts going through puberty....







Because She's Worth It.

"Can Anyone Smell Something a Bit Funky?"

Speaking of confused girls, a girl recently received a bottle of sperm as a gift, thinking it was moisturiser. Just pause for a moment to let that sink in, pardon the pun. A girl received a bottle of sperm as a gift. Now, either her admirer is attempting to start a new trend on romantic gifts, or he is not an admirer, and is clearly questioning her chastity. Perhaps the loved-up sender (or should that be 'Fucked up sender'?) thought Vincent van Gogh cutting off part of his ear and presenting it as a gift to his lover was passe. "I wanted to give her a part of me, but I can't stand blood or pain. So I wanked into a cup and tied a bow around it". And they say romance is dead. Secondly - Apparently the girl was half way through the bottle before she realised that there was something a bit "iffy" about this gift. How many applications did it need for her to realise that it might not have been approved by the Dermatological Association? Perhaps she thought that Clinique had rolled out a new cum-scented line in beauty products. A facial mousturiser simply called "Facial". An anti-aging skin preparation called "Pearl Necklace", and an overnight product called "Happy Ending". A product line rich in protein, mitochontria, DNA etc. At least it gives men gift options. Gentlemen! Have you forgotten to give your wife an anniversary present? Never fear, just grab her favourite coffee mug and nip into the toilet for 5 minutes.



Bessie's Gone to Iceland.

A Worker in Shock, Having Just Lost His Right Hand

A mum has recently been moaning about how her little girl found a clump of cow hide in her pack of Iceland mince. Perhaps the portion of cowhide belongs to Kerry Katona, afterall it would explain Kerry's recent weight loss. Still, the mum shouldn't be moaning, at least her child is being fed cow for a change. Icelend seem to be fucking up to almost Hugh Grant standards, with the various types of animal in their different products. Now I expect their ice cream to contain kittens and their garlic baguettes to contain 100% poisoned rats. The product I would be most concerned about though is their Pepperoni Pizzas. Who knew horse penis could be so spicy?



Sir Alan, Death and Taxes.

Big Al About to Tear Someone a New Arsehole

The 2010 winner of The Apprentice Stella English has been in court suing former boss, the corporate world's Mr Limbkins, Sir Alan Sugar, for 'Constructive Dismissal'. She is claiming that she was an overpaid, glorified errand girl. This isn't overly shocking, as the idea of Sir Al finding the next Sir Al on a reality show is pretty far-fetched anyway. The Apprentice was on a £100,000 per year wage and did very little of any great degree of importance, so in many respects she could have easily been a cabinet minister for a year. Her sorry tale immediately provokes visions of her dressed as a street waif approaching Big Al's right hand man Nick Holzherr, empty business diary in hand and saying "Please Sir, I want some more". At which point Nick, with astonishment whacks her with a ladle and exclaimes "What!?". I guess Benjamin Franklin was right when he said that "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death, taxes and being fired by Sir Alan Sugar". Or something like that. In any case, her contract wasn't renewed, Sir Al allegedly said "I only do it for the PR and don't give shit" and she was subsequently found surplus to requirements. Sounds just like Manchester City and Robinho........

1 Dildo, 35 Arseholes and a Samurai Sword.

Dante's 7th Circle of Hell.

Every time I go out I notice a significant amount of arseholes. These days there seems to be more and more of them. Perhaps it's due to my slightly sheltered childhood, but I never knew there were so many arseholes out there. I also had no idea that the arsehole-nice person ratio was so high. It seems to me that for every 3 people you meet, one of them will be an arsehole. And a 33.3 arsehole percentage is far too high. There are different categories of arsehole. There are arrogant arseholes, rude arseholes, aggressive arseholes, ignorant arseholes, and generic arseholes. And chances are that you've encountered a few of those categories of arseholes already today.

Pandora's Box.

I realised this when I encountered a middle aged businessman on the train earlier today, who was wearing a very expensive suit, and who could be described as a crossover arrogant/ignorant arsehole. I was about to get off the train when he shoulder barged me into the side of the doors and he got off and briskly went away. Perhaps it was best that he made a swift exit, or he may have found himself on the tracks underneath the train. I didn't need to feel bad though, as the arsehole tried to get through the automatic doors, he bumped into a much bigger, aggressive-type arsehole, who promptly sent him flying, landing on his own arsehole. His briefcase went flying and burst open upon impact with the crowded platform. The wind took most of the arsehole's paperwork and deposited it on the tracks, leaving a half eaten sandwich and (I swear this is true) a red ball gag and pink dildo. See? Sometimes Karma gets up off her lazy arse and gives you a dose. I walked over to the business arsehole, leaned over and said 'Life is a fucking bitch, isn't it?' and stepped over him.


So what causes people to be arseholes, and on occasion, downright cunts? Well, I may have the answer: it's because everyone else is an arsehole. When people are arseholes to you, don't you just feel like being an arsehole back? But the problem is that the offending arsehole has gone, as well as the chance of being an arsehole right back. I call it 'Revenge Arseholery'. If that opportunity has gone, then why not be an arsehole to some other poor fucker? In that way everyone is an arsehole, because everyone else is an arsehole. And so the nevending cycle of arseholery continues. And it's not just public tranport users who are arseholes.

Screw You Too Fuckface!

What about road rage? This country is chalk full of arseholes who seem to think they own the road. I love it when taxi drivers call white van drivers rude, ignorant arseholes. Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle a cunt? Cut someone up in your car if you like, just pray that you don't hit a set of lights immediately after, or that other person might be a bigger arsehole than you are, jump out of their car, and cut YOU up - with the samurai sword they carry in their boot. The media never miss a beat when reporting an incidence of road rage:




"We now go live to the High Court where our reporter Bernard Cribbenshaw has been getting the latest news in the Croydon Killer Car Chase case. Bernard, can you tell us what has been happening in court today?"

I'm Not Getting Paid Enough for This, Jonathan.

"....I can't hear him. I can't hear anyth...Hi Jonathan. Yes, the court has been hearing how after a short altercation whilst driving, the victim Mr James Smith came to a red light when the accused, Mr Frank Bradley, allegedly jumped out of his car and emptied his fully automatic Uzi 9mm into the driver's side of Mr Smith's car. It is alleged that the accused then wiped his bum with the victim's neck tie. Bradley, 41, from Croydon, denies murder, however his defence is willing to plead guilty to him being an arsehole. The case continues tomorrow. Back to you in the studio Jonathan"



So tomorrow, when you are going home during the rush hour, try to be nice to people and not an arsehole, or else next time it might be YOUR dildo rolling around a train platform. And if someone cuts you up whilst driving home, don't get angry. Just hope and pray that the fucker gets his comeuppance, and he might just spend his evening having his corpse cut from the wreckage of his car by firemen.

Kieran x

Your Spleen May be at Risk if You Do Not Keep up Repayments.

At Least Kerry is Getting Paid.

I don't know why people say that there is no money around and that they can't get any. I mean there's tonnes of it around. The TV is swamped with companies saying that you can have a loan. Amongst the most common adverts are pay day loan companies. If you've every been ill, twisted or hung over enough to watch daytime TV for any length of time, you'll notice that every 3rd advert is some company offering next day loans, same day loans, next 10 minutes loans, a week last Friday loans etc. The latest advert I saw was celebrated oxygen thief Kerry Katona saying how you can get a payday loan from Cashlady. What she doesn't tell you is that the interest on a Cashlady loan is 2,670%. "Only 2,670% ??? Well why didn't you say? It's an absolute fucking bargain! I might take out 3 loans with them because it's such value for money, just like I'm sure Kerry does".

Take a Loan & Get a Free Pair of Jordan's Old Implants. 

Clearly Cashlady think that they're onto a winner with one of the elite oxygen thieves in the nation (who himself has been declared bankrupt in the past) to flog their loans, so perhaps z-list 'celeb' endorsements is the way to go. You could get the melted Barbie doll Jordan advertising Wonga.com at an average interest rate of 2,342%, but only if you are not a heifer, in other words anyone bigger than a size 6 can fuck off and die in a gutter. Allegedly. If the company wants to introduce a touch of class before systematically raping your purse, then Payday Express could hire 'Lady' Victoria Hervey to flog some loans at an interest rate of 2,670.8%.


The problem is that these companies are for the most part, not even on the politicians' radars. For example, 23 out of 27 members of the cabinet are millionaires. I doubt Emperor Cameron had to go cap in hand to Wonga.com. Although I would give my left nut to see a reenactment of the famous Oliver scene, where Emperor Cameron, dressed as a street urchin holds out a bowl and says 'Please sir, can I have some more?' and the representative from Wonga yelling 'Whattt????'.

Nick Eases into His New Role in the Coalition.

Perhaps what it will take MP's to properly address this problem is for someone with big brass balls to take out a £1,000,000 loan from Payday Express in Emperor Cameron's name. Good luck paying that bill off fucker. Samantha Cameron is going to have to put on her red light and blow every sailor down the at the docks she can find. Then again rather than that happening, Darth Osborne will just force Nick Clegg at gun point to fuck any guy in on Grindr who has a spare £10 note. Afterall, isn't that what Nick is for in the first place?


So there you have it. The streets ARE paved with gold, only it's YOUR gold and it no longer belongs to you. It belongs to the companies which offer you maximum convenience with no deposit. Just be aware that your first born child and your limbs may be at risk if you do not keep up repayments.

Kieran x