THEY’VE been flying the English flag in the streets and shops and pubs of West Belfast since Euro 2012 began two weeks ago. Not on its own, of course, but with the other 15 flags of the competing nations. In the East of the city, clearly they aren’t quite as relaxed about ‘foreign flegs’ – even wee tiny ones. These (right) are the windows of McLean’s bookmakers on the Woodstock Road,
Tag Archives: Squinter
Arise, Sir Squinter. Now sit down again
AS the great and the good of Our Wee Pravince beam for the cameras after being included on this year’s Queen’s Corgi’s Birthday Honours List – or Spot the Catholic, as it’s known in West Belfast – Squinter wonders how he can elbow his way into this exalted company.
It’s wall gone wrong
SQUINTER’S slow progress through Newtownards on Saturday afternoon is soon explained as he draws nearer the town square and the hysterical thud of scores of bass drums grows ever louder. Another weekend, another band day.Rather than sit in heavy traffic for an hour, Squinter parks up and goes for a stroll, which is how he came to meet this fella you see in the picture here.
A real glass act
THE Roddy’s isn’t great for mobile phone reception. Or perhaps Squinter should rephrase that and say the Roddy’s isn’t great for iPhone coverage, because a bog standard Nokia with the same service provider works perfectly while the iPhone slips into ‘No Service’ mode the second Squinter takes it out of his pocket. The details of the essential uselessness of the iPhone is a story for another day, so let’s concern ourselves here with the incident at hand.
In pole position
SQUINTER was in Moneymore with the big guy to attend Saturday’s vintage car rally at the National Trust’s Springhill House. A good day was had by all, but as usual at such events the catering was not what you’d call epicurean. And with all that fresh air and bejasus accents putting an edge the appetite, we decided we’d eat in Magherafelt on the way home.
Waxing not so lyrical
When Squinter read that there’s a play starting at the Lyric soon called Molly Wobbly’s Tit Factory, at first he thought it was a homage to bare-bellied taxi drivers (see story left). But then he asked about the office and learned that it’s actually a musical.
