You call that a night of violence, laughs Belfast old-timer

AN elderly Belfast resident is chuckling at the relatively small scale of last night’s violence. 

86-year-old Oliver O’Connor is smiling indulgently at the idea that last night even remotely compares to the centuries of riots, sectarian clashes, and bomb blasts that have plagued the streets of his home city.

He said: “Ah, some buses and houses got a bit on fire, did they? Boys will be boys. Letting off steam after GCSEs, I expect.

“Maybe I’m jaded, but a kerfuffle following a knife attack doesn’t really register once you’ve lived through decades of bombing, shootings and reprisals. Back in the day we’d call last night a slow Tuesday.

“Where are the paratroopers? Where are the Army checking identity papers of ordinary folk on every street? For me, it barely counts as violence if a tank doesn’t come rumbling down a residential road.

“Do I condone last nights behaviour? Sure no, but unless this spirals into years of entrenched warfare about Northern Ireland’s place in the United Kingdom, it doesn’t touch the sides.”

He added: “If you’re going to chant ‘foreigners out’, at least direct it at the English. What happened to tradition?”

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Man fails to get himself in mood for wank

A MAN’s attempt to treat himself to a solo sexual experience while on a business trip has foundered on his own lack of interest. 

Martin Bishop checked into a Premier Inn yesterday evening, anticipating a night of flirtatious lone fantasy culminating in unhurried, languorous masturbation.

He said: “Usually it’s what I build the evening around. Don’t judge me. There’s not much else to do in Loughborough.

“I browse a little on my phone, shower, lay out nude watching Pointless and eating the complimentary biscuits, slowly building up to taking myself firmly in hand. But last night? I wasn’t feeling it.

“Undeterred and determined to make the most of this opportunity, I took myself out to dinner. Maybe a few glasses of wine would help get the juices flowing. Or, you know, two tins of rosé from Sainsbury’s after my KFC.

“Unfortunately, I kept having invasive thoughts about the next day’s presentation and couldn’t focus. Every time I thought about Salma Hayek I ended up back on disappointing Q2 regional sales.

“I was lying there, knob in hand, porn on phone, the moment couldn’t have been more right. And nothing. Eventually I gave up, turned over in a huff and went to sleep.

“Ah, there’s nothing so lonely as lying in a budget hotel’s king-size bed with no desire to touch yourself.”