Seamus Heaney goes to the chipper

“Eh, bag of chips, please”chips-poster

“No problem sir. Would you mind reading one of your poems while I cook these chips”

“Sorry, I don’t have them with me.”

“Ah Jaysus, didja never learn them off.”

“I only really came in for a bag of chips.”

“C’mon, don’t be shy, it’s only me in here ananyway. Give us one.”

“Sorry, no!”

“Ye’would if feckin Kofi feckin Annan was here buyin a batterburger.”

“I doubt if he’s ever eaten a batter burger.”

“I donno, everytime I turn on the feckin radio, you’re readin some poem out to some fecker who did somethin special or yer gettin an award for yiser poems. Yid think ye would learn them off.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll do it , if only to shut you up.”

“Is that whatye said to Kofi?”

“What? Don’t mess with me…Luigi”

“Luigi is the franchise, me name’s Bosco”

“Really?”

“Think it’s feckin funny do ye. Here’s yer chips. Salt and vinegar?”

“Yes please. Right, this poem is…”

“Hang on a minute. Oim a workin man. I don’t have all day to listen to you goin on.”

Bang! Heaney, against all his beliefs of peace and reconciliation smashes Bosco’s head on the counter. As Bosco is reeling, Heaney jumps the counter and sinks Bosco’s head into the chip oil screaming,

“Right then, Requiem for the Chippies!”

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