Interview with Jedward and Simon Cowell
Me: Gentlemen. Thanks for sitting down with Coddlepot.
John: No problem.
Edward: Thanks for having us.
Simon: Coddle-who?
Me: John, plug that iron in, there’s a good lad.
John: Is there a socket?
Me: There’s an extension lead under your chair.
John: Ah, see it.
Simon: Sorry, what’s the iron for?
Me: I’m just going to give the lads’ fringes a once-over.
Edward: Cool.
John: Goody.
Simon: Are you deranged? You can’t run a hot iron over someone’s scalp.
Me: Isn’t that a matter for the courts?
Simon: No fringe ironing.
Me: Fine. Edward, be a good lad and plug in that strimmer.
Simon: Edward, do not touch that strimmer.
Edward: Stop shouting at me. I want Uncle Louis.
Me: What’s your problem Cowell?
Simon: My problem is that you’re liable to kill these lucrative little shits.
Me: Those neck-high trousers must be cutting off the circulation to your brain. I only want to give them a trim.
Simon: Is this a wind-up? This interview is over.
Me: Why you arrogant, square-headed prick.
Edward: Please guys, don’t fight.
Simon: Boys, get your coats.
John: I can’t find my mittens.
Edward: You silly-billy, they’re attached to your coat by string.
John: Don’t you condescend to me Eddie, you fat cunt.
Edward: Fat? We’re identical.
John: Bollox we’re identical. I’m hung like a horse.
Edward: You really know how to hurt me John.
Simon: See what you’ve started?
Me: Relax for Jaysus’ sake. It’s only an oul’ brotherly tiff.
John: You’re weak Eddie.
Me: Oh yes, here we go!
Edward: Stop it John.
John: That’s why mom never breastfed you. She could see you were the weak one.
Me: You going to take that Edward?
Edward: Stop it John, please.
Me: Loaf him John. He’s wide open.
John: You’re so weak Eddie. Sometimes I think you must be adopted, and that it’s a coincidence we look similar.
Me: Hit him John. Hit him. Hit him. HIT HIM, HIT HIM, HIT HIM, HIT HIM…
Simon: NO JOHN, DON’T!
John: ‘Ave it!
Me: Oooh. Edward? You all right mate? Jaysus, he’s out cold.
Simon: Christ John. He’s your brother.
John: You want some too Cowell?
Simon: No John, please.
John: How about you?
Me: No sir.
John: Help me roll him up in this carpet.
Me: Why? He’s unconscious, not dead.
Simon: Just do as he says. We can’t help Edward now, but we can still help ourselves.
Me: I’m scared Simon.
Simon: So am I. So am I…
Too dammed funny (excellent) for a day like today Flann, can’t handle it man
Tis indeed a dark, dark day for humanity Sniffle. You’d have to go back to the Spain game in 2002 for the last time football brought me this low.
A non-soccer man suggested 5 x penos in a field some where, any where, to sort the the dammed thing out Flann, which makes sense in that Irish mammy way.
But I want Carla Bruni to take their five, Mary Harney in goals for us and Mary Hannafin, sans glasses to take two. Mary Robinson can take one but only if she stops twitching and Mary O’Rourke can have one too, but she must be topless.
That leaves one for the Coddle pot team.
You own soccer skills are impeccable as are Sweary’s, so it’s a non- mastubatory toss off between the two Manuels.
I like the peno shootout suggestion Sniffle. But knowing how susceptible the French are to World Wars (it’s their Achilles heal), I’m thinking an invasion might learn ‘em about their future conduct.
we can’t invade, what with being neutral and all, but we could threaten to invade, maybe even a few of us go over on the Eurostar or something. Then, when they surrender, we can run the penos idea by them to sort the whole like out, just like we did in national school.
I like your thinking El Cuno. So we send the FCA over on the Eurostar, armed with hacksaws. When they get there, they instantly tuck into one of the Eifel Tower’s legs with the hacksaws. They keep sawing until the replay is agreed. Sounds like a plan.
you can hack, i’ll keep lookout at a cafe nearby, smoking Gauloises so as to fit in.