I’ve just moved from Donegal to start a law degree in Griffith College. Despite doing my best to blend in and mix with my peers in Muff, I never seemed to get accepted and I never worked out why. I’ve had lots of relationships, just never with a human being……of either sex. I’d love to leave my wellingtons in the closet and start a new chapter in my life.
When I first met my law tutor, Mrs O’Mally-McCarthy, I felt an instant connection, despite the fact that she’s a 57 year-old ‘cougar’ with four children, two failed
marriages behind her and according to what it says in the guys toilets, a drinking habit that would strike fear in a rugby team. Until recently I had given up all hope of finding true love, however, following a recent tutorial something amazing happened. One minute, I was leaning over Mrs O’Mally-McCarthy as she was pointing out the finer points of torts, taking care not to get my Arran knit snagged on her mobility scooter; the next, I was melting into her arms, somewhat overcome by the intensity of her Britney Spears, Midnight Fantasy. Although we’d only known each other for half an hour, she did things to me that I thought anatomically impossible and against several EU regulations and I find myself besotted. She wants me to move in with her this weekend before I pay the balance of my hall fees and has mentioned that she’d keep me in her sex dungeon. I’m very scared, yet very excited. What should I do? I related this to Ms Kennedy in the Student Welfare Office, but she said if I repeated it, she’d deny all knowledge and was no help at all.
1st Yr Law
That sounds like the time Brendan Harris-O’Connell convinced the whole
class that he had a real, live tiger in his back garden, when in fact it was
just his dog with a stripy rug sellotaped to its back; or the time my parents
promised me and my big sister a ‘fun’ family holiday in Dingle, which
actually turned out to be a miserable week trapped in an airtight caravan with
my flatulent granny teaching us every card game known to man; or indeed, the
time I thought I was getting a bargain by paying 1.50 for Sammy-Jo Kelly-O’Donohue’s Tiny Tears doll that turned out to be massively incontinent and had to go in the bin after just one day. You may have picked up a recurrent theme here, which is basically that things which appear too good to be true invariably are too good to be true. I suggest you decline your tutor’s invitation as diplomatically as possible, unless you want to run the risk of something terrible happening, like being chased through a back alley by an angry Alsatian wearing a carpet, or worse, getting failed in your course and ending up at GMIT.
Hope that helps!