march 4th...

[Sapper-FIN]

... Isn´t that FI´s birthday?

[:FI:Genosse]

... Isn´t that FI´s birthday?

I´m afraid it´s not ... on March 3rd, 2003 this BB was setup ... the squad was established in 2002, I think. But ask our historian Fenian about it ... he should know it, shouldn´t he?

[:FI:Falcon]

while on the subject of birthdays ...

born in frosty February are ...

Snaphoo: Feb 20

and

Genosse: Feb 28

happy b-day mates!

[:FI:Spitsfire]

Happy birthday nwarly and past!

All of you

[Baderslegs]

So the BB was started on 3/3/3. Hmmmm!!

My dear old dad was born on 3/3/33

Methinks 3 a significant number in my life.

[:FI:Fenian]

As Gen rightly says it was way back in the mists of time... 2001 I believe - on the Glorious 12th of July.

I was walking back, umbrella shoved firmly up me keester, having knocked back a case of Black Bush and as I was approaching the Falls Road I noticed a hurling ball roll down the road and disappear into a wee hole near a bush beside the footpath. Being a good citizen and patriotic Paddy, I decided to retrieve the ball in an effort to save some young Seamus the expense of having to shell out his pocket money for another sliotar (ball).

As I bent into the bush (as you do), my green sash fell off (this explains the umbrella in my keester) and there it was.... the squadron wa sjust lying there, passed out, in a daze and quite unconscious. I poked it with my brolly and got a simple 'Feck off' in response, whereupon I gathered it up into my sweaty wee paws and carted it off to the local convent to dry out.

I returned a week later and the squadron could once again walk, talk and make itself generally understood (Dog be with the days). Since the it has been downhill.

It seems like every week numerous people find the squadron passed out in some ditch somewhere and dutifully try to return it by saying hello on the board here. It's quite embarassing, but what can you do?

The squadron has a problem, you see. But it's not a big problem. Just a small case of eternal thirst. And I can fully empathise. Especially on Friday afternoons and on all days with a 'y' in them.

So you see, that's the history of the Fightin' Irish Squadron. There is none. It just sorta appeared. The second time I 'found' the squadron, A kind but wildly drunk German called Gen was walking blindly in the night and, seeing me struggle under the weight of our friend the squadron, offered to lend a hand. Since that day we've been keeping an eye on it, so it doesn't get up to too much mischief. We've even employed (in the biblical sense) several volunteers to help us 'protect' our charge.

The future, you ask?

Who knows.

I hear Slattery's Bar has just had a delivery from St. James' Gate, so we'll be heading up river for the moment. Bring your paddles.

[Ianus]

heeh!!

Now who's gonna win the Rugby today?

Happy birthdays people

[:FI:Macca]

and how can ya not love the Sqdrn:)

[:FI:Falcon]

and for March

the magical month of Mars, Ides, hares, and St. Patty

those who come a year closer to the inevitable are:

---- Dutch "I said Type Fours dammit!!!" man - March 28

---- I "We're getting electricity next week!" gor - March 8

and maybe, (cuz he's playing with my colonial sensibilities) ...

--- RULES, he sends this ... 060366

so it's either June or March.


HAPPY FLUFFY BIRTHDAY!

[:FI:Macca]

[Sapper-FIN]

I´ll drink to that!

[:FI:Macca]

I'll join ya Sapper and drink once again:)

[:FI:Gurberly]

As Gen rightly says it was way back in the mists of time... 2001 I believe - on the Glorious 12th of July.

I was walking back, umbrella shoved firmly up me keester, having knocked back a case of Black Bush and as I was approaching the Falls Road I noticed a hurling ball roll down the road and disappear into a wee hole near a bush beside the footpath. Being a good citizen and patriotic Paddy, I decided to retrieve the ball in an effort to save some young Seamus the expense of having to shell out his pocket money for another sliotar (ball).

As I bent into the bush (as you do), my green sash fell off (this explains the umbrella in my keester) and there it was.... the squadron wa sjust lying there, passed out, in a daze and quite unconscious. I poked it with my brolly and got a simple 'Feck off' in response, whereupon I gathered it up into my sweaty wee paws and carted it off to the local convent to dry out.

I returned a week later and the squadron could once again walk, talk and make itself generally understood (Dog be with the days). Since the it has been downhill.

It seems like every week numerous people find the squadron passed out in some ditch somewhere and dutifully try to return it by saying hello on the board here. It's quite embarassing, but what can you do?

The squadron has a problem, you see. But it's not a big problem. Just a small case of eternal thirst. And I can fully empathise. Especially on Friday afternoons and on all days with a 'y' in them.

So you see, that's the history of the Fightin' Irish Squadron. There is none. It just sorta appeared. The second time I 'found' the squadron, A kind but wildly drunk German called Gen was walking blindly in the night and, seeing me struggle under the weight of our friend the squadron, offered to lend a hand. Since that day we've been keeping an eye on it, so it doesn't get up to too much mischief. We've even employed (in the biblical sense) several volunteers to help us 'protect' our charge.

The future, you ask?

Who knows.

I hear Slattery's Bar has just had a delivery from St. James' Gate, so we'll be heading up river for the moment. Bring your paddles.

Sweet Mary mother of Jesus... A whole squad born and fully formed... and hiding under a bush.... A Mulberry Bush I presume rather than Kate's?

A second virgin birth?

...and Happy Birthday too

G

[:FI:Fenian]

I already told you... Black Bush

Or Shirley Bassey, as they call it up yonder

[Mutzy]

A Happy belated birthday guys!