First a wedding dress, then a maternity dress, now I'm just trying to fit into ANY dress.

Tag Archives: Git

50 shades pic

The final chapter of my Fifty Shades of Grey parody, in which I wonder what it’d be like if Christian Grey was a Dubliner.


Fifty Shades of Shite – Vol IX


Git Grey checked his Blackberry and saw that Ana was off the plane and on her way to his apartment in the Docklands. Great; he hadn’t seen her in a few days since he followed her to London so he was looking forward to their reunion.

Wait till she saw what he had in store for her tonight, she was going to go mental for it. It was always the quiet ones. All that ‘Oh Git you’re smothering me, Oh Git you’re stalking me, Oh Git move it a bit to the left’  was all just a pretence; she loved it really.

Running to the door as the bell chimed, Git’s Inner God adjusted his gooter and leered at Ana as the door swung open to reveal her in all her porcelain-skinned glory.

‘Hi Git,’ she said, a bit wearily, nervous no doubt after the last time she had been in his Playroom.

‘Howaya love,’ Git said, pulling her by the hand in the room. ‘Jayze, ya look gorgeous. That’s a nice dress but it’d look nicer on my bedroom floor, wha’?!’

Delighted with himself, Git went in for the kill as his Inner God got the lads round for a poker night, grabbing Ana’s breasts and behind desperately, shoving his tongue down her throat.

‘I need to have you right now Ana, come into the Playroom,’ he begged, unable to control himself anymore.

Leading her into the cool dimness of his playroom, Git wasted no time removing Ana’s clothes and whipping off his top so that they were both naked in seconds.

‘Lie down on the bed Ana,’ he breathed, moving to the mahogany wardrobe beside the enormous super-king-sized bed and taking out a blindfold and a soft leather crop.

Bending over her, Git gently tied the blindfold around Ana’s eyes then shackled her to the bed so she couldn’t move.

‘Relax,’ he breathed, ‘you’re going to love this.’

Ana strained to hear as Git moved around the room again, her ears picking up the sound of a CD being put into Git’s stereo, the soft hiss filling the air from the surround-sound speakers.

‘Now, Ana,’ Git said, returning to the bed. ‘I’m gonna ride you in time to the music. This is one of my favourite songs, are you ready?’

Ana squirmed as the familiar beat eased out of the speakers. ‘Yeah yeah yeah yeah…‘ the music pounded, getting louder as Git traced the leather crop all over Ana’s naked body.

Slapping her nipples with a sharp belt of the crop Git crooned along to the song, getting more excited as the tempo increased.

She was a sexy lady, she had to get her thrill.

Thwack! He hit Ana’s inner thigh, his eyes glittering with excitement.

Back in the house for the year 2000, yeah, yeah, funky yeah.

Raising his crop, Git enthusiastically whipped Ana’s glistening skin, breathing harshly as he watched her splayed before him.

She’s a craic, she’s a craic, she’s a maniac.

Ana moaned as the music swelled, struggling against her shackles.

Are you ready now, move to the groove. Put your hands in the air. One simple question to answer. Are. You. Ready?

Git could take no more, throwing the crop to the side as he dove onto the bed next to Ana. He had to have her.

Sliding deep inside her, he kept up the rhythm of the music, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

She’s a maniac, maniac on the floor. And she’s dancin’. And she’s dancin’ like she’s never did before. RIGHT HERE ON THE DUBLIN DANCEFLOOR.

All Git could feel was Ana’s body under him and the beat of the music all around him. This was incredible, he was almost at the edge.

She said put your hands in the air. Side to side like you just don’t care.

‘Sing with me, Ana,’ Git implored, barely hanging on by his fingernails. ‘Please, I’m begging you.’

Wanting to please him, Ana cleared her throat and joined in, the music reaching a climax as they both roared.

Oggie, Oggie, Oggie, Oi! Oi! Oi!

‘Oh Ana,’ Git moaned. ‘I’m right there, I’m almost there.’


Giving one last enormous thrust of his hips, Git poured his love juice into Ana, holding her close as they both shuddered with pleasure and the final strains of the music faded away.

‘That was fuckin’ amazing,’ Git said, as he gently loosened her shackles and removed Ana’s blindfold, his Inner God dead to the world on the sofa after that performance.

Ana looked taken aback as she sat up, admitting ‘Actually… it wasn’t bad’, almost as though she couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

Overcome with emotion, Ana looked at Git, his handsome face relaxing as he fell almost into sleep. A strange feeling burbled up inside of her, something she’d never felt before.

‘Git,’ she said, shocked. ‘Git, I think … I think … I think I love you!’

Shite. He knew this was going to happen, after that night in London.

‘Ah right, Ana, that’s well, that’s … Listen, I don’t think I’m the man for you, I don’t deserve your love. We don’t want to rush things, sure we don’t?’ Git couldn’t get his clothes on fast enough.

Mortified, Ana jumped out of bed and dressed quickly, unable to look at Git.

‘If that’s the way you want it,’ she said, ‘I don’t think we can be friends. Better to just make a clean break.’

Grabbing her bag, she ran from the room, slamming the door to the apartment, the sound echoing around the penthouse.

Git sighed and flopped down on to the couch. That was the end of that, so. He probably should go after her, he thought, persuade her to come back to him. The place WAS a bit quiet without her.

Idly, his glance landed on his mobile phone, as he thought about calling her. Nah, probably better to let her cool off though, think things through for a few days, you know how dramatic burds can be. Feeling better and suddenly energised, Git grabbed the phone and tapped out a message. He sent it off to his mates, his former good humour returning.

‘Alright lads? Who’s on for Coppers tonight?’

Git grinned as the replies rolled in. This was going to be epic. And as for Ana? Ah, he’d deal with that in the morning.






50 shades pic

More from my Fifty Shades of Grey parody where I imagine what it would be like if Christian Grey was a Dubliner.


Fifty Shades of Shite, Vol VII


From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Visiting my mother

To: Git Grey

Hey Git,

Just to let you know I’m heading off to visit my Mam in London for a few days. I’ll call you when I get back, I think we probably need to talk.




From: Git Grey

Subject: ‘Talk’ ya durt burd

To: Anastasia Steele

Howaya love,

We need to talk alright. We haven’t talked in ages, since we went to dinner in me Ma’s house, ‘member that? On the pool table, yeow! I’ll give ya talk!

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises and All Round Legend



From Anastasia Steele

Subject: Talk

To: Git Grey

Er, no, Git, I mean really talk. About how things are between us. You know, your possessiveness and the way you try to control me and talk down to me. Also we should talk about the physical stuff. Look, we’ll talk when I get back.



From Git Grey

Subject: Talk

To: Anastasia Steele

Physical stuff! Yeah baby! That’s more like it!

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, With a Massive Boner



From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: You’re missing the point

To: Git Grey

You’re doing it again, ignoring what I have to say, Git. We really have to talk about this. I’m getting on the plane now and I have to stop emailing. I’ll talk to you in a few days.




From: Git Grey

Subject: Fwd Fwd Send this to all your mates or your face will get eaten by rabid goats

To: Anastasia Steele

Here, did you see this joke it’s brilliant. What you do is read it and it tells your fortune and then you send it on to everyone in your email within 14 minutes and your WISH COMES TRUE! It’s bleedin’ brilliant. Gowan, send it on, you’ve no sense of humour. Email me back will ya? You haven’t emailed me in three minutes. Where are you Ana? Who are you with? You. Are. Mine.

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Not Amused



From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: I’m on a plane

To: Git Grey

Will you stop emailing me Git? I’m getting on a plane to go and visit my mother. You know, having a life of my own? I’m allowed to go away for two days without emailing you every five minutes and telling you my business. You’re such a stalker.




From: Git Grey

Subject: You’re having an affair aren’t you?

To: Anastasia Steele

I can’t believe the minute my back is turned you’re having it off with someone else. Probably flirting with the Captain aren’t ya? You burds are all the same, all over ya one minute and then doin’ the dirt on ya the next. We’ll see about that, I’m not havin’ that. I’m not stupid you know. I’ve read the bukes, them romance novels all you wimmin love. I know that the sign of a real man is someone who knows exactly where his woman is at all times and who never lets her make a decision for herself or buy her own lunch or even go and visit her parents. I know! I’m not havin’ that, no way.

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Reachin’ for Me Squeaky Hammer



From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: That wasn’t funny Git

To: Git Grey

I cannot believe you did that, Git. I cannot believe you got the plane turned around to Dublin airport. You told them I was carrying a gun, Git! And gave them a description! They tied me up in the toilet, Git, and then strip searched me at the airport. I’m on a watch list now, Git! They think I’m a terrorist. You’ve gone too far this time.




From: Git Grey

Subject: You deserved it

To: Anastasia Steele

I’m rich Ana, get over it. You were ok with it when I was driving you places in my limo and we were in my luxury, mahogany smelling apartment. But you’re not ok with it when I use my wealth to get your plane turned around? Make up your mind. You can’t ignore me for a full three minutes and have me thinking you’re having an affair and think you’re going to get away with it.

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Dark and Brooding



From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Don’t annoy me

To: Git Grey

Listen you big weirdo. I’m on my way to the boat to go and visit my mother as I’m not allowed to fly anymore. I never want to talk to you again. Just eff off will you? And by the way, I faked it, every time.




From: Git Grey

Subject: Are you on the rag?

To: Anastasia Steele

The painters are in, are they? Liverpool playing at home? That’s grand love, don’t apologise, I know how you get when you have them. I was only thinking of you Ana when I got the plane turned around, I couldn’t bear not to be with you. Have some chocolate and watch a bit of the Notebuke or one o’ them other shite, er, I mean wimmins films. You’ll be grand, I won’t hold it against you.

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Everyman



From: Git Grey

Subject: Where are you Ana?

To: Anastasia Steele

It’s been 15 minutes and you haven’t replied Ana. There’s no phone restrictions on the ferry, why aren’t you emailing me back? I won’t have this Ana, I won’t.

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Losing it



From: Git Grey

Subject: I’m gettin’ annoyed now Ana

To: Anastasia Steele

Ah here. Come on now. It’s been an hour. A full hour without an email or a phonecall. Don’t you know people in relationships are supposed to be in contact with each other on the hour every hour? Don’t you KNOW that? Has daytime TV taught you NOTHING?

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Questioning whether he can go on.



From: Git Grey

Subject: Desperate Measures

To: Anastasia Steele

Don’t push me Ana. I’m a desperate man. Who knows what I’ll do! Answer my email, now, Ana! Answer it!

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Getting angry now



From: Git Grey

Subject: Careful…

To: Anastasia Steele

I have no wish to discuss our relationship any further over email, Ana. Are you enjoying that Stena Line fry up? I see you didn’t get the beans, but got extra black pudding. Ya good thing! I like those jeans on you, they show off your arse.

Git Grey, CEO Grey Enterprises, Pulling a master stroke


Anastasia Steele paled as she read Git’s email from her Blackberry, her fry rapidly cooling on the plate in front of her.

Holy fuck…

He’s here.



Fifty Shades of Shite Vol VIII


Git Grey nervously brushed his hair and fiddled with his tie as he got ready in his room in London’s Claridge’s. He was about to meet Ana and her mother Clara downstairs in the bar.

This had to go well. After he’d followed Ana onto the Stena Line ferry, he’d managed to convince her to give him another go. So he’d stalked her and annoyed her and had her arrested for being a suspected terrorist – was she going to hold it against him for life? They’d talked for hours, pacing the deck, watching the outline of Wales beginning to appear slowly on the horizon.

By the end of it she had agreed to meet with him for a drink once they got to London and she’d insisted he meet her mother, to get her opinion. If he was ever going to get his bit again, this meeting was crucial.

‘Ok Git,’ he addressed himself in the mirror. ‘Don’t fuck this up, righ’? Remember what Ana said; she’s an independent woman and all that jazz burds go on with.’ Loada shite, he thought, as he splashed aftershave on himself, all burds wanted was the ring on their finger and the life of Reilly, but you had to humour them, didn’t you?

Taking a deep breath, he strode from the room, tweaking the bedspread on the way out. Hopefully he’d be bringing Ana back here later and he wanted everything to be perfect.

Down in the bar, Ana was waiting with her mother, sipping a Cosmo, wearing jeans and a silky camisole. You’d think she’d have dressed up a bit, this was Claridge’s for Jaysis sake, Git thought, but at least he could see her nipples through the thin material. That was something.

The Ma wasn’t bad either. For an oul wan like. At least Ana wouldn’t turn into a total cow when she got older. He’d have to turn on the charm.

‘Mrs Steele,’ he bellowed, swooping in for a kiss. ‘You look the business, fair play to ya. Some wimmin let themselves go once they reach middle-age but you’re in your prime so you are. I can see where your daughter gets her tits, I mean looks, from!’

‘Mam, this is Git,’ Ana said wearily, rolling her eyes and taking a hearty slug of her drink.

‘A pleasure,’ Mrs Steele said, looking stunned – probably imagining the size of his lad – and shaking his hand briefly.

They settled in with their drinks and made awkward small talk to pass the time.

‘So, em, Git,’ Mrs Steele started, cautiously. ‘Ana tells me you’re in business. What exactly do you do?’

‘Ah ya know yourself, a bit o’ this, a bit o’ that. Wheelin’ and dealin’, that sort of thing. Tell ya the God’s honest truth, I’m not too sure. I’ve a board runs things for me, ya know, so I just let them get on with it and keep raking in the cash. I’ve the life sure don’t I?’ Git barked laughing, delighted with himself.

‘Oh I see,’ Mrs Steele replied, lost for words. ‘That’s, em, very interesting alright.’

Git ordered another round of drinks – couldn’t hurt – and launched loudly into an account of his last night out with the lads which involved falling off the Molly Malone statue at 3am.

Clara Steele looked at Ana and cocked an eyebrow at Git. ‘Really?’ she murmured, mystified.

‘Ah, he’s not that bad. I’ve had worse,’ Ana whispered, looking resigned. ‘He’s generous enough and makes me laugh. Mostly at him. But still, at least I’m laughing. Right?’

Clara Steele shrugged and downed the last of her drink. ‘Whatever you want, darling,’ she said, getting to her feet.

‘I’m off, Git,’ she said, interrupting his description of what he’d said to the Garda after being caught pissing against an ATM. ‘It was lovely to meet you. You two have a nice evening.’

Git breathed a sigh of relief as she left. That hadn’t been too bad. She hadn’t said much so he’d had to cover the silences but at least he had some great stories to tell.

‘Are ya right?’ he asked Ana, motioning with his head towards the lift. ‘Will we go up to the room, then? Come on, it’s been days. It has a jacuzzi and everything!’

Grabbing her hand he pulled her towards the lift, suddenly desperate to have her. Bursting into the door of his suite, he tugged her into the bathroom, all marble tiles and cool glass.

Kissing her, he slid his hand inside her cami – YESSSS no bra! – to fondle her breasts, unzipping her jeans with the other hand. Pulling off his own clothes, he was naked within seconds, thrusting against her.

‘Git wait,’ Ana breathed, struggling to free herself. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. It’s, well, ehm…’

‘Spit it out, Ana,’ Git said, pulling her jeans down over her knees. ‘I’m gagging here.’

‘I don’t think we can tonight, Git,’ Ana said, desperately, trying to stop him removing her knickers. ‘It’s just I’m … I’m …’

‘Ah Jaysis!’ Git exclaimed, copping on. ‘You ARE on the rag, aren’t you?!’ He looked in horror at the tampon string between Ana’s legs, trying to stop himself from puking in the sink.

‘I tried to tell you,’ Ana said. ‘But listen, it’s not a big deal. I can remove this and we can still … you know. Some people say it’s actually better during … You can even take it out yourself if you’d like, be a bit kinky.’

‘Jaysis NO!’ Git exclaimed, horrified. ‘You must be joking! No way am I doin’  that. I don’t know what bukes YOU’VE been reading but there’s no way I’m touching that! It’d be all over me. That’s disgustin’!’

Looking a bit green about the gills, Git quickly got dressed and handed Ana her jeans. Quicker she covered THAT up the better.

‘Come on,’ he said, wearily. ‘We’ll just cuddle, will we?’ Throwing himself on to the bed, he hoped Ana wouldn’t get the wrong end of the stick. They were only cuddling tonight cos of this. She better not get used to it.

Pulling Ana to his chest, he sighed heavily. She’d probably fall in love with him now, and then where would he be? He could feel this situation with Ana coming to a head; he had a big decision to make.


To be continued …


50 shades pic

The next installment of my Fifty Shades of Grey parody, in which I ponder on what it would be like if Christian Grey was a Dubliner …


Fifty Shades of Shite – Vol V


Git Grey hurried around his penthouse apartment, tidying up plates and cups and old newspapers from the past few days, hoping he’d be finished by the time Ana got there.

His housekeeper Mrs Jones was supposed to have done all this, but she was off sick again. Something to do with her kidneys – or ‘me watherworks’ as she called it – so he was forced to do it himself.

She wasn’t the best, Mrs Jones. She spent most of her time drinking tea and eating his biscuits, while smoking 40 Gold Bond and coughing ‘Moy Jayziz’ into her teacloth. She also point-blank refused to clean his playroom. The first time she’d seen it she’d given him a clip around the ear and told him to go to Confession, so they’d come to an agreement that she’d clean everywhere but in there.

He might see if he could convince her when she came back. It was a pain in the hoop cleaning the playroom. All those dildos and butt plugs and whips… nothing but dust gatherers.

He shoved the last of the newspapers under the sofa, and had just enough time to fling some plates into the dishwasher before the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of his Ana.

His Inner God strutted around to Staying Alive, snapping his fingers and clapping as he anticipated the evening ahead. He hadn’t had his bit in days; he was going to destroy her.

Flinging open the door, he ushered a nervous Ana into the penthouse, barely giving her a minute to take off her coat before he was pulling her into the playroom.

‘Get ‘em off love,’ he breathed. ‘I’m just going to slip into something, er, more comfortable.’ Moments later he returned bare-chested, wearing his oldest jeans, the ones he kept for painting and cutting the grass. No point in spoiling decent clothes after all.

Approaching a wide-eyed, naked Ana he grinned slowly as his Inner God browsed through a copy of Jugs; this was going to be good. She’d got herself undressed which was great – he couldn’t be doing with bras, stupid yokes – just her panties were left and they wouldn’t last long.

‘I’m going to shackle you now, Ana,’ he said quietly, approaching her stealthily, like a panther. His Inner God looked up briefly and gave him a brief ‘Gowan!’ before returning to his magazine. There were some good articles this month.

‘It’s the chain off me bicycle. I thought it’d be kinky. The oil will come out, don’t worry,’ Git reassured her, lashing her to the chandelier. His Inner God was doing the YMCA at this stage, really living it up.

Slowly he peeled Ana’s panties down her slender legs and keeping eye contact, brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply… Fuck! The bang off them! That was the last time he’d believe anything he read in a book. There was nothing sexy about smelling your girlfriend’s kaks. Noth. Ing.

‘Eh, sorry about that Ana,’ he said, trying to ignore his Inner God, who was wetting himself laughin’. ‘Let’s get back on track shall we? Now I’m going to beat you ’til you come, would you like that?’

Opening a cupboard, he took out his newest toy. He stroked it lovingly, knowing Ana was going to go mad for it. Walking around her naked form he gently tapped her arse, the rubber from the squeaky inflatable Euro 2012 hammer sliding pleasantly against her bare skin. Yeah, that was the stuff. His Inner God was paying attention now; the PlayStation was most definitely turned off.

Again and again he hit her with the hammer, the tempo of the squeak getting faster and faster as he lost himself in the moment. Ana was looking at him, slightly puzzled – probably her come face – as he beat her over and over.

He was so hard right now, his Inner God urging him on, closer and closer to the finish line.

‘Do you like that, Ana?’


‘Harder, Ana?’


‘More, do you want more?’


God this was sexy, he was so close.

‘Ana!’ Squeak ‘This.’ Squeak ‘Is.’ Squeak ‘So.’ Squeak ‘Bleedin’.’ Squeak ‘Hot.’ Squeak ‘This. Hammer. Was. Seventy. Percent. Off.’ Squeeeeeeaaakkk.

His inflatable hammer was almost a blur as he whipped her tender body, the tricolour flashing before his eyes, his Inner God holding a scarf aloft, singing The Fields of Athenry.

‘Oh Ana, Jaysis, Ana.’ Squeeeeaaak. ‘I can’t hold back any longer…’ Squeak. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh… TRAPATTONI!’

Collapsing in a heap on the floor, Git’s breathing slowly returned to normal. Thank God that hammer was wipe clean, his Inner God thought, winking slyly.

Unshackling Ana from the ceiling Git drew her towards him, settling down for a snooze, exhausted after all the hot lovin’.

‘Git,’ Ana said softly, sitting up and looking at him intently. Ah Jaysis, she wanted to talk. Why did burds always want to talk after the ride? Still, better humour her.

‘Yes Ana,’ he said, wondering if she’d notice if he closed his eyes, but deciding against it.

‘Do you think we should talk about, well, the sex? You know how it’s … how I don’t … ever …’

‘How you don’t ever know what you’re doing?’ Git interrupted, covering a yawn with his hand. ‘Nah, don’t worry about it, honest to God, it’s grand. You were a virgin sure, don’t worry, stick with me, you’ll learn.’

Getting up from the floor he stretched hugely, scratching his crotch – probably should throw these jeans in the wash – cutting off whatever waffle Ana was going on with and pulling her to her feet.

‘Listen, we’ve been going out now a few weeks, how would you feel about comin’ home to meet me Ma and Da on Sunday?’ he asked. ‘They’ve been annoyin’ the arse off me asking about you, so I said we’d go over for the dinner next week. Alright?’

‘Oh Git, I’m not sure … I don’t know … I … I’m not sure if I want … actually go on yeah, this I have to see,’ Ana said, looking amused all of a sudden.

Crazy bitch.

She’d be laughing on the other side of her face on Sunday when she saw what he had planned for her at his folks’ house. His Inner God rubbed his hands together and ordered a Chinese. Now the fun could really begin.


Fifty Shades of Shite – Vol VI


Git Grey stood at the Docklands Luas stop, waiting anxiously for Ana to arrive. He was bringing her to meet his Ma and Da and he was a bit worried; his family were bound to slag him, he’d never brought a girl home before.

His eyes brightened as he saw his love stumbling towards him across the tracks – Jaysis she was clumsy, she’d want to get her inner ear checked – taking in her slender body in her tight minidress. She wasn’t leaving much to the imagination. The sluh.

‘Howaya love,’ he said, grabbing her arse – no knickers – and planting a kiss on her forehead. ‘I got yer ticket here, a return, so put yisser money away.’ He knew how to treat women, did Git Grey, nobody could say otherwise.

‘I would have brought the Hummer today,’ he explained, as his Inner God mooched about looking for toast, dying from the night before. ‘But the Luas goes right past the house in Ballyer and I thought I’d save a bit on petrol, cos of the recession, you know yourself. Anyway, the last time I brought the Hummer the little bastards on the road had it up on blocks before I was even in the door.’

Forty-five minutes later they were walking up the drive of his parents’ house, Ana’s mouth open with shock, hardly able to take it in.

‘Lovely isn’t it,’ Git said, grinning. ‘Those are real stone lions there. I got them made specially. D’ya like the garden gnomes? There’s 47 of them, each handcrafted in Italy. This marble cladding didn’t come cheap either, I can tell ya. And the water feature there, d’ya see it? Pure class. Some of the neighbours said they thought it was a bit much for a terraced council house but they’re oney jealous.’

Taking a deep breath, Git rang the bell – Greensleeves – and waited for his parents to open the door. This was the moment of truth. Git’s mother opened the door, a wide smile on her face. Small and dark, wearing a pair of trousers and a top, she was swathed in an Italia 90 apron, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the oven.

‘Come in, come in,’ she said, welcoming them both into the hall. ‘Your father’s in the lounge, watching the television as usual. MOSSY! Get out here, Git’s here with his young wan.’

Git’s father lumbered out from the room next to the hall, glasses slipping off his face, an annoyed look about him. ‘Howaya,’ he said, briefly. ‘I’m just watchin’ Flog It, they’re about to find out how much the World War II medal is worth. I’ll be in for me dinner in a minneh.’

Mrs Grey ushered them in to the kitchen, where the preparations for Sunday dinner were well underway. Git’s sister Nikita and brother Darren were setting the table and there was a delicious smell coming from the oven.

The kitchen was homely and cluttered, shelves straining under the weight of photographs of Git and his siblings along with every single one of their relatives. A framed photograph of the Sacred Heart complete with glowing red lightbulb was on the far wall along with a poster of the Greys’ favourite local politician. Vote Vincent ‘Ballyfermot’ Jackson Number One, it said, below a picture of the cheery-faced local.

‘A grand lad, Vinno,’ Mr Grey said, coming into the kitchen and catching Ana staring at the poster. ‘Honest as the day is long and a lovely fella. Normal. He’d talk to yeh like, gameball so he is. Gameball.’

Git pulled Ana into the chair next to him as the dinner was served up, his Inner God groaning on the sofa, head pounding, trying to get a look up Ana’s skirt.

‘Now,’ Mrs Grey said, bustling around, organising plates. ‘I decided to take it easy today so we’d have more chance to chat, so I ordered in for the dinner. I’ve just been keepin’ it warm in a low oven. Mr Lam’s finest, the best takeaway Ballyer has to offer.’

‘Chinese?’ Ana asked, looking expectantly at the food being dished up.

‘Jaysis no, I don’t hold with that foreign muck at all,’ Mrs Grey said, horrified. ‘No, it’s chicken balls and chips and a few o’ them prawn cracker yokes. There’s a tub of curry sauce there as well if you want it. Mossy, pour the wine.’

Mr Grey appeared behind Ana, brandishing the bottle. ‘Show us your glass there love,’ he said, belching quietly. ”scuse me. A glass of Liebfraumlich, how’s that for ya?’

The Greys tucked into the food, laughing and joking companionably, devouring the lot before turning their attention to Ana.

‘So Ana,’ Darren said throwing a wicked grin at Git. ‘We’re surprised to see you here today. Git’s never brought a girl home. We thought he was a knob jockey.’

‘Darren!’ Mrs Grey exploded, belting him on the arm. ‘Don’t use that language in this house! An’ anyways, even if he was a knob jockey it wouldn’t matter, sure it wouldn’t love?’ she asked fondly, squeezing Git’s hand.

‘Eh, yeah, grand,’ Git said, standing up from the table hurriedly, trying to ignore his Inner God pissing himself shouting ‘knob jockey!’ over and over. ‘I’m just going to show Ana the grounds before we have to head off.’

Dragging Ana by the hand, he led her out to the back garden, a long narrow strip of land leading to an empty field. A souped up Subaru – Nikita’s pet project – took up a decent portion of the garden and a myriad of patio furniture cluttered the rest of it.

‘Through here,’ Git said directing Ana right to the bottom of the garden. ‘This is where I used to do all me thinkin’, me get rich schemes when I was a kid.’

Ana’s eyes widened as she saw a rundown shed with an old pool table in the centre, which had definitely seen better days. It only had three legs and was held up by a pile of old newspapers.

‘C’mon Ana,’ Git said, breathing harshly now. ‘I haven’t had me bit in three full hours; I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long. I know we’re in my parents’ house and my whole family is just metres away so you’d think I’d be able to control myself but I can’t, I have to have you now!’

He threw her head first onto the pool table – he had been right about the no knickers – and dived after her, the table rocking alarmingly, spurring him on.

Shoving up her dress, he pulled down his trousers – they were hanging off him, he didn’t even need to undo the top button – and started to thrust deeply into her. His Inner God slowly unzipped himself and started stroking his considerable length as he watched. The perv.

‘Ana,’ Git groaned. ‘We don’t have time for hot lovin’ now, someone could find us at any minute. This is just for me ok? You’re not to come. I know that sounds selfish but, trust me, it’ll make you feel closer to me.’

Ignoring Ana’s muttered ‘Nothing new there’ – burds wha’? – he thrust into her again and again, the table shuddering and clanking as he rode her faster and faster.

Git watched excitedly as Ana’s head knocked repeatedly off a group of snooker balls close to the top left corner. He was going to win on both levels tonight.

‘Yes Ana,’ he shouted, plunging into her, ‘almost there, ALMOST THERE! Four more, three more, two more … ah Jaysis, I’m … I’m … I’m going to POT THE EIGHT BALLLLL ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!’

Collapsing on top of Ana, breathing heavily, he grinned as he heard the satisfying plonk of the balls into the pockets; he’d always been good at snooker. Rolling over he wondered if his Ma had any dessert left. He could deffo go a few Mr Kipling tarts after that. This was turning out to be the best Sunday he’d had in years.


 To be continued …