Two boobs good, four boobs better

Its Summer, “the sun is out, birds are singing, bees are trying to have sex with them – as is my understanding…” and we all know there’s nothing better than relaxing with a bottle or two….except when its 8am and you’ve just woken up! After about an hours sleep, I was gently awoken at 8am by my mother announcing that there was a package for me. Excited, if not a bit confused, I pulled myself out of bed and read the label on this suspicious postal present:

A little too neat for the postman...

“Hmm, seems a bit strange”, I thought to myself, “Fuck it, at least it’s not another depressing bank statement.” So I slowly peeled back the opening of package to find a warm bottle of ‘Rachmaninoff Vodka Ice’ staring back at me…

Disrespect...complete with straw!

I had just been ICED and as it turned out, so had about 5 other of my friends!

As defined by the almighty Wikipedia:

“Icing is a drinking game in which an individual or a group of individuals coerce another into drinking a bottle of Smirnoff Ice. Participants are encouraged to come up with elaborate ways to present the Smirnoff Ice to their targets by hiding bottles in inconspicuous locations. Humor, irony, and humiliation are also highly encouraged.”

Its a cruel, cruel game that started in America with two simple rules:

1. When presented with a Smirnoff Ice the target must drink it while on one knee. This is referred to as “getting iced“.
2. When “getting iced” a target can present their own Smirnoff Ice to cause the original initiator to be “iced” instead. This is referred to as an “ice block“.

The cheap bastards didn’t even have the decency to use an actual Smirnoff Ice…but an Icing is an Icing. I got down on one knee in my front room and downed it like the whore I am. I’m not a huge fan of alcopops or drinking at 8am…but a game is a game, and I’m not losing.

IT’S ON!

If you ever get Iced, you can blame these people and your dickhead friends. Remember to take a picture, this is a game after all…someone has to win! I can see this getting out of hand very quickly.

Send your pics to: inbox@boob.ie

Wankers give thumbs up, Dave. Wanker.

We’ve all got a friend like Dave.

He shows up when you don’t want him to.

He will get drunk and hack into your voicemail changing it to a bad Mr T impression with a dodgy Cavan accent.

He’ll invite you around for dinner and make you do the cooking and washing up while he chats up your ma.

He always insists that you bring your ma to dinner.

He once did a one man rendition of Mary Poppins and won a Tony award.

He didn’t thank us in his acceptance speech.

He holds the world record for the largest Cornetto made out of a traffic cone he made me steal.

He didn’t thank me in his acceptance speech.

He tells really bad jokes and fucks up the punchline.

We could go on, but we needn’t bother.  For someone has set up a Facebook group to celebrate the hate.  It’s been going for a year or two, but we think that it needs to be revived.  Because we all have a friend that gets right on our tits.

This way you can channel your hate and rage into this instead of breaking the legs of stray cats.  Not that we’ve ever done that, you understand.

Hate Dave.  It’s good for you.

"Captain Britain" wasn't quite as successful as his cross-atlantic counterpart

“Your name is on the list”