One who chooses to bid farewell with a jolting thrust of the groin amid mass confusion and semi hysteria whilst possessed by the spirit of Sir Stephen Hawking.
"It is now time for me to depart."
"Yes. Farewell you fiend."
"Allow me to hump you over the threshold by means of strange familiarity."
"So be it, humperbatch."
"Parting is such sweet sorrow."
"Yes. Farewell you fiend."
"Allow me to hump you over the threshold by means of strange familiarity."
"So be it, humperbatch."
"Parting is such sweet sorrow."
by David Cowpell Downtrodden September 03, 2004
Almost human creature that beetles around Rathmines wearing a red cap, talking loudly to it's selves. Hat functions as a beacon for psychotic activity but also makes a fine, fine storage vehicle. Ideal for carrying spuds.
"Mama's red cap is white today."
"Shit! I didn't see the change coming."
"You just aren't street enough."
"Shit! I didn't see the change coming."
"You just aren't street enough."
by David Cowpell Downtrodden September 02, 2004
Geographical location for varying scientific projects such as, how long can scrambled eggs exist after being reheated 9 times? How many looneys can you fit within four walls? When does madness actually stop, if ever?
"Mmmm. I fancy a load up. Is there a local asylum I might indulge my appetite in?"
"Why yes! Try Kyliemore's. It's hilarious."
"Why yes! Try Kyliemore's. It's hilarious."
by David Cowpell Downtrodden September 02, 2004
When, even though you are forced to work a Saturday, the day is exempt from bovinity by the abscence of bovates and is filled with coffee, breaks, chat, surfing, crosswords, croissants,papers and fun.
"I hate working bloody Saturdays!"
"Yes, don't we all but it is a Super Saturday."
"Hurrah! No Boves!"
"Do you want anything from O'Brien's?"
"Yes, don't we all but it is a Super Saturday."
"Hurrah! No Boves!"
"Do you want anything from O'Brien's?"
by David Cowpell Downtrodden September 02, 2004
Larger species of greying elf found grazing in areas of dense literature. Believed to survive predominantly on crime novels, which it consumes leaving only traces of a brittle, crisp-like substance as evidence of its existence. Crispin-catching emerged as a popular pastime during the 1830's, but the practice is now obsolete. Historians have recently questioned the validity of crispin sightings, and indeed they are now generally regarded as mythical creatures by the majority of the populus, believed in only by crazed booksellers who have recently been Dowled.
"Quick carruthers! Fetch the rifle or indeed the dustpan and brush! I believe I have a crispin in my sights!"
by David Cowpell Downtrodden October 01, 2004
Ideal chosen excuse for having the morning off work, ideally to attend an interview for a rewarding job. Completely throws any bovate suspicion as hypochondria is accepted as the norm.
"I won't be in 'til 12 today as I have a physio appointment on my dodgy knee."
"Oh okay. I hope you feel better afterwards."
"Oh I will, you bove. I will. Lie-ins are truly therapeutic."
"Oh okay. I hope you feel better afterwards."
"Oh I will, you bove. I will. Lie-ins are truly therapeutic."
by David Cowpell Downtrodden September 02, 2004
To drink approximately 20 pints of shtout and to store them indefinitely just above your pelvis in a seventies suit (elastic) whilst sitting on a bench in a catatonic state in Rathmines, eyes barely open, but retaining the fine, ambassadorial persona of a leading eurocrat.
"Look at the state of Franz today!"
"He is surely locked out of this world."
"Decidedly Fischlered."
"Possibly Murphed also."
"He is surely locked out of this world."
"Decidedly Fischlered."
"Possibly Murphed also."
by David Cowpell Downtrodden September 02, 2004