The people are fully entitled to feel depressed.

Your throwing a party and your invite list comprises the following people,

Michael (the undertaker) McGimpsey

Mitchel (do I really look like Adolf) McLoughlin

David (you couldn't cut me with knife) Trimble

Bairbre (the only colour is in my coat) De Brun

Dermot (i'll have a frontal labotomy) Nesbitt

John (i'd rather have a bottle in front of me) Hume

Gerry (shut to fuck up Ingram) Adams

*********************************************

General De Chastelain is doing the catering

The Andersonstown news are doing the travel arrangements

The D.U.P are bringing the drink

The entertainment is Frank Carson

And the babysitting is being done by the local priest

OF COURSE THEY'RE FUCKING DEPRESSED

God, the detail is in the Devil tonight...

(As opposed to, ach, you know...)