Thursday, December 19, 2002



Am I not getting something here? I was up in Dublin ALL weekend, (am still here, as it happens) and I recieved not one text message/ phone call from anxious friends requesting my whereabouts. Do you not want me out every Saturday? Am I... unloved? (unthinkable, I know) All stinking term I send you ungrateful wretches the most heavenly entertaining correspondence via email and come the weekend, a weekend VERY close to Christmas may I add, no one requires my spectacular presence on a night out!

As I was friendless and alone this weekend, I resorted to my own entertainment. I took up smoking. I gave up smoking. I cleaned the kitchen. I washed the bath. I watered the plants. I spat into the gardens of the groundfloor flats, trying to get a reaction from the tenants. No luck. As a last resort I took to drink. I raided someones cans of Dutch Gold which had been left, somewhat foolishly, unattended in our fridge and wrote four pages of my English essay slightly drunk. It is quite remarkable how well I write with a few drinks in me. In fact, I am drunk now- hic!

Perusing my work the next day I was somewhat alarmed to see the amount of exclamation points used in my intoxicated state.

Sample line:
It is amazing how female litreature continues to flourish under the weight of male hypocrasy! It is undoubtedly time for a new female revolution, since the sixties are long over my friend!

I did of course amend that little gem before handing in the essay since it was actually about books and not whatever-the-fuck-comes-out-of-Lucy's-head-including-song-lyrics. I expect a first.


Give Marie a break will ya, youre always at her.
Lynne Kirby, westlife fan (hee hee)
Lucy! I cant belive you didnt mention how you met Don Conroy! And you who is so fond of his work!
Marie Connolly, some strange person I dont know but lives in my house for some unknown reason
How are you proud for having met Dana? I would have ran away and though happy thoughts- all things bright and beautiful perhaps! tee hee!
Donna Purcell, Limerick student (pah!)
You write well for a UCD student- in fact I'm surprised you can write at all!
Grainne Walsh, Trinity asshole
What does 'encantado de conocerle' mean?
Amy Burns, dumb person

Though I have been telling marie for many months now- 'Marie, if youre not good Santy wont come!'- she has been behaving badly constantly and blatantly disobeying me. The highpoint of this was, I suspect as I was not there to see it, Saturday night when, without my supervision, Marie went on a mad drunken rampage. Not only was she skulling back drink at a disgustingly gluttonous rate, she was also kissing boys (!) and being violently ill in peoples houses (!!). Has this girl no moral guidence, I hear you ask? I prefer to think of her as the devil incarnate, as it gets her poor parents off the hook.


'in the main'

I used this A LOT in my essay today and what I would very much like to know is- does it mean anything? I fear it is a load of crap. I was using it to mean generally. Can anyone correct me?
For the interest of my non- Spanish speaking readers, 'Encantado de conocerle' means delighted to meet you, and I intend to use it in my Spanish oral exam in April. How prepared am I?


Because of the influx of replies to my request for job applicants, I have been a busy bunny all week and have been unable to devote sufficent attention to the content of this newsletter. Or my essay in fact. The essay is now gone in however (2910 words, thank you very much) but as I am presently at home in, As applicant Ms A.Mullen calls 'the posh place by the sea', Tramore my brain has become the stagnant shallow pool of lethargy and boredom that is typical of all Tramore dwellers. I apologise profusely for the absence of my usual sparkling wit from this newsletter, I plan to get very drunk VERY soon and fall over a lot.

A list of Christmas gifts which would be pleasing to the editor is available upon application. Please do not go off and buy me stuff without asking me cos you will surely get it wrong. I am really deep and you may find it difficult to buy for me. Hence the list. How good I am to you all!

Monday, December 16, 2002



How nice it is to go home to one's fans! I cannot count how many times I was told how beloved my newsletter was to desperate students all around Ireland! Mr David Power also said that he has shown it to an American friend of his and SHE liked it. This news upsets me greatly. It is a well known fact that Americans have no sense of humour, and also I have just decided, no taste. So I take this as an insult.

Did anyone grab me and urge a glass into my hand? No. Not even a wrinkled five euro note was thrust upon me as a sign of yuletide good will! Oh, words are all very good but they dont wet a parched throat like a glass of something wet can! You stingy bastards, its my birthday in three months i dont want to see a repeat performance of this ungenerous Christmas!


Ms Eavan McGovern accosted me in my local public house last night and burbled for quite some time about something she had emailed to me. This is what i found in my inbox this morning. Ms McGovern has claimed that she finds alcohol greatly conducive to her writing. I believe this is evidenced in her writing below.

'Hello there, Lucy, to you I write,
This icy cold December night,
Your witty and sharp writing I must commend
My literary minded, book loving friend,
For ofts the time I get funny looks,
When in the library hemmed in by books,
Cos raucous giggling can be heard from me,
As i read your work alongside anatomy,
Your script is bursting with spontaneity
loved not just by me but by my med. family,
Shakespeare and Heaney, it's time to make way
Cos making her mark is this Tramore lady!'

Can I just point out that I had nothing to do with that at all, she thought it up herself. I must admire the poets confident use of rhyme and also her spelling- i cannot spell 'raucous'. Or 'spontaneity'. Though hero worship is, for me as it is for all the great role models to the young, rather burdensome i must admit that such lovely ringing praise is always welcome though Ms McGovern should know that a monetary donation to my "campaign fund" is also greatly appreciated.


Fell over on muddy bank and got very dirty, and was observed by jeering and rude young men in passing automobile. Pride sincerely abashed. Happy?!


Marie, being slightly intoxicated last night and unfortunatly without my guidance, wandered down to taxi office in the wee hours of the morning and proceeded to proclaim in loud and not uncertain tones that a certain person of the female persuasion, who shall remain nameless, was 'fucking easy' went on to destroy any claims to virtue this young lady might have had. Unfortunatly the young lady in question was sitting on a wall not very far away.

I must add, to compound the readers horror, that Marie knew the young lady was in very close proximity to her and continued to slander her heedless to all attempts to silence her. I must repeat my earlier assertion that Marie is a wicked person and should be burnt at the stake. Any volunteers for getting together an angry mob and attacking her with pitchforks, please contact me.


Algae or fungus that have both male and female reproductive organs, and are thus self- fertilizing.
That is fucking disgusting.


Mags O'Neill, who up until last night I considered my friend, has recently told me that, 'I bet Marie would be easier to live with than you'. Horror struck, I could not answer.

'The socks' I whispered, 'theyre everywhere!'
She would not believe me. 'She leaves her books in piles on the floor' i pointed out angrily. 'And shes always telling me the same stories over and over again'

Who can honestly say that they think I would be worse to live with than Marie? I mean, seriously!

Thursday, December 12, 2002




On Monday morning last, when UCD student Lucy Aughney attempted to rise her roommate from bed as she had been asked to do the previous evening, she was greeted with a series of foul mouthed slurs and curses. Ms Aughney, having being told my her roommate Ms Marie Connolly to 'wake me before you go to work tomorrow will ya, I have to fucking study', bent over her friends sleeping head and told her in a low voice that it was time to get up. Ms Connolly responded negatively.

Lucy tried again. Ms Connolly told her to get lost. Lucy pointed out that she had told her to wake her the previous evening. Ms Connolly snorted in derision. Upon a further attempt to rise her, Lucy was surprised and upset when her roommate sat up in her bed and declared herself 'fucking wrecked' and requested that Lucy went and 'fucked herself' because 'fuck off youre not my fucking mother!'

Lucy stumbled from the room, her mind reeling. She says what hit her the most was not the brutal verbal abuse she herself recieved but the disrespectful way Ms Connolly referred to her mother, the lovely Mrs Kathleen Connolly. Fellow house- mate Claire Crean expressed concern at Ms Connollys lazy and disrespectful behaviour: 'I was frankly shocked at Marie's attitude, I mean shes in college now, does she think its all just a big doss or something?' Ms Crean added that this is nothing new for Marie, she has 'always been a bitch'.

Upon further questioning later in the day, Marie did not apologize for her unruly behaviour but put it down to 'having a toasted cheese sandwich before bed'. Explaining further she said 'everyone knows cheese gives you nightmares. So I was probably really grumpy from all the bad dreams I had'.

Ms Aughney has declared herself not entirely satisfied with this explanation but in the name of safety has removed all dairy products from the house.


Never heard of the language, 'Eglish' Lucy.
Amy Burns, Ugly Wuglie
Mention me in your next one will ya?!
Janine Whyte, attention seeking person.
You'd better not have got yourself a D4 accent when you come home!
Mairead Flanagan, Waterford dweller

They fuck you up, your mum and dad- they may not mean to but they do.
Philip Larkin, This Be The Verse
Though he is a dead British man, Philip Larkin has a lot in common with Marie Connolly. No, not the toyings with homosexuality. Or even the schoolgirl porn he loved. Look beyond the superficial similarities and you will see that he, as evidenced by this quote from a poem, had no respect for his mammy either. In fact, I must point out that bothe used the words 'fuck' and 'mum' in the same sentence! What does this tell you, eh? lots!


Meaning: Showing lack of courage and determination.
Eg; The sleeping student was extremly pusillanimous in her inabilty to rise from her bed.


Since I have been abiding in the lovely city of Dublin, I have discovered that it is called 'the lovely city of Dublin' for a reason. This reason is that all the lovliest and most attractive people live here making it glow with lovliness. A great source of this lovliness is the copious amounts of celebrities that abide here alongside me. And I have been surprised how many of them seem to flock to me. Like to like as the famous physicist said (probably).

One has to know where to go of course to meet these lovely people. They are all living in Dublin for a reason and that reason is that every other county is shit for celebrity hangouts. The most glamorous person you'd get anywhere else would be Peig Sayers looking at the boats in Galway bay or something (yes I know shes dead).

I have compiled a short list of some of the lovely famous people I have sighted in Dublin and the place of sighting for your interest. Well, partly for your interest, mainly for my own satisfaction.

Dana- AIB bank
Ursula Hannigan- Kildare St
Mick Lally- Marks and Spencers
Tommy Tiernan- Dame St
Maria Doyle Kennedy- Alan Hanna's, Rathmines
Posh, English- sounding chap off Fair City- Alan Hanna's Rathmines

Yes, I know, I am great. I am practicely famous myself I have so many famous mates!

Just the one really. If anyone knows a girl called Deirdre who's from Donegal, stop reading now. Anyway, her names Deirdre, she's from Donegal and she plans to open her own bookshop some day, but she also wants to sell (and I quote), 'crafts I make myself'. Odd odd odd. She especialy enjoys crochet and making handbags and purses and beaded necklaces for her friends. She makes clay beads in her oven at home for the necklaces. Dum de dum dum...

Since I've started back in the bookshop, she (who may I point out has only been working there a monmth and only just started learning how to service) is giving me instructions. I have tried my notorious death- inducing gaze on her when shes looking the other way, but she is strangely resistant. Here is a direct quote from her, hereafter known as squirrely- fucking- dickface. The squirrely part is cos she looks like a sleepy squirrel.

'Hi Lucy, would you mind not winding the prittstick down the whole way to the bottom of the tube when youre finished using it cos it leaves a little hole in the middle and its really annoying, you know?'

Why?! Why is it annoying? Its a hole! It keeps the prittstick from drying out overnight! Dont get me started on how she moves my sellotape over beside her and hogs the stamp pad and always, ALWAYS takes the good scissors, or I may cry.

Today however she committed the most awful of crimes. She insulted Mundy! If any of ye were listening to Pat Kenny this morning, Mundy was on talking about some program hes doing on RTE and then he played 'July', which, as many of you may know, is a particular favourite of mine. I was there singin along, having a bit of a dance as well if truth be told and she goes; Who's this singing?

It's Mundy, says I.
Oh, says she, he has a real cult follwing with students all right doesnt he?
With STUDENTS!!!?!
I just glared at her. And she kept working away himming a little Monkees tune. Skank. First of all, i disdain the idea that the fabulous Mundy could be succesful for only frivilious and cultish reasons. Secondly, and more pertinent I belive, I HATE students and I will not be classed as one! I hate them, they drink too much and are always getting in surveys and making the rest of us 18- 24 yr olds look bad. So, naturally I hate the bitch and am working on ways to get her fired. Answers on a postcard to the usual address.


My most sincere apologies for not keeping to my usually notoriously high writing standards and quality of content (!)of my newsletters. I can only blame this on my staff, they are extremly lazy and never do anything I ask them. You'd swear I was the only one working here they way they sit around! Some days they dont even show up at the office! I am firing them all as of this second and advertising for new employees. Please email me your CV and a non- ugly photo if you wish to apply. No Trinity ass holes need apply. You WILL be ridiculed.

Tuesday, November 12, 2002




*Lucy voted 'messiest housemate' by other housemates. Lucy demands a recount
*Lucy flashes out in fancy new nike footwear- which the inmates of UCD fail to notice and praise despite repeated efforts to display them.
*Marie plans outfit to woo Mr David Grey in on Thursday. Lucy's innocent comment that he is 'probably married' is scorned by Marie
*Marie uses new clothes horse for first time. Her initial response is 'good drying time, sturdy structure'.
*Eavan McGovern continues to avoid checking her mail, so no newsletters will deliver, rendering any mention of her name in a bitchy light as she is not receiving them. Darn! Someone tell her, please?


Right, these two hunter guys were out in the woods doing what you do in the woods- No Marie, not gay sex! That's what YOU do in the woods! They were hunting right and suddenly the guy in front starts grasping at his throat- hack, hack!- and coughing and spluttering and then he falls right over- bang!- hits the forest floor with a thud, squirms around for a bit until finally his eyes roll back in his head and he lies still.

His friend is in considerable shock- Hey buddy what's the matta? You sick buddy? Shit buddy, you ok?
So he grabs his mobile phone and calls 999- Hey my buddy was coughing and choking and now he's slumped on the ground with a deathly pallor on his brow! I think he might be dead!!
So the 999 operator says- ok, ok, calm down, breathe with me, calm- now, are you absolutely sure he's dead?
Hello? she says to empty space. What's happening she wonders,

BANG!! echoes through the forest and down the phone line to the operator-

Okay, I'm sure, what next? comes the voice from the end of the phone

That was voted to be the funniest joke in the world, my aunt saw it somewhere- It must have been all Americans voting.


Because of intervention on behalf of Ms Connolly by her legal team, I am unable to bring you the promised list of Marie's bad habits. Nor can I ever mention her name in relation to highlighter damaging incidents. I can however bring you the next best thing- the all new, updated and revivified Marie Fucks Up column!!


Yes my friends, for my weeks I have been complaining that nothing upsetting/ mortifying happens to me anymore, thus the demise of the dearly loved Lucy Fucks Up column. To my utmost surprise I have recently discovered that the reason for this is not because I am boring, but because newly hatched first year student Marie Connolly is taking the fall for me!

Yes, this year it is Marie who is staying the dumb stuff, losing things and wandering around in a confused daze. Her periodic blindness due to the removal of her contact lenses gives me great hope for the future- very soon I expect her to be walking into trees and falling over in public!

May my legacy live on in the hearts of first years everywhere!


Errr... D4heads wear pink the whole time? And drive jeeps? I'm out.


It is my great pleasure to relate to you my scientific findings on this matter. A couple of weeks ago, after a particularly hectic night on the tiles of Tramore's most illustrious niteclub, i wandered home pondering the stars and the meaning of life and fell into bed at an early AM.

Trying to motivate myself to get up and turn off the light, my gaze skittered round my room in search of a long stick like object with which I could turn off light switch without getting out of bed, when my eyes settled upon the map Of Tolkien's Middle Earth hanging upon
my wall. [Yes, I am a nerd; what of it?] In my somewhat inebriated state I noticed that Middle Earth is unusually similar to the West of Ireland in its Coastline and geographic landforms.

Struck somewhat euphoric by my discovery, I giggled loudly to myself for a few minutes until my dear mother arrived from the next room with a murderous look and turned off my light for me. So the tale has a happy ending.

The next morning I woke with the sun at noon and discounting the harried glance of my mother, immediately began a systematic comparison of the two regions using my poster and my sisters school atlas. These are my findings.

The mighty kingdom of Gondor is in fact the slightly less mighty county of Galway.
The busy bay of Belfalas is Galway bay.
Laketown, in the North of Middle Earth, is also known as Foxford.
The Shire is sited near Castlebar... meaning,

The dwelling place of all that is evil and foul, the home of the ring and its vile master, that place called Mordor is in fact... ATHLONE!

You have been warned...

Tuesday, September 17, 2002


*****Breaking news*****


*Joy and love and peace and harmony flood through universe!*

The wonderous day was yesterday, when joyous young mother Lynne gave birth to her first masculine child, at 8.16 yesterday evening. Weighing in at a healthy 6lb 13, the healthcare professionals delivering the child were amazed by his striking good looks and immediate charisma upon leaving his mothers womb.

'That little guy, he's something else!' exclaimed an attending nurse.

Upon request, the new mother informed us that master Kirby does indeed posess ten fingers and toes and 'a whole lot of hair!'

NEWS JUST IN!!: Baby to be christened JOSHUA. Friend Lucy expressed dissapointment at not having the child named after her until it was pointed out (repeatedly) that it was a BOY child.

In other news:
*Lucy asks mammy where babies come from!*
*Mammy explains about the stork and the whole dropping babies down chimneys lark*
*Lucy breathes sigh of relief when she recalls new flat not equipped with chimney. No babies for me then!

Monday, April 15, 2002



Hello! Or as they say in Japan, Konnichiwa!

In a shocking incident last Friday evening, Miss Fianait Ni Gallachorarara (?) insulted the esteemed editor of this publication, Miss Lucy 'Lovely' Aughney. 'I am extremely disappointed at her standard of spoken English', stated Miss Ni Galachaaha. 'From her famed newsletters i always though her well spoken and eloquent but upon meeting her in person, i find her uncouth, foul mouthed and ignorant.'

Miss Ni Galllaghcoir also called into question the legitimacy of Miss Aughney's authorship of this newsletter, saying she doubted miss Aughney's capability to read, let alone write. She suggested Lucy Aughney was used by a sinister mind as a glamorous front to an unknown person's mind warping ramblings.

Miss Ni Gillacuddy said her suspicion was first aroused when Miss Aughney referred to a paperback novel for the meaning of a word she intended to use in her next newsletter. 'Its total fraud' complained miss Galapagos. 'I always assumed she knew those words, but she told us she finds big words in books and then looks up the meanings after! She's not clever at all!'

In response to these allegations, Miss Aughney said: 'Does she think im f**king Shakespeare or something? Who the f**k knows what those f**king words mean without looking them up? Who's she to talk about being F**king clever anyway- f**king primary teachers, think they know everything!'

One who declined comment however, was Miss Grainne Walsh who witnessed the exchange between the two ladies. When asked about her views on the matter she pointed out somewhat obscurely, 'Lucy bit me in second class y'know. In the line after break. It hurt.' All other attempts to contact Miss Walsh have been marred by her being in a permanent alcohol induced stupor.

We await further revelations on this issue.


Lucy- I have a stalker you could borrow; for a reasonable rent of course.
Jenny Kiely, Car- driver.
Luceeee, i never get any emails, i have no friends- send me some pleeeeease!
Marie Connolly, deprived child.
I've got new runners with shiny stripes on, i do.
Annie Mullen, odd girl
The 8.45 bus to Waterford has left Georges Quay. Be more promt in future.
Rapid Express Office, assholes.


'Myoclonic Jerk'
The unusual feeling of falling in the state before sleep, accompanied by sudden awakening.


Having only recently rid myself of the partial deafness of my left ear, which was the unwelcome and unusual residue of my departed head cold, I have now gladly acquired a aching shoulder and strained wrist. This pleases me greatly as I earned it during a gymnastic exercise on Monday night (last) when I fell over showing my flat mates how good i've gotten at cartwheels. Landing on the nearby coffee table, the ensuing pain required me to fashion a sling from a scarf and moan softly for the remainder of the evening.

It gives me great pride to remark on it, my first athletic injury, and speak of it often as 'an injury sustained during training'. The girls are behaving less than sympathetically though- Ann Marie rolled her eyes when i suggested i seek physiotherapy as part of my re- cooperation, and Janine refused point blank to write out my essays for me.

Janine refused to take me to the doctor either, even when my injury lingered till Thursday.

'But Janine,' I moaned ' what if i am permanently damaged and have to retire from the game? What a loss it would be to the world and Ireland in particular if i could not represent my country in the next Olympics!'

Janine was stern and unyielding, and particularly cruel when she pointed out i had probably aggravated it my sleeping on the floor for the last three nights. This, although true, was entirely unjustified and a low blow in my book. I had told her I was only sleeping on the floor to make sleeping an unattractive activity and hopefully lever me out of bed in the morning. It had, admittedly, failed as i had remained, sound asleep and snoring till 11am on the floor under my desk, but i still find her cruelty unwarrented and harsh.


What a blinder last tuesday was! The best yet, I feel and especially nice as it was observed in close quarters by about twenty people who actually know me. I was going, for the first time in many weeks, to my weekly ElS Creative writing meeting at 6pm last Tuesday. It being a few minutes past six, i was relived to find the door still open and stalked in smiling broadly, and hurried to bring a chair up to join the others at the table.
Who, oddly enough, were staring at me in wonder.

'Eh' came a voice from the head of the table. 'Theres no Creative Writing tonight- were just here to have a committee meeting'

Ah yes, said Lucy. Bumbling out of the room i whispered apologies to all and raced down the corridor, near tears. For many moments after i stomped round the empty halls of the Arts block, smacking myself repeatedly on the forehead. Dumb dumb dumb. Many of you may not recognise the humiliation in this incident, but doubt me not it is there. **********DID*YOU*KNOW?***********

The item of clothing 'apron' was originally called 'napron' until the word evolved over the years into its more easily pronnouncable form.
Thus, 'a napron' became 'an apron'.


Monday, April 08, 2002



According to an untrustworthy and suspect source (a Trinnian), intelliegnt people have deposits of zinc and copper in their hair. What, i wonder, do stupid people have in their hair? That, my friends is the sign of a genius- always questioning, always pushing the... bar or boat or something.

I can do Cartwheels now. And handstands. I was practicing last night when everyone went to bed, yet another avoidance tactic to get out of doing my linguistics essay. One thing i can not do very well though is summer- hey! How do ya spell summer- saults? Sommersaults? Summer? Salts? Very tricky altogether.


I dont want to give a quote!

Cathy Burns, as submitted by intrepid reporter and devious sister Amy Burns

Your last email was disappointingly short- I worry you may be filling your time with study instead!
Marie Connolly, concerned reader

When considering how you will punish me for forgetting your birthday, please ask yourself- what would bono do? and forgive me!!
Louise Brent, new addition to our happy family

Im not paying for you to repeat next year, you can just drop out of college!
Kate Murphy, cruel and sadistic mother
Well not a lecture really- more like a tutorial. An English tutorial as it happens- yes, with the tutor that i stalk!
'These tutorials', my English tutor announced, 'are coming to an end.' Awww said Lucy.
'This', she continued, 'is the final tutorial of the year.' Pity said Lucy. '
Today we will examine themes and motifs apparant in the novel Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.' Whoopee said Lucy.
'Lets move on' she said, 'to the relationship between Heathcliff and Hareton'. With terror I noticed the dark haired girl in the corner clear her throat.
'I believe' she began 'that this relationship has strong undercurrents of homosexuality'
A pause.
'Ehh- Hareton is Heathcliffs foster son.' the tutor pointed out gently.
'Ah, thats what she wants you to think! Why then did he get all jealous when Hareton falls in love with Catherine?!' She said triumphantly.
This girl is homosexual crazy. She has found Homosexual influences in almost all of the texts we have studied this year, bar 'Top Girls'which we read in December and a poem on old age we did in January.
My good pal Lynne has informed me that she never reads my newsletters, only scans them for her name, and seeing no mention of it, deletes! As a response, i hereby begin the Lynne Kirby Column, where i will dutifully discuss her to show my unabashed affection for my chum.
Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby!
Lynne Lynne Lynne!
Thank you. That is all i have to say.
Wow. Scary week for me this was. Despite my deliberate attempt to disasociate myself from my fellow UCD students (and TCD students- eww.), I have nonetheless amassed myself some buds. How this happened i know not. I put it down to my animal maganetism and rugged good looks (is ruggedness attractive quality in a woman? Doubtful).
Here is a short list of my independently earned mates. This does not include the friends of my roommates who are also attracted to me for the above reasons.
Emma: Odd looking girl in shell suit and glasses- member of my English tutorial- obsessed with homosexuality (male) in litreature.
Kim : Small girl with tumbling black curls and a permanent pout- member of my History tutorial- talks in teeny tiny voice when boys are around, unbeliveably racous and crude when they are not.
Siobhan: Neighbour- follows me to lectures every morning- underage alcoholic- prolific smoker- from Cavan, nothing more to be said really.
Claire: Fellow History student- very small- very brainy- unfortunatly plays many sports so am unable to bond with her for fear that she may form lesbian attachment- those sporty girls often do you know.
The latest addition to my "gang o' bitches" is one Aoife D, who unexpectedly addressed me as 'mate' during the concluding moments of our creative writing class last Thursday. The exchange went as follows-
Aoife- Are ya coming to the bar?
Lucy- Nah, sure Theos not goin is he? I wanted to crack in to him!
['Theo' is poet Theo Dorgan who was conducting the class on tha particular evening]
Aoife- Good one mate! Come though; will ya?
Lucy- Seriously, i have a fuckload of essays to do, it is embarrasing how stupid i am!
A- God! And I dont?! Ha ha!
L- Ha ha!
A- Will ya not come for one?
L- I'm grand thanks- see ya.
See? SEE? It is frightening how irresistable i am! She asked me for a drink THREE TIMES! Get over me!
All in all I know about eight people in Arts- another four I know to nod to in the hall. Why, I wonder am I doomed to meet all ten of them whenever I venture into the building! Most days I even bump into a lecturer or two also- my stalked english tutor especially often! It is a peculiar curse that such a reclusive genius as myself has the misfortune of meeting ten or so assholes whenever I wander the halls in vacant or in pensive mood! More often vacant actually.
Take for example my encounter with one such pleb last tuesday...
Asshole: Hi Lucy, hi!
Lucy: Oh... Hiya. How the fuck are ya.
Asshole... ooh, fine! Off to a lecture are ya? [Lucy is walking briskly away]
Lucy: Er... yes. [aside] in the bookshop!
I am just recently (half an hour ago) come from a probing and difficult mock exam with my History group. The question, on revolution and war, was unusually easy for me until I discovered with a shock that I had forgotten the date for the commencement of the American Revolution. This was a serious matter, and totally fucked up my whole essay structure. Taken greviously by surprise I gasped without thinking: 'fuuuuck!' Que disapproving looks from tutor and evil sneers from snotty boys in tutorial. Fuck indeed.
Swearing is not banned as such but refraining from using it does denote a certain civilised attitude. The lecturers swear for effect in lectures- using the term 'fucked' liberally to appear cool. Hah. One hip young lecturer announced the advancement of her hangover in colourful expletives every Monday and Thursday morning- and one Wednesday afternoon. The woman must drink all day.
Another wildly clever thing I did last week involved me old pals at creative writing. The poet lad was going around asking everyone for a word to do with 'risque' and while veryone else offered gems like 'sexy' or 'offensive' or 'scandalous', Lucy burbled for a moment before whispering- 'book'. Pausing momentarily, he eyed me with new found respect and fear. A risque book. Devilish.
Ahh. I love yis all. Ye all feel like my family. Thats why im putting ye all down on me census form as my foster children. Ahhh. And claiming the child benefit for ye. Ye kids cant bludge off me forever!
Excessively or pointlessly talkative. Not saying anything about anyone in particular...
My stalker has quit. Left, without giving two weeks notice. He's not getting a bloody reference off me, i can tell you! I am alone in the world, going without my daily business without the constant threat of death upon me. Sigh.... How lonely i am. Even a OBSESSIVE FREAK got bored. And i'm stuck with me.

Wednesday, March 27, 2002



Oh sweet Jesus. I have a stalker. Thank you thank you thank you! Its just what i've always wanted! Well, no, actually what i've always wanted is to be a stalker but this is just as good!

I have revealed the Janine pretender to be a fake, and i have since been recieving tantalising clues about his/her identity (sex undetermined), such as:

'Lets just say I know where you live...'
'I'll give you a clue. I enjoyed your newsletter, so nice to get a mention...'
'Hey, youre not allowed to mess with my head- I'm the stalker remember!'

WOW! I mean, wow! I have my very own crazed fan! I have my own opinions about who it is though- i've got an inkling it might be Enrique cos i'm always mentioning him. Or- Oh! It might be Bono! Yes, i'd say it's definatly Bono. Wow. Cool or what?

Thank to Amy for the 'Congratulations on your preganancy' card- very tactful.


Now I know just too much about you dont I?


What did Enrique say about the pregnancy? Or is it Bono's?

Mairead Flanagan, interested party
I must point out that it is necessary to procure a court order before delving into anyone's private phone records.
Graham Miller, phone person
Lucy, i have your present made, do you want to call in for it or will i post it to you?
Liz Kelleher, amazingly kind and generous person
To do something with stealth and silence.
eg; The mysterious figure crept surreptitiously through the trees.
'Lucy! You have a surreptitious stalker!' exclaimed the police.
Just thought that needed to be said.
What I have done is that i have successfully lost ALL the titles of my undone essays, meaning i am even more royally f**ked than i was before (if that is possible). I had them all (all ten of them- I am quite a bit behind) written out on pages and stuck in a plastic sheet which i have mislaid. Now I have to go tramping round the whole college collecting them all up again. What a bother. I hate my college.
Cant think of anything to say. Am v.v. bored. Oh well. Better go study. Huh.

Friday, March 22, 2002



One thing I love about people (bar me that is; I am not people) is that when you point out a mistake they have made in an insulting manner they become defensive and rude. Even though I alerted all of you about my birthday in time for you to jump on a plane/ train / camel and hot- foot it to Dublin to celebrate with me, not one person did! Nor did I recieve any straggling gifts this morning. What is up? Can you not take constructive critisism?! The only response I got were the vaugely nasty comments featured in the below quotes.

I did however get some gratification for my email, in the form of a witty ecard from Ms Rachel Heutson. Now Rachel, do you really think that suffices as recognition of my nineteenth birthday? Where is my REAL card, stuffed with 50 euro notes?

I also recieved odd and ambigious text messages from an unidentified source, claiming to be Janine, but this I found to be a lie as the texter questioned me on matters which any self respecting Janine would know!

Now hear this Mystery Number! I will find you out! My friend Tomas Breen knows Brian Fitzgerald who works in Esat and he can find things like that out and trace the number! You have been warned! (Oh yeah, you'll sort that one out for me right Tomas? Thanks mate)


Get Over Yourself!
Graham Miller, Ex- debs going person

I wasted my last few cent on sending you a picture msg for your birthday and you dont even mention me!
Sarah Brennan, irate person

I'm economical, it must be the business student in me!
Donna Purcell, free message sender person

No comment, no present, no notice.
Rest of stupid assholes who forgot my birthday
Yes, just my luck she showed up this morning to collect something. Uncommonly chirpy, even for her, i sent her to the shop for me as I was unavoidably, ah well- undressed as it happens. I distinctly requested a pack of BLUE WALKERS and a MORO, but she brings me back GREEN HUNKY DORYS and a TWIX without a smidgen of guilt or explanation!
What is wrong with her? Is she slightly deaf? Or perhaps she has a very poor memory. I prefer to think of her as evil however as she PURPOSEFULLY bought me the wrong food, and its my birthday and all! (well, it was recently my birthday) And everybody knows i despise twixs (twixes? twix'? twixis?) with a passion! GOD! The brazenness of that girl! She is so...GOD!
Well, no it didnt. I dont actually have any lectures cos im off till April 2nd but the funny thing is im too late to get the 4.15 bus so im sitting here wroting a newsletter when i have NOTHING TO SAY! When do I ever have anything to say you might say, ha ha! Thats funny isnt it?
Ooh, I just remembered a funny thing that happened a few weeks back in one of my History tutorials. I recall it because it was one of the rare times that I spoke to people in my class, and it turned out to be a rip- roarer of a chuckle!
We were (once again) discussing the French Revolution, a favourite topic of mine, not only because of the illicit and highly charged love affair I am having with the lecturer of this particular course, but because the course text is one of the few books I actually own, meaning of course that I peruse it frequently and in depth. (Hah!)
Anyway, our tutor, who believes we are all on the simple side, favours questions with easy and obvious answers and was pumping us for information on Louis XVI. She asked 'how did Louis become King of France?'
Not being as clever as she hoped, one of our number mumbled 'His father', which she was entirely content with until I, being the sharp wit that I am remarked- 'I'd say his mother had a bit to do with it!'
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hee hee hee hee hee!
How we all laughed!
Hopefully, you are now laughing too. It was my one moment of glory in college, I think you should be able to force a half-hearted giggle.
Meaning the possessing of quick insight. Mmmm. Good one that.
eg: The author of the newsletter was a perspicacious young lass.
The perspicacious friends of the author quickly purchased for her many large gifts, realising they had forgotten her birthday.
The world breaks everyone- and afterwards many are strong in the broken places.
Ernest Hemmingway
The world has broken me. More precisely, an old lady in a brown coat and a blue headscarf has broken me. I have reason to believe she was a private op working under the power of a sinister other party. No reason for this, just makes it sound more exciting and less dismal.
I caught the bus yesterday. From Drumcondra to Clonskeagh. The 11 it was. When I got on all the seats were full so I stepped smartly into the alcove where the exit door in positioned. An old lady sitting in the seat in front of me half turned to me and smiled. 'Would you like to sit down dear?' she asked pleasantly, offering to get up.
'Oh no thank you, I wont thanks!' I chattered equally pleasantly. She smiled again and turned away.
Then it hit me. Why did she offer me her seat? I know I was a bit worse for the wear owing to an over-indulgence the previous evening but she surely couldnt mistake me as old? She was old herself! And I didn't have a gammy leg or anything. I was slyly caluclating her age when I remembered the other section of society that one is obliged to offer one's seat to; pregnant people.
Gasping, I clutched the hand rail convulsevley- surely not! Did I really look pregnant? Maybe she had mistaken my hungover flush to be the happy glow of impending motherhood. Miserably I stood up straighter and sucked in my stomach. I was pregnant. Or looked it anyway.
Oh, I am broken. And pregnant. Apparantly.

Monday, February 11, 2002



Oops. fucked up. Put the 'falling- up- steps- in- front- of- lecturer' story in the wrong column, surely should have been in the lucy fucks up column? oh, well we all make mistakes! We're all human really, arent we? Well except God, obviously. And, maybe the pope, im not too clear on his role in all this.

You know the pope right, he knows the third secret of fatima and he wont tell anyone- why? that is so dumb, he just wants to go 'ah, told ya so' when someone bombs us all. Scummy bastard.
Oh shit. Have lost point. bugger, bugger bugger...focus- wait, never had point! thats ok then!


This week mostly i have been eating jif lemon, mostly.
- Tomas Breen,Fruit n Nut

The teachers will KILL ME! They say that corporal punishment is gone, but its a lie, they hit me! - Grainne Walsh, former teacher

Theres a whole lotta lovin' goin' on, in my heart!
- Six, Irish pop sensation

Once upon a time, there was a moocow going down a lane...
- Mr James Joyce, novelist

See? SEE? I need more, more, MORE!

Dear Auntie Lucy,
I have a problem; i keep giving my super- cool friend Lucy loads of vodka cos i want her to die so i can sell her organs on the black market. Not her liver obviously, that would be fucked from all the vodka. What is wrong with me?
Signed, A. Mullen

Dear A. Mullen,
Ooh. You are evil. Go away and live and Peru, and take all your vodka with you, we're god- fearing pioneers here in Ireland!

Dear Auntie Lucy,
Please help- my mum says you cant be my auntie cos shes got no sisters! Shes lying, right? Signed, anon.

Dear Mr A. Non,
Youre mother's a lying whore, dont believe a thing that bitch says- your dad aint even your father!

Dear Auntie Lucy,
I am fucked. i havent done an essay since before Christmas. I've three essays due this week. I've gone to two Art History lectures since the new year. Im gonna fail it for sure man, and the other subjects are pretty doubtful too. Please advise.
Signed, L. Aughney

Dear L. Aughney, Drop out of college and become an agony aunt- it worked for me.

This so captures my feelings for the week ahead- i have like sixteen- million essays to write and a hectic television schedule to follow.

My candle burns at both ends-
It will not last the night.
But ah my foes and o, my friends,
It gives a lovely light!
- Edna St Vincent Millay
This one i felt captured the romantic mood of the week, it being valentines 'week' according to the Centra radio ad- obviously everyone enjoys it so much it was required to extend it to a week.

I shall have your heart, if not by gift, my knife
should carve it out. I shall have your heart, your life.
- Stevie Smith


Could everyone please notice that i these letters are getting very dull and boring Not because i am dull and boring, but because i have stopped falling over things and dropping things.

In fact, bar the upsetting incident in History last Monday, I am becoming pretty damn stable and may even be considered a respectable and sane member of society.

Oh, except for my conker collection, which has started to sprout in my drawer. And my refusal to wash my favourite pair of socks.
And the increasingly frequent incidents where i choose to draw maps of the land of Middle- Earth from The Lord Of The Rings instead of writing essays.
And my irrational dislike of Americans.
And of Lorraine Keane.

Scratch the sane bit and i'm halfway there. And probably the respectable part- i sat on pizza on saturday night. And didnt realise it for ten minutes.

Tuesday, February 05, 2002




Lucy, you are sad, very sad- perhaps you need a hobby?
- Aoife Horan, friend

Personaly I have never been kneed in the groin for wearing glasses.
- Tomas Breen, very-soon-to-be-kneed-in-groin-person.

Thank you for making my sad life interesting.
- Celia O'Meara, overdue praise- giver
Hope I get into the quotes for this one!
- Sarah Brennan, Waterford person
I need quotes people- these suck, i need them more obscure and bizarre!
Dear Auntie Lucy,
My accounting teacher is mad. She tests us on stuff we havent done yet. What should i do? Signed, J. Kiely
Dear J. Kiely,
Wha? Do you actually go in to lectures? Bizarre!
Dear Auntie Lucy,
Help me- hiccup!- im an alco.. alco.. aclo- hiccup!- heavy drinker! I get sloshed EVERY weekend, (oops, fell over!) Hiccup! Plzzzze help, cant find... er, cant.. cant remember what i was looking for..
Signed, A. Mullen
Dear A. Mullen,
First of all, excessive drinking is not cool. Its really really cool! Whats the problem? Go out and get yourself a drink girl!
Dear Auntie Lucy,
Being a poor, impovrished UCC student[Hah!- ed.], I have difficulties in finding enough money to eat. Can you recommend any techniques to find dinner cheaply and fast.
Signed, L. Kelleher
Dear L. Kelleher,
God would not have given us mammies and daddies if He did not want us calling them the whole time to beg for money! So cop on! Be a man! (not too manly though, you dont want to get known as the butch lesbien of the campus)
'Mad Scone'
As coined by my pink haired roommate Joanne, this phrase is used to exclaim with affection upon the eccentricity and all- round insanity of a person of your acquaintence.
eg. Ah, ya mad scone ya! = my goodness, what a terrificly odd and bizarre wheaten bread product you are, upon my word!
The incident i am about to relate to you in fact happened on the way from a lecture, not to (there is a fundamental difference there people, think on it).
I was in my History lecture on Monday morning, approx 11.45 am, and was heading back to bed for a few hours of rest, after a mad fifty minutes of trying to wink at my lecturer while he rambled on about the French Revolution (or some topic of the historical kind- i wasnt really paying attention).
I had gathered up my folders and stuff and making my way to the door, when once again, the energetic celtic goddess that is atavistic in me decided to leap for the doorway. The celtic goddess however, failed to notice the three steps between my person and the door and down I fell. But not just once. Twice. While struggling to get up I stepped on the vinyl cover of my folder and fell over again.
Imagine, if you will, my horror when the slightly amused tones of my lecturer came from immediately behind me.
'Hmmmmm...are you all right? ' he chuckled.
Not being a girl to miss a gilded opportunity i spun round and flashing my dental work at him, laughing 'ha ha, yah sure!'
He did not however, renounce his wife and pledge himself to me at that moment (though I expect it any day now) instead choosing to nod solemnly and step around me. Leaving me to face the snotty and condescending sniggers from the rest of the lecture hall on the stairs behind me. I rushed immediately to the library where I sobbed and relieved my bewildered heart over a copy of 'portrait of the artist' until lunchtime.
[Incidentaly, lunchtime comes early in UCD- usually any time between 9.00 and noon.]
Those of you who attend to my schedule with care may have by now exclaimed- Hold on! its Tuesday evening, doesnt she normally go to creative writing on a tuesday??!!
Quite right my friend, but today i decided my sanity depended on my not going to creative writing. Anyway, I went to this mad talk on the Wild Geese by the History Society yesterday, so I figure thats enough extra- curricular activity for one week!
My good chum Donna pointed out that my juvenile writings were not constrained to God and spirituality (see : Cardboard box... in a field), that on occasion i toyed with advanced themes of life and death also. Unfortunately I cannot think of any of these poems, as much of the less than constructive critisism I recieved in national school has led me to block out those hurtful years.
Instead I reproduce here a clever little ditty which I penned a few years back- it is, I must point out, quite complex and difficult, so do not worry if you cannot understand it. You are just too stupid.
Hark, some lilies lie here!
What some ladies died here?
Pity such ladies died so!
Good, such lilies lie though.
Heartbreaking, isnt it?
Well, as the good poet Yeats says; I must arise and go now! And go to Inisfree! I too must arise and go now, not to Inisfree but to Merville where i must partake of some fine culinary snack (Rancheros)
Till next time (tomorrow prob, have no life to speak of)
Adios Amigo y amiga!
A bientot mes amies!
Slan go foill, Losers!

Tuesday, January 29, 2002



I have a small problem. Well its a large one actually- at least it is to me. In order to write this titilating and witty publication it has come to my attention that i must have something to say, be it inane or otherwise (otherwise you say??). This necessitates that i leap from my bed EVERY MORNING and go out into the world to meet people. Yes, thats right: people. This is a terrificly difficult task for me because the species PEOPLE are terribly rare in UCD. Large stinking assholes and whining gimps yes, people no. But i do try, because i hate to let my fans down.

This evening, for example, i went to a meeting of the ELS, which stand for the Extremly Loud Saps, oh no wait, its the English Literary Society. But they were extremly loud and sappish, so i belive i am succint (?) in my description. A meeting of the ELS involves a group of people ( on the whole arts students, im ashamed to say) sitting around writing creative pieces about random topics that the leader for the night chooses.
Typical creative topics include:
Lakes in Italy
The beauty of Horses

As you can see, a pretty random bunch. As are its members; you actually have to be an acredited asshole to get in the door- i swear, i had to don a pair of boots and a handbag to gain admittance!

That was my experience with 'people' for today, i might try again tomorrow if i'm up to it.

**********A*FUNNY*THING*HAPPENED*ON*ME*WAY*TO*A*LECTURE*********** ***new addition!***
This section will be devoted to the Hilaaaaaaaaarious mishaps and evnets that i witness on my journeys around campus. Today i will recount for you a humorous event (apparently) which took place at my History tutorial yesterday. Please bear in mind that i dont fully understand what happened here myself so dont try to follow it with too much diligence as you may become lost. I know i did.

Well now. i was sitting there in my History tutorial having a laugh (LIE) when your one (tutor person) asks us this :
'What did France become in November 1793?'
Being the enthusiastic and excitable (slightly) student that i am i shrieked up : 'A democracy!' Much to my surprise and horror the remainder of the class instead muttered sulkily: 'republic', and all then proceeded to laugh and snigger unpleasantly. Assholes.

What went on here, you may well wonder. I too wonder. What differentiates a democracy from a republic i query and why is the confusion of the two terms such a laughable matter?
Questions answered, answers questioned.

I'm sueing you for misquoting me.
-Grainne Walsh, friend?

I find your newsletter both educational and informative, thank you.
- Ann Marie Mullen, friend

Your newsletters give me the will to live that is all i can say.
- Donna Purcell, friend

Dearest Lucy, keep those wonderful words flowing from your river of knowledge.
- David Power, Trinity person (grrr)

I do love your little newsletter, it cheers me up no end when im down in shit hole Cork.
-Margaret O'Neill, Cork- dweller

If i had any quotes that would get me into your letters section, believe me I would not hesitate.
- Sarah Brennan, friend

***Closing down sale!***

I hereby announce the closure of this column. It has become obsolete since i found my spiritual self and adopted a centre of knowledge.
My motto has completly erradicated all need for such a column.


This column has been getting a bit of bad press recently (well, no actually it hasnt- no one gives a fuck about it) because of the controversy that surrounds it after a wee mistake in Sunday's issue. Im afraid that the word i advised to utilised in all converstaions for that day, was unbeknownst to me, a fake. it is in fact a ... dirty word! yes, it completly slipped my mind that the word 'bust' means a certain personal part of a womans body- i am sorry for distress caused to any delicate and polite readers of my letter. It will not happen again.

Word of the day- Meritocracy.
Meaning a system of reward where by level of reward is judged by merit. Interesting, eh? How many times can you use that one today?

***New addition***
Dear auntie Lucy,
My landlady is mad, she keeps making stuff up about me and my boyfriend! What should i do? Signed A. Mullen

Dear A. Mullen,
Kill the bitch, she had it coming.

Dear Auntie Lucy,
why dont you write back to my emails?
Signed M.O'Neill

Dear M.O'Neill,
Cos i dont love you, duh. NEXT QUESTION!

Dear Auntie Lucy,
Why are we here?
Signed S. Brennan

Dear S. Brennan,
Rack off to where ever you came from, you dag.

See Annie i told you it wasnt funny. The above was annies idea, blame her cos its stupid.


How many of you Holy Crossers out there remember the time i penned this little gem. at the time i was going through my sensitive phase (Short lived but, oh my, so intense!).

Card Board Box
by Lucy Aughney, aged eleven

Card board box
in a field
with Gods tears;

He weeps for lack of love.

Plastic Bag
on a bush
Blown by Gods great sighs.

He mourns the passing of humanity.

Mindblowing, eh? I was a creative and thoughtful individual even at that tender age.

Right. Im hungry now cos have been at asshole-society meeting all evening so think ill nip home and cook something- dont get excited by cooking ideas, it'll probably be toast.
Man cannot live on words alone, remember.

I leave you these parting words:
If you see me walking down the street,
and i start to cry each time we meet;
Walk on by, Walk on by!

OK? Just leave me alone you weirdos!

Sunday, January 27, 2002



Some people, i think do not know what they got till its gone. Some people, for instance, never EVER thank me for increasingly frequent electronic correspondence they recieve from me, even when i spend many hours typing said correspondence when i should be studying. Some people, who ring from Wales in the wee hours of the morning and with whom i converse for many moments on a windy chip- shop corner, neglect to mention how my witty and urbane emails have made a certain Welsh- educated Irish girl feel loved and special, when she is wintering out in some far flung recess of grotty Wales.

As i said, some people dont know what they got till its gone and i intend to remove any ungrateful and uncomplimentary subscribers from my address book unless i am duely praised and thanked. I have said my peace, i will say no more.

Today, my friends, is Sunday, the Lords day. Besides being a non attender of mass, i am an intensely spiritual person. I am often to be found staring out a window at God's wonderous nature and have been known to remark on moral and theological issues to my friends and families. Admittedly, these usually take the form of
"Sally [my sister], you look like a tramp, you cant wear a miniskirt to the shops!"
or perhaps
"Jesus Christ, who put that there?!"
but the point is that such thoughts are always with me.

Sunday is a day that i insist be kept sacred, and i always refrain from studying on a Sunday, instead to choosing to reflect on my thoughts and ponder my existence. The odd Sunday i spend enjoying a few quiet bevvies with some chums, but on the whole i withdraw from the grind of daily life. Or, la vie quotidienne as the French say.

Where am i going with this you might say? I too ask that same question. In all honesty, i have very little to say this evening and i just thought id start writing and see what came out. Very little of meaning, as it happens.

Thanks for mentioning me.
-Lynne Kirby, friend
Hee hee, you little minx you!
-Deirdre Treacy, friend
Lucy are you doing a BA in dossing and Burger Kings?
-Lorraine Cooney, friend
Well done for correctly representing the life of an arts student! Cant wait to see what f**k ups you do on Rag Week!
-Liz Kelleher, friend
No comment.
-Celia O'Meara, non-apreciative person
Ah, it has been a quiet week for this stalwart favourite! I did fall down a few steps when i was coming down the stairs from upstairs in a bus, but as my head banged into the wall i managed to fall backwards a little so no one saw me, and thus saving myself from certain mortification.
The worst thing i think was when i was getting on bus last Tuesday and in fumbling in my pocket for change, a storm of coins burst forth. (Ah, those damn Eurpoeans and their money!) What was horrifying however was that the oldest man in the entire world was standing beside me and rushed to pick them up for me, and then HELPED ME ON TO THE BUS!
***New addition!***
Today i have chosen the word 'bust'. I like it because it is more slimline than the overused 'burst' and a terrificly dramatic and shocking to use in a sentence. Also i think its a really cute and funny word, as i am myself.
eg: My head bust open.
The telly is busted.
Bust off with yourself, buster!
Nice, eh?
In the last issue of that luminious and brilliant (two words that mean pretty much the same thing; needless verbiage, its a great way to fill a page!) publication THE LUCY AUGHNEY NEWSLETTER, the editor wishes to apologise most profusely for an inaccuracy stated. In the survey of Dublin Burger King's it was written that the Burger King situated on lower Rathmines road was 'very nice' and equipped with 'clean toilets'. On closer inspection, this Burger King was proven to be a Mcdonalds, and as the editor does not hold with such establishments, she wishes to alter her review to say:
'Complete and utter s**t hole, and filthy scumhole toilets. Really, I think it very suspicious that the place masqueraded as a Burger King just to be mentioned in my newsletter. Most irresponsible of them.'
Thank you and good night.

Wednesday, January 23, 2002



Hey kids, 'tis i your odd friend! Who is she, nobody knows! How did she get my email address, nobody knows! How is she today, nobody cares!

But, as a matter of fact, i am unnaturally fine today! Its almost six pm and though ive been up interacting with my fellow humans since eleven this morning, i have not once fallen, tripped, dropped anything or snorted unbecomingly with laughter! what is you going on here, you may wonder! I too wonder my friend. i can only construe that the gods are setting me up for a major fuck up for the tonight or tomorrow, therefore balancing my seemingly sudden powers of capability and competence!

But do not fear! Tomorrow i am going to work and i ALWAYS do something stupid there! They have this little uneven flight of steps that is just crying out to be tripped on.

A new addition to my newsletter is my letters page. As i obviously dont recieve any letters (that would imply someone caring about my welfare), i am including here the comments i recieved from my 'friends' upon announcing the launch of this publication. I have of course fabricated many of the comments.

**************LETTERS TO THE EDITOR***************
A newsletter about you? god you are so up yourself.
Aoife Horan, friend
Lucy, you are sad.
Grainne Walsh, friend
Janine Whyte, flatmate
Savage! You are so mad!
Joanne Mitten, flatmate
Lucy, for Gods sake im the one paying for this f**king college course, do some f**king work!
Kate Murphy, mother
Lucy, you are so wise and clever, it is about time you shared some of your classic insights with the world.
Britney Spears, friend
Wow great idea man, you are so clever and shit.
Bertie Aherne, close friend
Thats 67c please.
Woman in shop, philistine

There you have it! the people have spoken! i dont think that bunch of gems can be contradicted now can they? Anyway, thats all from me, hopefully ill do something really really stupid on the way home and then i can reinstate the LUCY FUCKS UP column. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings- well not really. If you start enjoying them do tell me so i can charge you for them. over and out.

Monday, January 21, 2002



You are a proud subscriber to my brand new newsletter! whats terrific about it is that it is free! (for now) If you wish to unsubscribe, rack off! I do what i like! If you wish to sign up your friends, cop on! You dont have any friends!

Seeing as this is the first issue of my exciting new publication, i am planning on holding a launching party in my flat in merville in twenty minutes, with a wine and cheese reception. Cant make it? too bad, looks like its just me and the wine then! (the cheese cant make it either)

The content of this issue will be pretty slim as i spent the whole afternoon coming up with this idea so i cant be bothered to think of anything to write about. In fact besides this introduction, the only content will be the newly established LUCY FUCKS UP column, where i depict a humiliating yet hilarious event that occurred today.

******LUCY FUCKS UP******

Well now,
I was on my way in to the Computer block but i was coming at it from the side cos i really like to walk on the grass. theres three wide low steps in front of it, and being the comely and sprightly maiden that i am, i did a little skip and a leap to jump up two of them at once. I think we can all see whats coming.

Instead of landing safely on the top step as i intended to, i kind of fell backwards and in attempting to counter this problem i gave a twist forward, landing on my knees on the pavement. tiny little golden euros had spewed from my jacket pocket while i was airborne, and these now descended upon me in a glittering shower. two girls rushed to picked them up for me and proudly presented me with a handful of 5c and 10c pieces when i dragged my self from the ground.

'thanks' i muttered to which i recieved a shower of mocking giggles as my answer. Ashamed but not beaten i scurried inside where i came up with the terrific idea of telling someone, in fact i decided, why not everyone??

So here it is, my ramblings.
watch this space...

Tuesday, January 08, 2002



Well,here i am again, mainly because yes, i have no life. That is actually untrue. I have a life i just choose not to participate. I have been getting much feedback from you, my subscribers(what? i hear you mutter; i never subscribed she just started sending me this crap), and im glad to say the majority of it is positive. (well- slightly positive)

God Lucy, you can tell youre a f**king arts student anyway, youve too much free time on your hands!
Clare King, friend
Lucy, please, if you keep falling up stairs, TAKE THE LIFT!
Rachel Heutson, friend
Why the f**k do you never mention me in the newsletters?
Lynne Kirby, angry person

Ms Clare King also advised me to start a gossip column. However,i believe gossip to be the product of a malicious and petty mind, so i decline to accept this advice. I thought instead a news column would be fitting to raise the intellectual standard of the newsletter. After lenghty consideration i decided that the intellectual standard was a bit too high already for some of you dumbos out there, so instead i am starting a review column. Now. To the reviews, which are both intellectual and informative.


THis week i am reviewing burger king eating establishments in the urban Dublin area.

BURGER KING- Lower Rathmines road
An old favourite of mine, chock full of staff too foreign to yell 'hey you! toilets for customers only!' Havent eaten there very often, but the bathroom facilities are most excellent and clean- my only qualm would be that one of the cubicle doors are broken. In the ladies bathroom, obviously. I know nothing about the gents. They might not even have doors.

BURGER KING- Grafton St, North
The tops when it comes to Burger Kings! Only ate there once (food: cold, toilets:smelly), but on that occasion the lovely girl on the cash register SOLD me an EXTRA Lord of the rings toy! Needless to say, i was most touched. I have since stuck said toys to top of telly and they look most pleasant. For those of you that care, they are Arwen and Gandalf. I stuck a small plastic Marvin the Martian up as well, but since he did not appear in the lord of the rings film, i find it unnecessary to mention him here. Oh. just have.

BURGER KING- Grafton St, South
This place i did not like. After purchasing my two LOTR toys from the above establishment, i decided to buy some more. Realising my interest was bordering on an obsession, i went to a different BK further up the street, where they refused to sell them to me. They will not get the opportunity to take my money again. Well, seeing as i dont really like the food in Burger King it was rather silly to attempt to review them as i never eat there! Stupid me!

Well, enjoyable as that was for as all, this is where i get off. A word in parting, however- i got my photos from last Saturday night developped and be warned any of you that wandered by a drunken and wobbly me on that night- i probably have a badly angled, over -exposed shot to bear witness!

Also, to Lynne, my dearest, my reason for living- I would mention you more often but that would defeat the conceited, self- serving purpose of calling it the 'Lucy Aughney' newsletter- duh!