The Scrag – a daft monthly Zine – Patreon Relaunch

The Scrag is a daft zine.

It’s 20 pages of trite drivel and dreck that you can get delivered to your door or inbox every month.

To give an idea of what features, stories and scraps will fill the pages I’m sharing some pages from 2018’s limited run. Though this Patreon series will be ALL NEW NONSENSE!

The Technocrats may have plunged print media into a death spin but I for one still fondly remember what paper felt like. I miss the simple joy of turning a page, the risk of a paper cut or scanning your eyes to the end of a story to spoil it for yourself. Magazines were for lying on the sofa, sitting on the toilet or displaying to visitors on your coffee table. The Scrag can fill that gap that’s already been filled a thousand times over by the superphone in your pocket.

Head over to the Patreon site now to pick the Tier of support that best suits your belief system.

Scrag Supper – #04

My girlfriend was complaining that the thrill had gone from her life. And typical bird-brained me, I thought she was talking about the soppy wankers “The Thrills” that had blandly snook through the middle of the road and into the spotlight in the early 2000s. I was trying to relocate them to play a reunion but they were nowhere near either of the pubs in our estate so I stopped looking. And when I got home, surprise surprise, herself has left me. Some days you just wanna forget

All this talk about equality of work opportunities for women has got me going “wah?”. Why do they want to work their way through promotions when the tried and tested approach of old, sleeping your way to the top, still applies as men have all the jobs of power? The mind boggles

I saw Carol Vorderman is desperately flogging Life Insurance on daytime TV now. It’s quite sad that she made a career out of numbers and it was numbers that saw her get kicked out of the limelight. No matter what algorithm she could muster she was never going to have her age lower or her sexy higher than Rachel Riley’s

(Cont’d) …I mean I’m not in a job of power but I need to be given some motivation (female attention) for working hard. If it’s a meritocracy for meritocracy’s sake you can forget it

Why are all lunch baguettes cut from end to end but whenever I buy my favourite, a garlic butter baguette, it’s cut across a dozen times?

Elon Musk? Donald Tusk? Is it just me or is this -usk suffix in surnames of men in the news getting dangerously out of hand?

I had a go at watching the “Bollywood” channel last night. None of the people looked or spoke like me and it was turned off within seconds. I will be ringing Sky to have the channel blocked.

I was saddened to hear all the news come out about Wacko Jacko. I was shocked and decided to do my own research. I listened to his albums and hate to say it but the evidence is there, clear as day. He gloats in the song/ confession “Bad” that “your butt is mine”. Further research indicates that “butt” is what American kids say in reference to their arseholes. How were we that naive?

It’s a shame the Jews don’t eat pork. Rashers and sausages are always very cheap

The Rock? Emma Stone? Pebbles from The Flintstones? Is it just me or is there a geology craze going round?

They say “pink to make the boys wink” but when I see the pop thing P!nk on TV I close both eyes, cover my ears and scream until someone changes the channel.

That Bob Marley song about cricket would be a great song if it was sung by salamanders, small snakes, frogs, toads, rats, bats, shrews, mice and insect-eating birds

I see Jennifer Aniston is the face of Smart Water. What’s next? Ross the face of Smart Bread? Or Peebee the face of Smart Beans? Honestly, though water that’s crisp, clear, vapour distilled and re-mineralised with electrolytes is as good shite as anything else to shill

Keira Knightley? Tess Daly? Is it just me or are our celebrities’ surnames becoming time-sensitive?

I know from the bottom of my heart that comedian Jeff Dunham is not racist but to portray that, without a shadow of a doubt, he has to stop associating and cut all ties with Achmed the Dead Terrorist, Bubba J, José Jalapeño on a Stick, Melvin the Superhero Guy, Walter and of course Peanut

It’s sad to hear about that bad thing that happened. I couldn’t believe it. I mean it has to stop

Scrag Supper – #03

Every week we send out a delicious meal of Scrag, Chips and a Drink. All you gotta do is tell us why you deserve it with #ScragSupper

One morning, while I was still in bed, I heard the screams of someone being attacked. The next day I found out it was the Gym Class next door. But now I know that had it been an attempted murder I’d have stayed in bed. What a coward. Any chance of a supper?

I approached a girl in a pub and said she was a “Pig”. And before I could explain that it meant “Pretty Irish Girl” I was wearing her Malibu and Diet Coke. Surely I deserve a Scrag Supper.

To the lady who fell asleep on the plane and thought that a kid had stolen her Honey Nuts. It was me. I’d like her to get a scrag supper. And also to the kid that got an awful hiding from his Da.

To those fine folks in advertising. If it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t know what I like, who I was or what my life goals should be. They really aren’t paid enough in my opinion. Thanks guys.

I found the key to a better life. Just ask yourself: If you were to die tomorrow how would you wank today?

There’s a lot of talk now about the types of toys we should let kids play with. Should we have girls’ toys and boys’ toys? Well back in my day, we were too poor and I got neither and had to play with the dirt. Any chance of a bitta grub to treat me now?

I managed to use the jax in Brown Thomas without buying a single overpriced thing. Let me say it was the height of luxury but the deed was as pleasurable as if I’d shat in a bin. I’m glad of the experience but also glad that it hasn’t changed me.

I often think that we’re like robots. Or me anyway. Only instead of Duracell Batteries, I run on cans of budget beer. Beep Beep Lad-Bot! Any chance I could line me stomach?

I was really looking forward to Hallowe’en and all the dressing up parties until I remembered that I’ve no mates. Giz a birra Scrag.

To me Ma that I slagged off for watching Jeremy Kyle every day. But now years later I have also grown bored of all other media too except for good auld Jezza. So sorry. Save us a chip Ma.

I found out a way to feel hallowed when you’re low. Just have a few cans outside a church. All the auld wans will bless themselves as they pass you like you’re something of a saint.

To my wife who realized I plagiarized our vows. I stole all the words from an episode of Four Weddings Australia. I didn’t mean any of it, especially the “Love you unconditionally” bit. I have many conditions, like giving me a moment’s peace when Sky Sports News is on.

To Anthony McGuire the talent agent. I’ve never seen better tribute acts. You should all check out The Faux Fighters, Melting John and The Rolling Smokes.

I’d like to give a home-cooked meal to all of the socially malformed castoffs on Reddit. Maybe some warm wholesome food instead of the processed shite they do be eating might calm their rage and bitterness a bit.


I want to apologise to that Hen Party that was drinking outside a Pub in Temple Bar. I was in a bad mood. I shouldn’t have burst your cock balloons with my smoke. Have a plate on me.

Rosé Buds by Tiffany Swank ((S)exclusive extract)

Tiff Swank has got it all, only the universe hasn’t decided to give it all to her just yet. But she’s a fighter and she’ll work as hard as she can to get it. And by work she means being an absolute superstar and attending the best parties their are in Dublin City (southside obvs). If this opening chapter doesn’t get you racing to the shops to by the full book than you probably have a screw loose and most likely need a wash too.

Chapter 1
The Morning After

I don’t know how gay lads do it. I’ve enough trouble getting jizz out of my bed and hair after a nocturnal romp with ONE erupting cock. They’ve to clean up from two. And that’s at least. Most of them have a general admissions policy on their beds. Chat to any queer, jiggling his denim hot-pants-ed arse on a dance floor, and they’ll tell you that if they bring home just one lad they might as well as be wanking solo.

Himself from last night had bolted pretty much after our entwinement. And that’s fine with me. He was nothing special. I like big men. This was a boy. It’s like eating an egg when you really want a cooked chicken. But food is food and girl ya gotta eat.

I doubted there was anything in the fridge. I was supposed to do the shopping yesterday after work but being a wicked alco bitch I just went to Liza’s, my mate’s gaff, with three bottles of rosé. And bubbles destroy troubles. We changed into something less dull and zigzagged to the club, Bernardo’s. We’d been going there since our tits were big enough to impress the doormen. Bernardo’s is like a home for me. Some culchies would be all onion-breathed in exclaiming Croke Park their home. But for me and the girls, it’s Bernardo’s. Remember that show Cheers and they’d say the pub is where everybody knew your name. Well in Bernardo’s everyone knows my name, what I drink and for the half of them, what me minge and hole look like.

Liza is a beast of a woman. Don’t get me wrong she’s a total slut and an excellent pal but she’s built like a carnival strong man. I’ve seen her lift bar stools over her head and fling them at a gang of cowards that called her a cow. That’s a real woman, someone that can fight their own battles. Just a fyi, if you want to avoid a conflict with her just always buy an extra portion of chips “for the table”. But I love her to bits and pieces. And we’ve made a pact that if we’re both still single in ten years time we’ll les up as a pair a gash hounds. It was supposed to be a joke but she’s taking it seriously. She’ll sometimes not shower or shave and wear them caterpillar boots. Cool the jets hun, we’re not dykers yet.

Saturday mornings always made me feel like a tampon machine in the ladies that’d after been kicked to shit to ruffle the coins out of it. I felt spent and hollow. I rifled the bed for my phone, I wanted to text Liza to hear about the narrow rip of piss she brought home last night and guilt her to call over here with remedies and pizza. And what’s more, I wanna tell her all about the goss from last night. It’s Earth-Shattering! I don’t know much about politics or science but what I know about who is who in Dublin and this IS A GAME CHANGER! That cow will not want to miss this. No one would!

Available to Buy in Shops and Select Niteclubs Now

Formula Pun – #01

There’s been some Vroom-belivable puns speeding around the course this week.

Who is the best Italian actor to burn a CD? Robert de NERO

How do you drive out of a field of sheep? A ewe turn

What does Berlin singer Terri Nunn say to the wait staff when she’s on the Atkins diet? Take my bread away

What the difference between a bodybuilder and someone who won’t take the stairs up to the top floor? One lifts weights and the other waits for lifts

What’s a dog’s favourite whiskey? Jack Spaniels

How does a Rasta exercise? On a Dreadmill

What do you call a light-fingered funeral director that’s also a pirate? The Plunder-taker

What did Joe Goddard, Alexis Taylor, Al Doyle, Sarah Jones, Owen Clarke, Felix Martin, Grovesnor, Charles Hayward have for dinner? Hot Chips (they all were or are members of keyboard band Hot Chip)

If you listen to NPR while you sleep at night you’ll be WOKE in the morning

The Pits-Stop for Dirty Jokes

Did you hear about the poor prostitute, she was living Gland to Mouth

The Internet has more porn than you can shake your stick at.

Where can you get shoes for your dick? A Knob Cobblers

Scrag Supper #02

Every week we send out a delicious meal of Scrag, Chips and a Drink. All you gotta do is tell us why you deserve it with #ScragSupper

I love the symmetry of life. We’re brought into this world by storks and I just heard about a man up by the canal that passed out and was pecked to death by swans.

When will this “Craft Beer” nonsense end? Last year I was at a festival and found a half-full pint someone had left behind. I realised why they’d abandoned it. It tasted like warm piss. Artisan hops my hairy arse.

Guess what I found in my packet of peanut M & Ms? A bunch of air. I was absolutely livid.

Those wacky hippies are always giving out about the posh going on fox hunts. Don’t they get it? The posh have a bloodlust. Would the rather they kill the foxes or hunt us, poor people? Thought so.

I wish all these radicalised nutjob terrorists would just put down the guns and bombs and pick up the little pens on strings and vote every four or so years when we’re asked. It’s the only way we’ll ever make a change. That has been my Plea for Civility.

We’ve heard of “Too Posh to Wash” but in my home town, it’s more like Too Poor to Pay for Basic Provisions.

I found a unique way to add a bit of “fun” to the bedroom. I get in the bed upside down! It’d be some hoot for my girlfriend to come in and see a pair of feet on the pillow had she not left me years ago for my lack of ambition.

I wanna thank the woman on the bus last Thursday evening for sharing her bag of chips with me. I was starving and felt close to fainting. Oh, I’m sorry, she didn’t even have the basic decency to offer me one. I’m telling you it’s Dog Eat Dog out there not Man Eat Chips.

Have you heard about “Paternity Leave”? Why should my taxes pay for some Johnnie Dodger to get two weeks off to watch cartoons and gawp at his missus’ big tits as she nurses some brat? Whereas I’ve got to work every day like a criminal. My crime? Being repulsive-looking to women.

They say if you do a job you love you’ll never work a day in your life. Well, I broke both my legs when I jumped out the top window of a bus cause the conductor came up the stairs when I was seventeen and I’ve not had to work a day in my life. Where’s that in your sayings?

I was accused of having used bad language at work. I only swear when I’m angry or need an extra second to think of the fucking word.

Isn’t it about time we got HD displays on the Real Time bus display things? I mean it looks like it’s got the resolution on a tamagotchi. Do we really want to paint the image for tourists that we’re Paddy Whacking Paupers?

As a depressive, I find it insulting that cyclists in their Hi-Viz vests value their lives over mine.

Mark my words the next referendum for equality will be for those deviants that dress up as cartoon foxes and wank each other off. I pray I’ll be dead by then.

I’ve more than enough shite to be dealing with than this “politics” crap. Just tell me who to swear fealty to and let me get on with my day.

I wish those YouTubers would realise they could cut out a lot of “ado” if they stopped saying “without further ado” before every single video. Just open the bleeding box.

I think this gym “fad” needs to end. If you really wanna lose weight fast then get on the scales right after a massive shite.

They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away. But for me, the skyrocketing prices of GP visits keep me far from the medical centre.

I heard that we’ve taken more photos in the last 200 years than in the 200,000 years before that. These fucking millennial should be ashamed of themselves.

If I live until tomorrow it’ll be the longest I’ve ever been alive. And having a scrag feast would give me what I’m missing, a reason to live for tomorrow.

I think Shane Richie should have been the new Doctor Who. And I’m not saying that just cause I’m his agent. I’m saying it as his hungry wife.

Why do they always sell Chicken Kievs in twos when I live alone? Messed up maths madness.