BigSaltyDog

  🇮🇪🎖️ YE OLDE LARGE LAD GETS PROMOTED From Legendary Misfit to Second-in-Command There are moments in every military organisation when a commanding officer has to stop, look around, take a deep breath and ask himself one very important question. “Who on earth can I trust with this?” For Stg. Salty, the answer had become increasingly obvious. Ye Olde Large Lad. It was not necessarily an obvious answer to everyone else. In fact, several members of the Salty Gang nearly fell off their chairs when Stg. Salty made the announcement. But after everything Ye Olde Large Lad had been through, everything he had survived, and every completely ridiculous military operation he had somehow managed to return from, Stg. Salty had finally decided that the time had come. Ye Olde Large Lad was getting promoted. Not just a little promotion. Not a ceremonial promotion. Not one of those promotions where someone gets an impressive-looking badge and then spends the next six months wondering what they a...

  🏍️ TWO ABSOLUTE BRATS ON SCRAMBLERS TURN THE M50 INTO THEIR OWN STUNT SHOW BigSaltyDog Exclusive. The M50 Had Seen Some Things. But Yesterday Was Something Else. There are certain things you expect to see when driving around Dublin. Traffic. Traffic jams. Someone indicating approximately three business days after changing lanes. A taxi driver who appears to have developed a personal hatred of lane discipline. A van parked somewhere it absolutely should not be parked. And, if you are particularly unlucky, someone doing 47 km/h in the outside lane while apparently contemplating the meaning of life. What you do not necessarily expect to see is two absolute brats on scrambler bikes treating the M50 like their own personal stunt arena. But that is precisely what happened yesterday. And Stg. Salty happened to be there to witness the madness. The two lads appeared on scramblers and immediately looked like they had decided that the normal rules of motorway motoring were simply suggestio...

  WHIZZLEY — THE RUNNING MAN Whizzley Says He'll Give The Flash a Run for His Money There are certain moments in life when a man should stop, think carefully, and ask himself: “Is this actually a good idea?” Whizzley had never experienced such a moment. He was standing in the middle of the BigSaltyDog headquarters wearing running shorts, a pair of battered trainers, a sweatband and sunglasses. Nobody knew why he was wearing sunglasses. It was raining. Sideways. Stg. Salty looked through the office window. “What's he doing?” Govna looked up from his coffee. “I believe he's training.” “For what?” Govna shrugged. “Apparently he's going to race The Flash.” There was a long silence. Salty slowly put his coffee down. “Whizzley?” “Yes.” “Against The Flash?” “Yes.” “DC Comics Flash?” “Yes.” “Barry Allen?” “That's the one.” Salty stared through the window. Whizzley was now stretching. He put one leg up on a park bench. Then the other. Then he attempted to touch his toes. He ...

 🇪🇸🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 STG. SALTY AND GOVNA The Scottish Lasses The South of Spain had already provided Stg. Salty and Govna with sunshine, cold drinks, questionable decisions and several stories that probably shouldn't be repeated at breakfast. But neither man expected their next adventure to involve two Scottish ladies from Edinburgh. It was late afternoon when Salty and Govna were wandering along the promenade, enjoying the sunshine and discussing the important matters of life. "Another drink?" asked Govna. "Obviously," said Salty. "We're conducting research." "Research into what?" "How many cold drinks a man can have before he starts speaking Spanish." Govna nodded seriously. "Important work." They had barely walked another fifty yards when they noticed two ladies sitting outside a bar. Both looked as though they were having a great time, laughing and chatting over their drinks. "Scottish," said Govna. Salty...

  🍻 THE GOVNA STORY TIME 🛒 Clean-Up Required on Aisle 9 All credit goes to the Govna for this one There are certain places in life where you expect to meet interesting people. A pub. A concert. A wedding. Possibly a nightclub at two in the morning when everyone suddenly becomes convinced they're best friends. But the Govna? He had discovered another location. The local Tesco. And apparently, it wasn't just the reduced chicken, suspiciously cheap biscuits and meal deals that were attracting his attention. There were ladies. Nice ladies. Very nice ladies. And the Govna had started noticing them. Now, before anybody gets the wrong idea, the Govna wasn't the sort of man who went wandering around supermarkets causing trouble. At least, that's what he told himself. He was simply a man going about his business. A man with a shopping list. A man with purpose. A man who occasionally forgot what he was doing when a particularly attractive woman walked past. It had happened befo...

  🍻 THE GOVNA, DANNY BOY & THE FIRST-DATE DISASTER Stg. Salty and the Misfits — A Night Out in Dublin’s Fair City There are nights in Dublin that begin with a plan. Then there are nights involving Stg. Salty and the Misfits. Those nights don't have plans. They have incidents. And on this particular evening, the Govna and Danny Boy had decided they were going into Dublin for a concert. The music was supposed to be the main event. Oasis. Suede. The Manic Street Preachers. A glorious evening of guitars, nostalgia, questionable dancing and enough beer to make the average person's knees start negotiating with their brain. But nobody had accounted for the arrival of the Misfits. The Govna was already in Dublin when Danny Boy arrived. "Where are the lads?" Danny asked. The Govna looked at him. "Which lads?" "You know." "That's not an answer." "The Misfits." The Govna sighed. "They're probably already in a pub." D...