BigSaltyDog

 The Great Misfits Fuel Protest There were two things Stg. Salty disliked intensely. Being overcharged for something. And being told there was nothing he could do about it. Unfortunately, fuel prices had managed to combine both. Salty stood in the middle of Misfit HQ, phone in hand, studying the latest figures while the rest of the gang went about their business. Sarah was reading through some paperwork. Susan was checking something on her laptop. Lucy was making coffee. Winkz was scrolling through the morning news. Dinkz was sitting comfortably in an armchair, looking far too amused by Salty's expression. Quags was having a discussion with Ye Olde Large Lad about whether driving economically actually made a noticeable difference over a month. McFinleyyy was doing what McFinleyyy did best: eating a sandwich while contributing occasional observations to the conversation. Whizzley was standing at the window. "I've got a feeling," he said, "that Salty is about to an...

The Aftermath of McFinleyyy at the Westlife Concert There are concerts. There are great concerts. And then there was McFinleyyy at the Westlife concert. By the following morning, nobody in the Misfits was quite sure what had happened. There were several theories. One suggested McFinleyyy had spent three hours standing up, singing every word and waving his arms around like he was directing traffic. Another claimed he had attempted to join Westlife on stage. Ye Olde Large Lad insisted he'd seen McFinleyyy emotionally pointing towards the heavens during Flying Without Wings. Dinkz had a different theory. "He was dancing." There was a long silence. "McFinleyyy?" "Yes." "Actually dancing?" "Apparently." Everyone looked at one another. This was serious. --- McFinleyyy eventually arrived back at Salty's place looking like a man who had just returned from an expedition to the Arctic. His hair was all over the place. His coat was hanging...

  🎤 McFinleyyy Goes West — A Night With Westlife at the 3Arena There are nights out in Dublin that you remember for all the right reasons. Then there are nights out that you remember because something went completely sideways. And then there are nights when McFinleyyy is involved. Tonight was definitely the third one. The plan sounded simple enough. Head into Dublin. Get to the 3Arena. Watch Westlife. Enjoy a few hours of great music. Come home. Simple. Easy. Straightforward. So obviously, there was absolutely no chance of it going according to plan. Tonight was Westlife night, and McFinleyyy had decided that he was going. Not only was he going, but he had apparently been preparing for the occasion all day. Nobody knew exactly what that preparation involved. There were rumours of several outfit changes. There was definitely too much aftershave. And at one stage somebody reported seeing McFinleyyy standing in front of a mirror practising what he described as his "Westlife face....

  🇮🇪🎖️ 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 ...