On Becoming A Racist

I've decided to become a racist and it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm sitting in an internet cafe a few yards up from Checkpoint Charlie. After all, what could you dislike about the Germans? They're peaceful and organised and despite their reputation there are some who have a sense of humour. Using public transport is a dream; there's just not going to be a flaming arguement or a traveller family with the father praying out loud while the daughter listens to music blaring from her mobile phone. There are no hungover scangers bringing chips and burgers on board to smell out the carraige and it's quite uncommon for a bunch of youngsters to start their drinking binge on the train. So no, Germans are fine. I also couldn't fault the Africans. I recently took the bus from Galway to Dublin where I had to move seats to get away from the drunk Irishman beside me as he pissed his pants and it started to run across to my seat. I ended up beside a guy from the Congo. I got his life story and half his lunch. Then I realised a woman who I know from Cameroon was two seats behind me. She introduced me to another Camaroon guy who lives in Westport. He told me about what a wonderful place it was and what a great view he has from the window of the tiny room he shares with four other asylum seekers. I have a thing for positive people and he oozed it. His girlfriend was from the West Indies. She didn't talk much but I decided not to be racist against people from there purely on the basis of how pretty she was.
Somewhere between arriving in Dublin and getting to the airport, a strung out scanger tried to rob my bag, deterred only by me giving him a proper kick in the balls and then hitting his head with said bag.
So after a series of bad experiences with the Irish, ranging from the above mentioned to the pathetic hen and stag parties that have destroyed Galway, the politicians who told us lies bigger than an ageing prostitutes cunt and the poor builders wives who have to trade in their SUV's for Toyota Carollas.
The Irish are a ridiculous shower of  drunk freeloading wannabe anythings who turned their crock-a-gold into piss that doesn't even have a pot to piss in. All of them, and to be a proper racist I'll end this blog with the mandatory line of every racist I've ever come across:

I'm not a racist, but...