The Thieving Ghost of Harold's Cross

Myself and Tara have only 3 weeks in this new flat and the amount of shit that has mysteriously gone missing is getting quite freaky. The apartment is not that big so if something is lost, you should be able to find within ten minutes and you are talking about probably the best finder of things the world has ever seen, they don't call me Sherlock Olohan for nothing.

Object Number 1 - The first loss or what we like to call it, the first sign of paranormal activity in the gaf and I just want to let everyone know that I'm not having a laugh here, I didn't go to that movie because I knew exactly what would happen to me - It would scare the shit out of me! So the whole idea isn't exactly sitting well with me. But, anyway, the letter box keys, I made a point of asking the caretaker of our building, Mick, who is probably the best advertisement for non-smoking on this planet, could I get a copy of letter box keys. Ye know, right by the front door into the building each apartment has a corresponding letter box which you need a key to open so I thought it might be a good idea to get the key for seeing that I might get a letter or two. Mick obliged me and dropped them over the next day. 4 small keys on a ring. I went down tried them out, worked like a charm. I bring them back up to the flat, put them onto the table and that was the last they have been seen. All that we found were another completely useless set of old small keys on a key ring, they don't work. I got my hand stuck in the fucking letterbox yesterday trying to get out my new ATM card.

Object Number 2 - Something that I want to make very clear to everyone reading this, is that one of the things I spend my money on in this world is socks, in the last year I bought at least 20 packs of 4 from Dunnes, I'll prove it they are 3 euro. Now you would think as a person who is that dedicated to the warmth of his feet that the problem of no socks would very rarely arise. You would think this cunt has it covered, you would think that. Well, when I say since moving into this flat, I can safely say that my sock population has dropped in such an unreasonable fashion to a point that I have about five pairs. Where have they gone? Give them back you cunt.

Object Number 3 - Tara's mate Becky is studying Psychology in college and she asked myself and Tara to do this survey about couple who are living together, one for me in a big brown envelope and one for Tara in a big brown envelope with our names written in big lettering on the front. Now they were left on the table and when I say that is the last they were seen, I truly mean it. Myself and Tara turned the flat upside down for a full evening looking for them and as I said it's not a big gaf, you should be finding shit in about ten minutes. Neither of us would have thrown out 2 sealed envelopes with our names on it, there is just no way. We are not dickheads. We seriously have to find them.

Object Number 4 - This was this morning, Tara had given me her laser card to do a shop with yesterday and home I came with the bags of food, I then went on to make, without a shadow of a doubt, the greatest bolognaise sauce that the world has ever seen (James Early & Eva Bartley, I still want to organise a competition). Tara came home, I whipped her up a bowel and, of course, she adored it, my bro popped around for a bit of a chat and we later passed out. Cut to the next morning. 'Jaaaaccck, where is my caaaarrrd?' and then the search began. I was not letting this one go, I remember seeing the card when I was in the flat last night. Come on, Jack, do what your Da taught you all these years. Pick a corner and work your way out. Which is exactly what I did, an hour and a half later, I had made my way into my office, a place where I hadn't been in about 48 hours, there the card was at the bottom of a plastic bag that . . . . . Holy Shit, I just the biggest fuckin chill, I am scaring the shit out of myself, I have to stop writing. Here listen I’ll talk to youse later.