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The Marriage Act 2015 upholds the 34th Amendment of the Constitution, namely that it now legally permissible for two people to marry without distinction as to their sex.
This was a revolutionary step taken to end discrimination in Ireland, and give same sex couples the exact same rights as straight couples. We can see from this that Ireland is a country that embraces change, in the knowledge that love is limitless.
Indeed, I believe an integral part of an individual’s fundamental rights is having the choice to marry whomever or whatever they please. For that reason I believe a further amendment to the marriage Act is urgently needed. I wholeheartedly believe we should remove “prohibited relationships”, section completely from the Marriage Act.
This would mean that potential couples would not be constrained and constricted by societal norms, nor would they be bound by strict rules regarding gender, familial relationships or species.
Folks, the heart-warming story I wish to renege upon you will both enlighten you, and transform your perception of what a loving relationship consists of. It will also verify my point that true love is unlimited and should retain legal recognition, regardless of its form.
It was February 14th and I was alone. I reflected pensively upon my predicament. The impending doom that surely lay ahead; The Workman’s Club. A hipster haven where nobody was constrained by gender stereotyping and the bathrooms were probably unisex. I pictured myself skulking in the corner. Spectacles steamed up, lost in a sea of flannel… My friend was in peril and would surely need a clubber companion.
My jewellery was suggestive of a fun care free kind of gal. The bigger the hoop the bigger the ho, it was a scientifically proven fact. It all felt so false. Valentine’s day was soon approaching and my appetite increasing. As the crowd dwindled I took flight, leaving my friend to fend for herself. I had to succumb to the erotic urges that had become overwhelming. After a short sweaty journey, I spotted a luminous light in the far distance. “The New Mandarin”, known for the best oriental cuisine in all of Marino. I lurked in seductively.
“One spice bag please, without the chicken wings”.
I was a recovering vegetarian and traumatised from viewing Chicken Run at an early age, so I was fussy about such things. However, it is important to note that you do not choose the spice bag. The spice bag chooses you.
I tiptoed up the stairs, my heart thumping in trepidation. The animalistic urges overcame me. I tore off my lover’s brown paper covering, apologising profusely for my lack of control. Fumbling in the darkness I savoured every moment, every mouthful. Groaning in ecstasy we reached the privacy of my bedroom. I closed the door not wanting my elderly housemates to witness the filthy heinous act that was to follow.
I ripped off the remaining wrapper like an over eager pass the parcel participant. I licked each spicy shredded piece individually, playing with the chicken balls, smearing ketchup all over the place, squirting sweet chilli like there was no tomorrow. Pleasure laced with pain.
I climaxed towards the end of the bag and lay there prickling with Slimming World shame.
I was clearly a sinner.
It was a Valentine’s day fling.
An exotic escapade.
A spice bag story.
Read more from The Honorary Hunzo HERE
Amazing looking spice bag pic from here