Captain Purplehead

For the past number of years, I’ve been ranting on the high seas on all manner of tripe. I’ve left it here to be perused at will by any passing landlubber. In the early days, I used to try to post every week, then it became sporadic at best. Recently, I’ve not really been paying attention to it at all. It’s not that I think this is an important blog site, as it’s clearly not, but I have people who regularly check in and I must apologise for the lack of interest I’ve shown in this blog over the past number of years. I’ll leave it open until the end of Jan and then it shall be erased. Gone. Dead. It will be an ex-blog.
It is not just my lack of interest but the alarming number of these moronic spammers trying to promote everything from Vacuum cleaner repair to tranny videos. I’m getting upwards of 50 user registrations a day from these morons and, whilst it was funny editing those comments but I’ve tired of them. They have been filling up my email with shite and I have better things to be doing with myself than this online housekeeping.
It is for this reason that I shall scupper the Thirsty Kipper and consign this blog to ol Davey Jones’s locker. For those who have inexplicably remained loyal to this load of bollox, I will not do this until the end of January but, at that time, it will cease to be. It will be a late blog. Gone to join the choir eternal.

I’ve often spoken about the talent that resides in the much maligned city of Limerick and, although it is something that has been criminally overlooked by industry people, it is something that is a constant comfort to this aging pirate. If any of you visit Limerick, you’ll see it for yourselves if you go to places like Dolan’s, Cobblestone Joes, The Blind Pig, Bourke’s and Nancy Blakes. You may be lucky enough to see people like Dave Keary, Siobhán O’Brien, Steve Ryan, Damien Drea, Brendan Markham or many of the other top class musicians in town. I’ve stopped listing them because this post would be way too long if I was to mention everyone and I want to make this as short as possible.
I’ve often wondered how somebody with an abundance of very real talent remains content when they see people with little or no talent making it while they’re bypassed. I’m sure, at some point, they must say to themselves, ‘why do I fucking bother?’
The answer to this question is that it is who they are. Yes, it may seem cheesy, coming from this cynical and normally profane pirate, but it’s true. If John Lennon had never made it, he would probably still be writing and performing songs in his local.
You’re probably wondering what the fuck this post is about but it is about one man in particular who has a talent that, in a world with any semblance of justice, would see him become a superstar. A man who has been writing great songs for decades and who has been an amazing musician – probably from when he was nothing but a notion. He is also someone who has always been an inspiration to me, not just for his musical talent, but because of the man he is. The term gentleman is used far too often but he is the very definition of it. I’m writing this because, all too often, we write and say things about people after they die and not enough while they’re still with us and still producing brilliant music. Eamonn Hehir is the man in question. I don’t know a hell of a lot about his career but, at a time when young musicians feared the coolness of the more established and respected musicians, Eamonn was always approachable and always greeted me with a smile, a joke and a hug. A brilliant frontman, songwriter and musician but always a gentleman and always willing to give advice or simply his company to those of us who looked up to him – and still do. He probably wouldn’t thank me for saying this but he is one of those guys who is a gentle soul.
I’m a shit writer and I didn’t do too well musically either – well, I am a pirate - and I don’t want this to sound like a love letter to a hero. I simply want to convey the joy that has been brought into my life by Eamonn’s music and the few occasions that I’ve been lucky enough to have a pint with him. From the exceptional band Toucandance to his solo work, he has a back catalogue of great songs that anyone would be proud of. A true and genuine talent.
Eamonn is launching his album, The Flag Listeners, on the 17th of November in Dolan’s Warehouse in Limerick and, if you can, I heartily urge you to go and see him. Don’t take my word for hit. This first song is about the late Des O’Dwyer, another hero I’m glad I met, who was Eamonn’s long time bandmate and friend.

Here’s another one. Simply beautiful songwriting. He makes it look easy but few can write with such ferocious gentleness and passion.

And another one.

Click here for Downtown by Eamonn Hehir

And finally, if you click here you’ll get all the information you need to book tickets to see his album launch.

In Ireland, it’s perfectly legal to fall out of a pub at twelve in the afternoon, absolutely bolloxed from drink. It’s frowned upon, but it’s absolutely legal. In fact, you can sit outside a pub, spouting profanities at random passersby, whilst in your cups, and there’s very little anyone can do about it… legally. It is, however illegal to have a few sociable night time pints while listening to live music at 2am.
‘Ok, we all know that, Cap’n. What’s the fucking point?’
Ok, it’s ok to fall around drunk while kids are still legally allowed to walk home from school or just be in our view but it’s absolutely verboten, to have an extra couple of pints after a gig!
Frankly, it’s fucking ridiculous! It makes no sense whatsoever. The idea is to allow each bar to trade for 12 hours per day, as long as the cease serving at 4am. It would solve so much. Yes, there’s a drink problem in this country but it should not prohibit sense! It should not be a restriction of trade.
In the “boom” years, it wasn’t a problem because there were many departments that did nothing. Regulatory bodies who spent their time going for elevenses and passing the time on Bebo. Some even went on extended leave so they could play golf more often. It didn’t matter because we were rich beyond our wildest dreams. You could take stress leave from your job as a regulator - presumably because you were bored from having nothing to do - and still qualify for a mortgage you couldn’t afford. In fact, because you worked for the government, you could phone in a mortgage request.
The problem was, they never really had any idea what they were employed to do. “Well, my father is a councillor/guard/TD/banker/property developer and I never really had to work so he/she/it got me this job and its one handy fucking number”. And that’s fine; they’re wanking to pictures of Princess Lea while we’re paying their wages but not being over-charged. Happy fucking days! Have a nice, unrewarding life and free valium for your retirement, you pointless fucker.
Suddenly there’s a recession. All the captains of industry have been found out to be really scratching their own privates. We’re fucked, through greed and incompetence and a slavish devotion to cloud people and fear. “Bollox! We’re going to have to justify our handy numbers, especially now that our fathers/brothers/sisters/aunts/uncles/grandparents are completely broke and under investigation!”
So what do these fucking, knuckle-dragging fucking stupid fucking moronic wankers do? They become pedantic. They don’t understand subtlety and the idea of a judgement call. They start raiding restaurants, pubs, shops and any other business they can claim travel expenses for walking to and they start closing them down. Yep, let’s regulate ourselves into deeper shit. Let’s fucking restrict revenue to the extent that we can put small businesses out of business. “Your kitchen is 5 centimetres too small. You will either have to pay to extend it, or close down”. Never mind MacDonalds who have perfectly appointed kitchens but no skilled staff!
“Me fahder was a gard, me mother was a gard and all de wans before them were gards and I’m here to tell you, I’m trying to make an oul name for meself before I get a plum job in Ballyfuckmesister and retire on a King’s ransom. Now, you miscreants are here having a pint, listening to a bit of live music. If ye don’t feck off out of it, I’ll arrest the lot of ye”
Fucking pond life!
Here’s the thing. I don’t blame them. They are too fucking utterly stupid and beholden to their culture of nepotism to ever get the point. These people are fucking morons. These people are utterly useless. They are the people who put people out of homes but give rapists and murders suspended sentences. Yes; this is Ireland, where 174 people served custodial sentences last year for default on loan and mortgage payments because of the incompetence and greed of our government, whose pensions we are still paying, and 4 rapists got suspended sentences. No time served for ruining someone’s life but a few weeks in prison for being foolish enough to buy into the lies that were told to us by our government. No, I don’t blame them. I don’t blame these people at all. They don’t understand the simple tenets of decency. They’re idiots.
So what is pissing me off at the moment? Well, the businesses that made huge profits in the boom, with inflated prices and admission fees, are now reporting new businesses to the idiotic regulatory bodies who are, in turn, quite thankful for the tip off, because they never would’ve been able to even form the idea of an investigation themselves. They aren’t reporting them for harbouring criminals. They aren’t reporting them for being troublesome. They are reporting them for being in direct competition. If they shared the wealth and said, “Let’s form an alliance, where we can provide proper entertainment but never clash with each other”, they would be fucking gifted. It would work. It would ensure a balance of trade, while providing a balanced variety of entertainment, where each venue could promote the idea. The main thing here is that, there would be trade.
The current template is destined to be temporary because Ireland will eventually eat itself through moronic greed. We don’t need a revolution as much as we need revolutionary thinking and behaviour. In all honesty, if we were to have a revolution tomorrow, there would be too many morons shooting off in too many different directions to make it valid.
STOP!!!! Think about the fact that you’re an idiot and try and change that. Just try and change the fact that you’re a fucking idiot. It all starts with acceptance.
Ireland is a stupid fucking country. Utterly stupid, with very little to recommend itself.
To finish, here’s one of my favourite songs.

Football is a passion of mine. I call it football because that is its name. It is NOT soccer. The American called it soccer so as not to get it confused with American Football, which predominantly involves the hands. It also shouldn’t be confused with our own Gaelic Bogball. It is football. It was conceived in England and, perfected in South America and processed to its strategic best in Holland. I love its drama, its passion, its artistry and its ability to stun even its harshest critics into a state of awe. Most of the people I know prefer rugby or hurling and, yes, they are both great sports but I just don’t think there is ever going to be the same level of close control skills in any other team sport. Of course, I’m going to get the usual, “ah fuck off, Cap’n. It’s a sissy’s sport” bullshit from people who only look at those professional footballers who give Oscar winning performances when a member of the opposition breathes on them but that is one small and unfortunate facet of the modern game. There is still much beauty to be derived.

People may point the finger at the likes of Christiano Ronaldo or Rivaldo as being drama-queens and forever miss the point because, if you watch those players and witness the utter skill they’ve developed, it really is something to behold even if they’re both wankers who roll around on the ground too much. No true football fan enjoys that shit and we’re not all thugs either so kindly stop generalising when you’re talking about football fans. The game has too often been marred by a small proportion of its supporters. Anyone who has taken the time to watch it, can never call it a shit sport. It’s simply magnificent.
Having said all that, however, it has seen better days. In fact, I think we’ve already seen the best of football because it is a sport truly in decline. The reason for this is not that there is more diving in the game. If anything, there is less these days. It’s not because of the now occasional spate of violence. It is in decline because the money to be made in the game has gone to epic proportions and the footballers themselves are mercenaries who never know when enough is enough.

Yesterday the Arsenal captain, Robin Van Persie, made a statement to the fans that he was not renewing his contract because he didn’t believe the club’s ambitions matched his own. This is, of course, absolute bullshit. He also stated that he is not motivated by money. Easily said when you have just turned down a £130,000.00 per week contract, along with various other sweeteners. Now, before you go thinking, “wait, he turned it down. That must mean he’s not motivated by money.” No, he knows he’ll be offered upwards of £200,000.00 per week at City, Utd, Juventus or Paris Saint Germain. Maybe even Chelsea but surely he wouldn’t go to another London club… would he?
My point here is that footballers are stupid fucking people. Not financially stupid, just generally stupid. The best players have been coveted since a very young age and are, by and large, blinded to reality. We won’t see the likes of Zidane, Zico, Maradonna, Messi, Ronaldo, Pele, and all the other true greats after a while because the richest clubs buy the best players so their youth players seldom get a chance.
This is in the face of clubs who actually try to do something to save football. Clubs like Arsenal, Southampton, Villa, Everton, Utd and, of course, Barcelona are famed for their academies but they are a dying breed. Arsenal, the team Van Persie accuses of having no ambition, have managed to build a new stadium and maintain consistent Champions League football by staying in the top four of the Premier League without lashing out anywhere near the kind of money and wages that the teams around them do. They also consistently invest in developing youth and this wanker accuses them of having no ambition? If anything they are the most ambitious club in the world because they seek to play the right kind of football within realistic financial constraints. What Van Persie actually means is, they don’t have enough money for his liking.
Man City bought the league last year and very nearly blew it anyway. That same season Arsenal, decimated by departures of the likes of Fabregas and Nasri - built a sold midfield, had an unbelievably shaky start to the season but still managed a third placed finish without breaking the bank or their financial rules. One could argue that their achievement in finishing third dwarfs City’s purchase of the league, but that’s another debate. Van Persie was a huge part in that push for third and, in doing so, added significantly to his value. It has been his best season in football because he’s normally injured. He is now almost 29 and past his best as a player and he is looking for one final big payday. I don’t blame him for that but why come out and publically humiliate the club that he claims to love and who made him the player he is? Well, because he’s stupid.
Let me make this clear; I am not an Arsenal supporter. I admire them a lot but I’m a fan of a different club. A club much lower down the food chain. but my point holds true. Very few footballers should be allowed to speak in public. Stewart Downing, when asked about his Aston Villa future at the end of April 2011, said, “I’m perfectly happy at this club. I love the fans and the staff and I will be a Villa player even if we are relegated. They stuck with me and supported me through my injury and I feel I owe them”.
I loved him for that comment. I loved him right up until the day the transfer window opened, six weeks later, and Liverpool came sniffing. Suddenly he is handing in a tranfer request at Villa and is saying, “I got into football to win things and I just don’t feel that’s going to happen at Villa”. Stewart Downing went to Liverpool for 20 million, scored no goals and assisted in the scoring of no goals. Stewart Downing is an idiot.
Christiano Ronaldo, when angling for a move from Utd to Real accused the Utd Hierarchy of keeping him as a slave. Yeah, Christiano; a slave on 180K per week. Christiano Ronaldo is an extremely gifited tosser.
Rangers have now been thrown out of the Scottish Premier League, meaning that that league is now utterly pointless. Man City have gotten their way around FIFA’s financial fair play rules and will continue to do so. Football will start to dwindle because there will be no youth infrastructure and that is simply unsustainable.
We have just seen the end of an enjoyable Euro 2012 tournament and it proves, yet again, that the Spanish and German models work best. Yes, the Italians beat the Germans in the semi final but you have to assume that, if the aging - but sublime - Andrea Pirlo hadn’t been involved, they wouldn’t have done. I will even venture to opine that, had that tie been played over two legs, the Germans would’ve gone through. German domestic football is coming back also.
Money will eventually destroy everything. It has destroyed music, movies and sport and it will destroy everything it is allowed to take over. I still love football but it is becoming a relationship that is more akin to a couple that sometimes acknowledge each other with affection. Those acknowledgements become rarer and rarer with every passing football season. I will leave you with the best football song ever written.

Ok, I’m going to get it in the neck for this but all I ask is that you read and get the point of this post. If you gloss over this and miss the point, I will exercise my right to call you a blithering moron. Ok, so you’ve been warned so I have prefaced this enough.
Right, I will be the first to admit that there are some great D.Js out there who are both talented, intelligent and musical. This post is NOT about my hatred of D.Js. Indeed, in our great City of Limerick, there are a few whose gigs I like attending. People like John Greenwood, Phil Wade and Paul Tarpy make an effort to be original and different and show an aptitude and understanding of music. No problem with those guys, and I’m sure I’ve left loads out. My problem is not even with the proliferation of D.Js going around the place. No, my problem is with the attitudes of some of these fuckers.
Look, just because you’re outgoing, moody, thin, want to be a part of the artistic community and own a laptop does not qualify you to be a D.J. Yeah, you might get a lot of your mates to the pub to listen to you mix Beyonce with Stevie Wonder but that doesn’t mean you’re any good. If you don’t understand music, you’ve no business trying to play a part in any musical genre. And, should you meet any actual musicians whilst bluffing an apathetic public, you should pay them some respect and not look down your fucking bony, fucking nose at them simply because you believe you, and only you, are privy to the secret of the perfect mix. Ok, if it’s someone pretending to be a musician but really just plays cheesy covers, accompanied by a rack of midi files, then say what you want to them but always remember, you’re no better than those fuckers.
These fucking wannabe D.Js just love to be aloof and utterly obnoxious because they weren’t silly enough to actually learn how to play an instrument. Perish the thought that they’d even write a piece of music. Nah, they’ll just download some free software and mix other peoples music and call it fucking art. Now, this is where it gets a little confusing because I’m not saying that good D.Js are incapable of being artistic. Indeed, I’ve heard some mixes of old 20’s music, given a more expansive beat, mixed with Led Zepplin and thought, “fuck me, that was fucking inspired”. It is a medium that can be extremely creative and artistic but, unfortunately, all too often isn’t. I’ve no real problem with the stuff that isn’t all that creative. My problem resides with the attitude that accompanies some of these fuckers.
Artistic people are mostly generous people, who never look down their noses at anyone. In fact, the best artists, musically or otherwise, never feel that they’ve reached a stage where they’ve nothing to learn or prove. They will look at people that may not be as proficient as they are and still see something that they can learn.
Look, any more of this and I’ll end up repeating myself. Just think of this. You may have a fucking great taste in music. You may want to be cooler than the coolest person you’ve ever met. You may think the world owes you a fucking favour and some adulation, but you’re wrong. You are owed nothing. If you haven’t invested the time to, at the very least, understand music, then don’t fucking perform in public and act like you’ve got it all cracked. I’m going to say this and I’m going to get castigated for it but, in my experience, most D.Js are fucking bluffers. Stop looking down at people who actually went to the trouble of learning an instrument! You don’t have to like what they do and they don’t have to like what you do. It’s a short fucking life. Try to spend five seconds of it with your heads removed from your own fucking arses!
In the meantime, if you want to see some real fucking D.Js, check out Dr John’s on Thomas Street in Limerick or Mickey’s in Augustinian Lane. There, nuff said.

Oh don’t break out the ticker tape and bunting yet, there’s life in the ol Cap’n yet. No, this post is about the ridiculous trade restriction that is closing time.
If you’re going to go on about irresponsible drinking or alcoholism, you’re reading the wrong post. If you live in a country where there is no closing time, you might find this of interest anyway.
Let me start by saying that, here in Limerick, our local authority is pretty much useless. We have a Mayor who insists on embarrassing himself – and, by association, us – every time someone sticks a microphone in his face. We have a small criminal element, that cheap, tabloid journalists like Donal McIntyre and others seem to think is the sum total of our city. All of this means that it has been left to individual, concerned people to make a concerted effort to put a more positive spin on things. The community that has risen to the challenge is none other than the artistic community.
I’m not going to go into everything that has been organised by them because that would be one long post but one thing that has definitely put Limerick more firmly on the map is the proliferation of original bands and venues who are prepared to run gigs for them.
Last Thursday night, there was a rich and varied choice of entertainment in Limerick. It is something we haven’t seen for a while and should have been embraced by those in authority. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of our bars and venues, the night was to end in embarrassment as the Gards – (the Irish Police) – were sent out in force to raid pubs, shortly after closing time. It wasn’t just that they came in and cleared all the bars of law-abiding citizens who had just enjoyed a few pints and a gig; they parked their estate cars across the roads, making it look like the city was on full riot alert. In doing this, they put hundreds of people on the streets at exactly the same time. Some of them were drunk, and the combination of crowds, inebriation and youth is potentially a powder keg combination.
Ok, their argument will be that it is technically illegal to be in licensed premises after 12 o’clock, unless that premises has paid big money for an exemption. They won’t talk about how these raids have only started happening on this scale very recently. They also won’t talk about the fact that one pub doesn’t get raided because some of their colleagues like to drink there. They won’t talk about the fact that the practice of raiding pubs is archaic, ridiculous and utterly moronic. They well quote the letter of the law. In reality, it’s probably just some little dictator who is trying to make a name for himself in our police farce. They are entitled to quote the law because that law exists. My point is that it really shouldn’t.
Why do we have a closing time? It is the greatest contributor to binge drinking that we have. If a pub wants to stay open until 4 in the morning, or whenever, why shouldn’t they be allowed to? Isn’t it really just a restriction of trade? Of course, our learned government Ministers will harp on about how we need to break our drinking culture for the good of our health. Invariably, the clergy will then be asked to chime in with their tuppence worth and they’ll go on about the destruction of the family and the absence of God and other such whimsical bullshit that they aren’t qualified to spout. In the end, it’s all bullshit!
If an alcoholic is going to stay out all night boozing, you’re just not going to be able to stop them. Maybe you have a better chance of simply refusing them at the bar, rather than let them go home, where there really is no closing time. Also, if they really want to get themselves good and tanked, they can go to the pub early in the morning. Surely it’s more damaging to society to have people falling out of pubs at six in the evening, rather than six in the morning, no? I mean, how many people would stay out until six in the morning anyway? It’s really not the point, in any case.
The pub trade in Ireland is in decline because of our thoroughly pummelled ecconomy. People don’t have the disposable income they once had. This has hit an already fraught industry quite hard. A pub opens early and closes early. Traditionally, they only other option is to go to a club or a late bar, which is still only licensed up to 2am, which is a bit ridiculous, really. What about those people who wouldn’t mind a quiet pint and a chat at 1 or 2am? Where do they go? I’ll tell you where a lot of them go. They go home and sometimes they go home with their mates and drink all night anyway. Therefore, drink isn’t the problem here because you can have a house party every night of the week and never go to bed, if you so wish. The pub has to close at a time when they would probably make more money than at any other time. We like to go out at night. That’s when people go out!
The government needs a bigger tax take to pay for its own criminality and ineptitude and that of their banker buddies, yet they put archaic, nanny-state policies in the way of trade. Trade = tax revenue! Apart from the obvious revenue stream, there’s the added bonus of more employment. More bar staff, more bouncers. Cab drivers making, and spending, more money, people being generally happier because they aren’t being hounded by little country boy sergeants with a Stormin Norman complex.
These pub raids cannot possibly be of any benefit to anyone except the man who bizarrely gets the credit for them. They cause bad feeling and put way too many people on the street at exactly the same time. This is what you get in Ireland though. We get idiots placed in to positions of power they really can’t handle. You see it in every level of society in this country. We are possessed of more than our fair share of idiots, dictators, God warriors, numpties and morons in this country. Someday it will change. I doubt that I’ll be around to see it but it has to come.

The worst argument I’ve ever heard in favour of an artist is, “well look at how much money they’ve made”. It is a sad indictment of modern society that we have become so enamoured with possessions that we exclusively equate success with wealth and now we equate talent to exactly the same thing. People who think like this are fucking muppets. Sorry, that’s an insult to muppets.
If you set out solely to make a billion euro and you make a billion euro, you’ve been successful in your endeavours. If you set out to join a boyband and make lots of money and you join a boyband and make lots of money, you’re a success but that does not mean you’re talented. Equally, if you set out to make a decent album, and you do make a decent album, you’re a success. You may not make any money on it but that doesn’t take away from the fact that you have been successful in your endeavour. Other artist set out to make an album that will sell well, and despite their success in doing so, it doesn’t always make them musically talented.
People also choose to call the things they don’t like, shit. I have a very real hatred of the guitar player Yngwie Malmsteen. I believe he has a skill, rather than a musical talent. I would never call him a shit guitar player because he knows his way around the fretboard like few others do. My problem is that, for some, the faster you play, the better guitar player you are. Music is much more than mere musical wanking though and a real musician is generous to those with whom they play and always obeys the melody. Melody is king in a decent song. That’s not just an opinion, it’s a fact. Without melody, you don’t have a song. The melody is what you engage with. You may prefer decent drum sounds or bass sounds or piano, guitar, sax, flute or fucking spoons. It doesn’t matter. If all you can hear is your favourite instrument zig-zagging all over the melody, you can’t properly engage with the song.
It’s like baking a beautiful Black Forest Gateaux and then smarming mustard, ketchup and vinegar over it and offering it to someone to eat. If you can scrape off all of the needless shit that has nothing to do with the cake, you may be able to enjoy the actual cake but the memory of all that shit taints it for you anyway.
You then come to people who understand that certain melodies and certain arrangements resonate with people on a strictly distractionary basis. In other words, if there’s a decent hook, the lyrics don’t matter at all. If it gets people dancing, the hook or the lyrics don’t really matter. This is where the likes of Simon Cowell and Louis Walsh come in. They take on people who will never be passionate about music but wouldn’t mind being famous and making a few bob. These people seldom rock the boat and, if they do, Simon and Louis can just destroy them and move on to someone else. They control what you hear on TV and radio and now they’re so tied into commerciality that you have the unheard of travesty of Paul McCartney appearing on X-Factor. If you’re on that piece of shit of a show, you get a wide audience.
It’s never about music on these shows. They give you songs that you know well and they ask poor, misguided Kim Kardashian wannabees to sing them. Even if they lose, they’ll still be mobbed for their three month career of opening chippers and hairdressers but will then invariably lapse back into oblivion.
These shows have nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - to do with music. These shows are all about making Simon Cowell wealthier. It is truly amazing that so many people buy into this show. This is the show that spawned Jedward. If you slag Jedward these days, people say, “ah can’t you leave them alone. They’re living their dream, fair play to them”. Well I’m sorry but weren’t these guys famous for having absolutely no talent? Yes, yes, that was it. They were shit. They were utterly embarrassing shit. They were also too fucking stupid to realise that they were shit so they just kept going until, Louis sold them as some sort of an act. Fuck me!
Look, music isn’t about making money. The people who make the best music are the people who got into it because of their passion for music. These are people who constantly strive and struggle and work and save to keep doing what they do because people like Simon Cowell or Louis Walsh will NEVER help them. With the amount of money those two fucking conmen have made from inflicting templated, syruppy fucking shit on the world, they should be obliged to help struggling bands.
In short, if you ever use the argument, “yeah, but look how famous they are and look how much money they’ve made”, you’re a fucking moron and should never speak again… about anything.
Here’s a guy who is utterly original. He put time, energy, talent, knowledge and passion into his craft. Yeah, he can dance across the fretboard with great speed but, when the song kicks in, listen to how he obeys the melody. Very unique talent. If this guy was to appear on X-Factor, Simon Cowell would explode in a ball of fecal matter and then reassemble himself, Terminator-like, and vote him off the show for not having mass appeal. I challenge you though to tell me this is shit.

This is going to be a short post – (well, hopefully. I’m never quite able to judge these things, as I never plan, I just rant) – about a growing and arrogant group of people. I was standing outside a pub a few months ago and a guy I never met before offered me a joint. Now, I’ve got nothing against smoking hash. It’s pretty harmless, to be honest. I do have an enormous problem with some of the people who spend most of every day smoking it because it’s non-addictive.
Let’s just start with that fallacy. Ok, it’s not essentially addictive in the same way as heroin is but its absolute nonsense to say it’s non-addictive. Sunday driving is addictive to some people. Wanking is addictive to others and smoking hash is addictive, in habit, to a lot of others. To say its not addictive is like saying the Irish government is competent.
Ok, so that’s out of the way then. This benevolent stranger starts with, “how’s it going?” He then takes a long luxuriant toke from his joint and says, “Here, check this weed out. It’s fucking great”. I thought it to be a nice friendly gesture but I, nevertheless, declined by saying, “Nah, you’re grand, thanks”.
‘Don’t you smoke,’ says he.
‘Not really,’ says I.
‘Why not?’ asketh the benevolent stranger.
‘I just don’t,’ I replied. “I’ve nothing against it and I don’t dislike it, I just prefer a pint”.
‘That’s a drug too,’ informeth this paragon of generosity.
‘I know’, I replied, beginning to get a little irked by his Mrs Doyle behaviour.
‘It’s more addictive than weed,’ says he.
‘No it isn’t,’ I replied.
‘How do you make that out?’ this now very annoying stranger asks.
‘When was the last time you spent a day without smoking a joint?’ I probed.
The stranger spits out a hoarse guffaw, followed by a good ten second coughing fit into the sleeve of his shirt, before saying, ‘Probably twenty odd years, man’.
‘So how do you know it’s not addictive?’ I asked.
‘Because it just isn’t,’ he replied indignantly.
‘How do you know?’ I asked.
‘Because I do,’ he replied, now beginning to regret his initiation of our discourse.
‘But this is my first pint in about two weeks. I don’t generally drink during the week so how can you say that pints are more addictive than smoking hash?’ I asked.
‘Look at all the alcoholics,’ was his well thought out reply.
‘That’s a bit different. They are people who crave drink every day. Even at that, I would say that most alcoholics wouldn’t have had a drink every day for the past twenty odd years,’ I replied.
Now, clearly miffed, my new friend says, ‘They’re still alcoholics. In fact, they’re the socially accepted drug addicts’
‘I beg to differ,’ I countered politely, ‘alcoholism has never been socially acceptable. In fact, possibly the only socially acceptable form of addiction is drug addiction…’ I offered.
‘What are you…’ he interjected.
The carrot had been dangled and this benevolent moron had gone for it like a rabid donkey, before I interrupted him with, ‘prescription drug addiction, of course’.
That had him fuming. He didn’t really push me on that but continued with the line that all of these peace loving hippy hash smokers use; ‘You are paying a corporation like Heineken to get richer and they don’t give a fuck about you. All they do is add chemicals to the beer and you drink it up like a good little soldier, don’t you!’
‘Yes I do,’ was my simple reply.
‘So you admit it then?’ he said, eyes dancing with glee as he now thought he had drawn first blood.
‘Yes,’ I replied, not even bothering to point out that he himself was drinking a pint of Guinness, ‘Heineken provide quite a lot of employment, which helps the economy. They also produce a beer that I quite like to drink. They don’t hide the fact that there are chemicals in their beer but they don’t always publicise that their beer contains less chemicals than any of the other leading lager brands. So, in answer to your question, yes I am paying a corporation for their product, every time I go to the pub.’
‘And you don’t find anything wrong with that?’ Adolf Poppins inquired.
‘No,’ I replied, ‘I find nothing wrong with it at all. Now, since we’ve cleared that up, would you like to answer a couple of questions of mine?’
‘Fire away,’ he replied, getting settled in for a good debate.
‘Ok, tell me, why do you think there’s so much violent crime in Ireland?’ I asked.
‘Because the economy is fucked and it was corporations like Heineken that fucked it up,’ he answered.
‘I’m pretty sure that Heineken had absolutely nothing to do with the collapse of the economy, unless it was responsible for the erosion of Bertie Ahern’s soul, but I would go some way to agreeing that economic pressure has increased crime in general but violent crime rose exponentially during the boom years, so I don’t think you can really blame it on the economy. So, tell me, who are the people committing these crimes?’ I asked.
‘Fucking scumbags?’ replied my now chastened new friend.
‘That’s right,’ I replied, in possibly an overly condescending fashion. ‘ So, how come all the scumbags drive around in new cars and have every comfort they desire?’
‘They fucking rob everyone,’ my friend informed me, now getting a little more antsy and requiring a larger but not so luxuriant toke of his joint.
‘That’s partly the reason,’ I replied, ‘but what’s the real reason?’
‘They’re fucking scumbags. Murdering scumbags,’ he announced.
‘Again, no argument there,’ said I, ‘but being a scumbag doesn’t automatically entitle you to a pimped out Mercedes with bulletproof windows,’
‘Yeah,’ my new friend spat, ‘but they’re drawing every penny they can out of the government and they’re getting away with it.
‘Right again,’ I said, ‘but that hardly explains the lifestyle and possession they enjoy. Where do they get all of this money?’ I asked.
‘They control the fucking drug trade,’ my new friend exclaimed in a burgeoning ball of fury.
‘Nail on the head, my friend,’ I replied. ‘That is exactly right. Now tell me this, do you grow your own weed?’
‘Do in my fuck,’ he replies, ‘I get it from a fella down the road.’
‘Oh, so he grows his own dope?’ I asked.
‘Does in his fuck,’ my new friend pouted.
‘Ok, so let’s cut to the chase here. You get your hash from someone who is supplied by a fucking scumbag because they control the drug trade, right?’
‘I don’t know where he gets it from,’ my friend replies.
‘Is it safe to assume that he didn’t get it from the Dalai Lama?’ I asked and, when no reply was forthcoming, continued; ‘chances are that your money is helping to bullets in the guns that may have been used to kill an innocent person at some stage, or maybe threaten an eye witness or two?’
‘You can’t say that,’ my buddy fumed.
‘Maybe not,’ I replied, ‘but will you at least admit that there is every chance that that in fact is the case and, in admitting that, you must also admit that my support of a company that provides employment, tax revenue and a damn fine beer is ever more dignified than your support of a knuckle-dragging thug, who has blood on his hands?’
‘Fuck off, you cunt,’ my, now not very peace loving, new friend spat.
‘I’m just enjoying my pint, buddy,’ I replied, before basking in the sight of him downing his pint of Guinness, rivulets of tar black porter and foam running out either side of his mouth, before storming off up the street
So, there you have it. Not quite as short as I promised, but hey, I’m a cunt. I don’t care what you take to suspend reality a bit, but please don’t judge my choice.

I have a big problem with people who keep going on about having a revolution and it is this: if you ask them what they will do, once the current government is ousted, they just say, “Jail the bankers”. Ok, fair enough, we’d all jail Fitzy, Fingers, Drumm, Bertie, Cowen and so on but what would you do to get the country back on its feet? The stock answer to that seems to be, “Um, well, my mate Mikey’s a fucking great economist”. The portents aren’t good.
Lately, however, I’ve come to the conclusion that we are fucked without some kind of revolution and here’s why. Our politicians are telling us that the austerity we’ve been forced into should start to ease around 2016 or so. Unfortunately, they tell us this because they constantly need to spin this yarn so it looks like they’re doing a good job, come election time. The reality is that we face a minimum of ten years of austerity because our politicians are more interested in PR than anything else. In fact, if you look at some figures, without some drastic overhaul of ours, the IMF’s and the EU’s recovery policies, we could still be facing austerity in 2040. We will continue to acquire debt that we can’t afford to repay. Yes, one would hope that something would give in the intervening 29 years, but this is Ireland and there’s no guarantee that we won’t happily take it up the arse ad infinitum.
As you know, there are people who are a lot better at writing about this shit than I am but I need point a few things out in order to make my point. Let’s take a look at Enda Kenny’s state of the nation address from early December. Remember, this was delivered before the budget. He started by stating the challenges faced by Ireland: to restore our economy, to create the environment of sustained jobs and to look after the most vulnerable people in our society. A lot of people, including this gullible pirate, watched that speech and said; maybe they’re finally going to go at the people who actually have money in this country. Maybe they’re going to make sure that the working class finally get a break. Maybe this is going to be a brave new world for Ireland. Ok, maybe I wasn’t that optimistic but I did hope. Of course when the budget came in, it did the exact opposite of what he laid out as challenges in his speech. Surely he has just lied through his teeth to us then. Surely we can legally call for him to stand down! Nah, we’ll just watch Corrie and pretend it never happened.
Our Taoiseach went to great pains to genuinely tell the people of Ireland that the economic mess isn’t their fault. “You did not cause this”. Yes, but we will pay for it, Enda. Meanwhile, he is paying ridiculous wages to his advisors and has reinstated the cronyism he swore so vehemently he would abolish when he was running for election.
Do we need a revolution? Yes, we most certainly do but it needs to be an intelligent, bloodless and well thought out revolution. Can that happen in this country? Probably not. Why can’t it happen in this country? Because, unfortunately we are top heavy with idiots. Yes, I said it; Irish people in general are fucking stupid. Tell the people that we are paying 3.6 billion next year to bondholders we absolutely do not and should not be paying and they say, “ah, for fuck’s sake”. Tell them they can’t hunt and brutally kill animals and they’re out on the streets protesting about how their “way of life” should be protected. Idiots! Think about that €3.6 billion. Think about how much more good could have been done in the budget, if we didn’t have to pay that.
We have bent over and said fuck me to Europe, when we should have said fuck you to a lot of what they demanded. Yeah, we need Europe right now but there were actions that should’ve been taken but weren’t and the status quo, for those at the top, remains completely unchanged, unchallenged and unbowed by the very obvious challenges faced by those of us at the bottom.
I’ll leave this with Enda Kenny’s state of the nation address. If you’re unfamiliar with the state of Ireland, please take my word for it. This is a staged outpouring of utter bullshit. We need to make a stand because the system doesn’t work. The system is unfair. The system is broken beyond repair and these fucking dickheads are trying to glue it back together with lies and ignorance. This current, broken system will never work again.

So, part 1 dealt with music, so there’s no real reason to revisit it. Yes, there are things I wish I’d said and didn’t but there’s always next year.
Part 2 will deal with two parts of the Christmas formula. Movies will be discussed and ravaged later but we will start, briefly, with the dreaded Christmas work do.
If you live in Ireland you’ll know and recognise our antiquated style of management, largely built on cronyism, obsequiousness and the odd outdated American management manual. Y’know, the kind of one written by a real go-getter back in the 80’s. There are some excellent people managers whom I have worked, and continue to work with, but there are also some pitifully awful pieces of shit who have not one clue about management. They fall into two categories: Those who are still craving parental approval and those who got way too much of it. They are aloof and snotty and are thoroughly detestable human beings who will live their pointless lives and never even question if they could have actually done something constructive with them. I recently had a chat about percentages with one of them that was akin to the “small. Far away” lecture that Father Ted gave Doughal.
Believe me, I could go on ad nauseum about these little fucking arse licking idiots but the point is that every year, you are expected to go out with these people, socialise with them and, very likely, get drunk with them. How anyone thinks this is a good idea is beyond me. You will invariably have the two who drunkenly jump each other’s bones and regret it the following morning, the moronic, unrealistic and stupidly dressed woman, who starts crying about the state of her relationship and you just know that she will gravitate towards you, because you are the one person trying not to get involved, you’re trying to be invisible so you can maybe slip away and join your mates somewhere. It’s fine if you go out with the people you immediately work with. They have probably become mates but the Christmas work do should be banned. They are normally tacky and unnecessary affairs that cost too much money and are invariably disappointing and embarrassing.
Right, now that that’s out of the way, we make our way towards TV movie scheduling for Christmas. Willy Wonka, It’s a Wonderful Life, The Champ, The Great Escape, Titanic, ET, Die Hard, A plethora of James Bond movies, Little Women and, of course, Star Wars, will all feature heavily in the Christmas schedule. You will be able to see some of them more than once, should you have the urge for repeated punishment.
Most of these movies have very little to do with Christmas, yet they pick them every fucking year. Why is that? Why show the fucking squirm-fest that is Titanic at a time when we’re all supposed to be happy and getting along? This is a three hour movie about a love affair between two nauseating characters that just happens to have the Titanic as a backdrop. A Night To Remember is a far superior film and they had none of the special effects technology open to James Cameron. He had a chance to tell a powerful story about a tragedy the many of us are fascinated with but he fucked it up. What’ll he think of next, Dances With Wolves in Space… oh, wait a second…
The Great Escape is an excellent, if slightly flawed, movie about actual events and I’ll admit I look forward to seeing it when it’s on. I still don’t know why they choose Christmas to show this film but that’s fine.
Star Wars is a great trilogy. The original had everything; space, fascism, good vs evil, heroes, villains, latent incestuous longing and colouredy swords. That’s all well and good. I don’t subscribe to the belief that these are amongst the best ever made, though. As a kid I loved them. Then that fucking wanker, George Lucas decided to milk the cash cow and make prequels to the original. That’s actually ok as a concept, there were some unresolved issues. I mean, Darth Vader suddenly becomes a good guy right before he pops his clogs and they all meet up in the afterlife for a bit of a party and a natter and it never quite made sense to me. The prequels go into exhaustive detail about his fall from goodie to baddie. The problem with the prequels is that they are such unbelievable shit, I wanted to go to George Lucas’ house and bludgeon him with Spielberg’s severed arm. He basically tied me to a chair, held my eyes open with matches and made me watch as he smeared his own shit all over my childhood. As I squirmed and wailed, he laughed maniacally, scooping another handful directly from his fat, hairy hole and happily applied it to those precious memories I had held so dear. Fuck you, Lucas, you fucking knobhead!
Have we become so enslaved to formula that we actually yearn for it? I remember years ago, hearing someone complain that they weren’t showing Willy Wonka that year. WHAT? Who fucking cares about Willy fucking Wonka! Wait until next year or buy the fucking DVD!
We live in a time when originality is in criminally short supply. In music, it is beginning to show signs of life again but those signs are very faint and, if Darth Walsh finds out, he’ll wipe it out entirely. Movies, however, are dying on the vine. Everything’s a remake, a sequel, a prequel or a bad rendering of a comic book hero. Yet, we lap it up. I recently read a book by Thomas Harris called Fatherland, that would make a great movie but they won’t make it. Yes, there are some exceptions that give us hope but they are very few. In fact, the only truly reliable director these days is Clint Eastwood. He is, in fact, the only remaining superstar on the planet.
Look at what they’ve stolen from us. Vampires are now lovely people in search of true love and loveliness, for fuck’s sake. It used to be that, if you had a poster of a vampire in your bedroom, you weird. Now it’s fucking normal. How did this happen. What’s next? Derek and Peggy – a Zombie Love Story. (Love never dies, even for the undead). Sweet suffering fuck!
So, now that you’ve read this, scurry away and lap up your formula and live in the nice bubble with the message emblazoned upon it, “DON’T WORRY, NOTHING WILL EVER CHANGE”. To quote John McClane in Die Hard, “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem, buddy”.
So, to finish, I genuinely wish you all a happy and peaceful Christmas and a truly great New Year, it probably won’t happen, but I hope it does. Hey, why don’t you give yourself a real present this Christmas and try something different.