One Trick Tubridy
Ok, that is fucking it. The gloves are, like, so fucking totally off. It’s like I never had a fucking glove. My hands are as naked as Heather Mills’ whorish greed.
It’s my own fault. I should have known better. I have recently been accused of slagging Ronan Keating too often. Apparently he’s a nice guy and I should leave the talentless piece of fucking annoying shit alone. Well fine. I promise to leave the fucking mincing, clichéd and contrived, smiley fucker alone from now on. The point that was well made to me involved my lack of research into all things Ronan. As I am certainly not a masochist, I have decided not to research him and, instead, simply stop talking about the fucking annoying prick.
Ok. The piece of miserable fucking puss to whom the title of this rant alludes makes Ronan Keating seem like the most talented troubadour ever to trawl Garth Brooks’ back catalogue for a hit - I know; I promised. The fucking nut tumour of whom I speak is Ryan Tubridy. Yes, I am revisiting old ground but I am now revisiting it from the point of view of having put myself through the agony of thirty excruciating minutes of research.
For those of you who have never heard of this fucking clinker on the crack of mediocrity, I will explain. If you like David Letterman, you’ll hate Ryan Tubridy - despite his best efforts to be the Irish version of Letterman. I don’t mind Letterman too much but the one thing that fucking annoys me about him is his constant parumping on his desk. “What’s parumping?” I hear you cry. Well it’s when a chatshow host performs percussion on the edge of his desk as a kind of lead in to the next item. Well guess who the Irish parumping king is? Ryan Fucking Tubridy.
“So - parumpapumpity pap - my next guest is another obscure Fair City actor that nobody outside Dublin has ever heard of.”
He has a regular Saturday night slot on, what passes for a national channel in Ireland and he is more nauseating than a marmalade and chlamydia pizza with extra marmite.
To understand the annoygma that is Ryan Tubridy, you must first of all understand what passes for entertainment in the pasty jowled vacuums of the heads of RTE.
You can’t just have a chat show in Ireland. I mean, you can’t have a show where you bring guests on and talk to them. No, you have to have competitions for the audience. Now, I don’t know about you but, if you’re thick enough to spend money on going to the Tubridy Tonight show, you deserve a kick in the bollox, not a fucking weekend for two in Ballypointless in Killarney or fucking Wicklow or something. Jonathon Ross does a show in front of a studio audience but you hardly ever see them because - well - who wants to?
Ok, Ryan - the fucking stick insect - Tubridy did an interview with a guy called Bryan Murray.
Who?
Let me explain. Bryan Murray used to be in a show called the Irish R.M, which was crap - ok, I was too young to have really researched it but the clip that Ryan Fucking Toe Jam Tubridy showed was crap. Bryan played a cheeky Irish chappy and was probably the worst thing in it. He then had a minor role in Strumpet City, which is still held as one of the best things RTE has done and that was around twenty five years ago. He went from that to being a cheeky Irish chappy in a fucking useless comedy called Bread. You might be thinking that this guy was type-cast but he then went on to play an abusive husband in the worst Soap Opera outside of Fair City; Brookside. He was eventually killed off and buried under a patio until, while we all prayed that his career was similarly buried, some idiot decided to give him a job in the worst Soap Opera ever; Fair City.
Now you’d think this is a guy would count himself lucky to be interviewed as part of an ongoing investigation but, such is the quality of guests queuing up to talk to Ryan Tubridy, Bryan found himself being interviewed by the shameless parumpper at the time I was chewing through my own peg leg during my research. Tubridy heralded Bryan as some sort of acting powerhouse, a legend and Bryan didn’t balk at the opportunity to jizz on his own ego. He played the seasoned actor role as badly as he has played every role I have had the misfortune to see him play.
I fucking hate actors who think that, just because they are getting on in years, they should be held up as legends no matter how fucking hopeless they’ve always been. Barbara Windsor is another one who does this. This woman couldn’t act her way out of a fucking wet paper tantrum. Legend? Fuck off.
Tubridy regularly interviews the cast of Fair City because no one else wants to and he still does these fucking annoying audience participation games. FUCK OFF!!! In fact, I’m willing to bet that half of the audience, at least, have more to say than most of his fucking moronic guests and would without a doubt be a fucking hell of a lot more interesting to listen to.
top stuff there Can’n… except I think RT is but a victim of the creatively castrated organisation which he is unfortuneate enough to be still contracted to: RTE television. the set, the guests, that awful fukkn excuse for a karaoke band, the competitions… it’s a testament to his character he can appear with a smile and take it on the chin each week…
spare me…
Comment by ADO — April 2, 2008 @ 8:09 pm
I am appalled that you don’t have the strength of character to admit that you are in fact IN LOVE with Tubridy. You want to marry him and have little Pirate Radios (groan).
Having said that, your analysis is still valid; I die a little inside whenever I mistakenly catch 10 seconds of his show.
Next you’ll be slagging off Winning Streak. (Take the f**king hint!!)
Comment by Darwin — April 4, 2008 @ 1:10 pm
And here’s a cross-over between your pet hate and mine, Tubridy with a ‘psychic’ fraud.
Comment by Darwin — April 4, 2008 @ 1:16 pm
Tell us, did he ask Bryan any awkward questions about his fun park for kids venture that sank like a stone with all creditors on deck?
Comment by conandrumm — April 8, 2008 @ 8:39 am
No, I think is most searching question was, “Have you ever considered Hollywood?”
Comment by captainpurplehead — April 8, 2008 @ 10:06 am
Sounds like you need a ride or something. have you any feeling left in your fingers after typing that rant!! Sit down and have a cup of tea. He’s only a tv presenter.
Comment by gilly — April 8, 2008 @ 12:48 pm
I’d say he considered it. And then realised that though Hollywood would be unlikely to consider him back, whatever self-produced RTE shit was gracing our screens would be begging him to work based on his being in an proper Britsoap.
He was in Glenroe too, you know. Just so you know.
Oh, and:
‘more nauseating than a marmalade and chlamydia pizza with extra marmite.’
Beauteous.
Comment by gimmeaminute — April 8, 2008 @ 12:48 pm
You sound like someone with an ice pick up his arse dangling a bunch of sour grapes. I assume you haven’t been tied to a chair with electrodes attached to your nether regions. Just turn him Off. Read a book. Walk the dog. Learn to make pizza dough. Invent a better mammogram machine.
Comment by Nora — April 9, 2008 @ 10:53 pm
All good ideas. I was once tied to a chair by Blind Betty Beauford but that was an altogether more pleasurable experience.
Comment by captainpurplehead — April 10, 2008 @ 6:43 pm
“All good ideas”
Excellent! And if you start with the mammogram machine I’ll be your lifelong fan. I might even invent something for you.
Comment by Nora — April 23, 2008 @ 7:21 pm
hey,i heard una crawford o brien had now left her hubby for bryan murray,roughly in spring of this year. thats the rumour round rte anyway.they are in his local in milltown all the time.
Comment by darla — November 16, 2008 @ 8:12 pm
ive worked as an extra in rte and the phenomenal ego of some of the alleged actors out there is hilarious.i asked one of them a question,the one in the milk ad and she actually said’do you know who i am?’.To which i replied’Yeah,the only member of the cast i cant name’.That particular actress is called forrest gump behind her back.
Comment by darla — November 16, 2008 @ 8:17 pm