Captain Purplehead

I’m not quite finished with the gun control thing, as I soon intend to show you all what an idiot Wayne LaPerre is, but this is a short post to tell you of another pirate.
I received a ticket to a preview screening of a new movie. It’s not an honour that is often bestowed upon me but I suppose it was necessary to have a real pirate in attendance to lend the proceedings a degree of accuracy. I speak, of course, of Pirates of the Caribbean at World’s End.
T’was with some reluctance that I deigned to watch the first two installments of this franchise and I must say that I enjoyed them immensely. There are some glaring historic inaccuracies in them but I let that slide. The third installment seems to have removed itself in style from the first two and, though it doesn’t entirely work, it made for another entertaining cinema experience.
The problem with the third movie is that it relegated the primary jewel - Johnny Depp - to more of a supporting role to the incredibly overrated Orlando Bloom and the beautiful, if limited, Keira Knightley. I’m not going to go into the plot of the film but there is a lot going on and it seems to me that the constraints of the American cinema going public has somewhat foiled this film. Market research has apparently revealed that American cinema audiences will balk at a movie that is three hours long. This movie needed to be that long in order to tie up its previously unfinished plots but the end result seems a tad rushed.
The action buffs amongst you will enjoy the final battle scene, though I doubt the Thirsty Kipper could have ever withstood such punishment.
Undoubtedly the scene-stealers of these movies are Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush and Bill Nighy. There are other entertaining supporting roles but I believe that the role of Will Turner was mis-cast. Depp says he based his character on Keith Richards - although purists say he based it on yours truly - and Keef makes a cameo appearance that doesn’t live up to the hype that surrounded it.
All of these minor gripes aside, t’was an entertaining yarn and I would encourage you to see it. I still remain your number one pirate in these waters but you could do a lot worse. If you liked the first two, you’ll love this one, though it may divide some fans. Whilst no self-respecting pirate would allow himself to be named “Sparrow”, I believe that Cap’n Jack is a worthy addition to our brethren.

Yes, it’s true; this is my 100th rant on this site. Since last July I have been waxing lyrical on all manner of shite and now I find myself at this worrying milestone. There have been many highlights in my life this year outside of my duties on the Thirsty Kipper but the highlight of my ranting is the disposal of one Mr. Richard Shepherd and his writing web-shite. Due to the dedication of Debs and Rochelle and a few others we have now ensured that his website - worldsgreatestnovel.com - is now a dumping site for every fucking reprobate on the net with a link to dump. I recently posted as “Mematey” in his forum and he didn’t even ban me. Was it good enough for him to simply neglect the site? No. There are still twenty-one authors, whose work is still associated with Dick’s scam. My mission now is to protect these authors from being associated with the idiot spammers and perverts who now use the forum.
Providence is a funny thing. Whilst writing this, I noticed that I had a new comment on my last post. It was from the wonderful Debra, who has just informed me that the site is now gone. It has joined the choir eternal. Now that’s progress. I won’t go into the specifics of this scam as I have several other earlier posts on this subject under The World’s Greatest Nobble. Indeed, there is a link to Debra’s site on my links section so, if you’d like to learn more about Dick the idiot, feel free to take a look.
The more I think about it, the more I realise that one hundred rants in eight months isn’t all that great. It’s just over twelve rants per month, which isn’t what you’d call prolific. Still, in the words of the late Magnus Magnussen, I’ve started so I’ll finish. Will I become more prolific in the next eight months? I certainly hope not. If that were to happen, it would mean that there is even more shit that’s going to piss me off. Do I have to write solely about things that piss me off? No, but I tend to put all other considerations on the long finger.
I was recently talking to the great Bock The Robber via email and he asked me how I would describe bloggers. I said that they were kind of like super heroes. Mild mannered citizens - or in my case, wild mannered pirates - by day who assume a different identity in the virtual world to champion humour and justice and to prove that the pen is mightier than the sword. We each have unique powers. One of mine seems to be the ability to piss people off. I have had some interesting comments throughout my eight months as a blogger.
The Celia Holman Lee rant also seemed to generate some debate amongst you. I have been called everything from a twat to fuck-face to the champion of the real people over that one and I accept each moniker with gratitude. Ah tis nice that even the vacuous take time to read and comment on my work. I won’t say that I will publish every comment - there have been some stupid, racist, fucking knuckle-dragging wastes of oxygen who have made some pretty disgusting comments - but I will never refuse to publish a comment simply because it is from someone who has something less than flattering to say about me.
There are some rants that I began but didn’t finish because they bored me. One such rant was about Dublin 4 people - is there any lower form of life north of the amoeba? Dublin 4 people bore me and writing about them had a similar effect. I will say that a friend of mine was at Croke Park for the historic game against England and had the misfortune to be seated in front of a shower of Dublin 4 idiots. One was heard to shout, “Get O’Gara off!” I suppose his one hundred percent success rate from kicks that day simply wasn’t good enough for them. Another thing that seems to be unworthy of them is the Irish accent. Fucking tossers. Yes, I’m sure there are some normal people who live in Dublin 4 but they really should move so that we can clear out what’s left.
I’ve also had a go at George W Bush several times but my feelings about him have changed somewhat. I used to think that George was an evil, racist, monosyllabic moron who is only fit to run a fucking hen-house. On deeper reflection I have changed my opinion on him. He isn’t fit to run a hen house. Remiss of me, was that.
I’ve had a go at Irish celebrities and celebrity in general but I really shouldn’t waste my breath - or at least the energy it takes to type - on these idiots. If people are into that shit, it’s way too late for me to try and change their minds. You can become a celebrity by first becoming the lowest form of human shite. The Hamiltons became celebrities through being accused of sexual assault. Heather Mills is a celebrity because she is willing to whore herself for financial gain, yet still refuse to call herself a whore. In an ideal world she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on in court - yeah, I know, sorry about that.
I’ve slagged off the Irish government - or lack there of - and with good reason. You’d think it would be the easiest thing in the world to write child protection laws but they end up making it easier for amoral briefs to get their pervert clients off the hook. Here’s the thing; if you are found guilty of being a paedophile, you are sent to jail without the chance of ever seeing freedom again. We live in a world where a woman who defaulted on a €1600 Credit Union loan was sent to jail, yet a man found with over one thousand images of child pornography on his hard drive got a €1000 fine and a three month suspended sentence. That’s €1 per image and no jail time. What good news for the nasty little perverts in our society. We also gave a state funeral to a man who swindled the country out of tens of millions. Well, that’s Ireland for you. You can’t say our governments aren’t consistent. They’ve been consistently bad since the formation of the state.
Animal cruelty is another atrocity that has never been dealt with in this country. If you have a pet, they’re always glad to see you. We seem to have a habit in this country of ignoring the innocent victims and celebrating the guilty. Fucking pathetic, if you ask me.
So, one hundred fucking rants. No big deal really. Another highlight, though, was being nominated for an award for one of my rants. I didn’t make the shortlist but it is great to have been nominated and thank you to whoever nominated me. I heard that the awards party was a great success and I hope to dock the Thirsty Kipper in Dublin next year and join you.
In closing, and before I go on to my one hundred and first rant, I’d like to say to those of you have commented that it’s easy for me to rant, since I have the forum in which to do it; go and get yourself a page. It’s free, it’s easy and it’s the best therapy I know.
Well, I’m off to down a few kegs of rum in honour of this milestone. Ah fuck it, any excuse will do.
Take care and a YYYYYAAAAAAARRRRRRR to each and every one of you.

I used to review movies but I have deliberately omitted reviews from this blog as they tend to become boring and preachey. It would take a damn good movie - or a criminally bad one - to make me change my stance and I’m glad to say that it is a great movie that has prompted this post.
Shaun of the Dead was far and away the best comedy of last year and I waited in anticipation for the sequel. I had heard a rumour that they were going to name the sequel, From Dusk Till Shaun but apparently they’re not interested in making sequels. This is a refreshing stance - if a little disappointing given the quality of the work. I was thrilled to hear that Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright were making another comedy. The problem that I have is that I expect them to deliver something magnificent, which inevitably means that I end up being disappointed. I wasn’t disappointed with Hot Fuzz, however. I suppose the initial laugh comes from Simon Pegg playing so heftily against type but that is intentional and necessary. This is one fucking funny film.
I’m not going to go into a summary of the story because most of you probably already know about it but I will say that, apart from the writing, the strength of this film is in the cast. From Bill Nighy’s cameo appearance to Timothy Dalton camping it up as a villan, everything about the casting of Hot Fuzz is perfect. Nick Frost is proving himself to be one of the best comedy actors in the business, while Bill Bailey gives a brilliantly understated performance as twin brothers.
This is not a spoof movie. The juvenile rubbish that is the Scary Movie franchise is supposed to be spoof but is shite. Hot Fuzz is more of a send-up of action genre films and you can tell that Pegg and Wright are either fans of the action genre or did exhaustive research. The fact that this film is set in a stereo-typical English village adds to the homour. I have spoken to people who have moaned about the plot but I think those people are missing the point. The plot of any action movie is paper-thin. It exists only as an excuse for shooting, fighting, posing and explosions. In Hot Fuzz, a Miss Marple-type plot begins to unfold and it would have been easy for them to stick to this but, since this is a send-up of the action genre, they merely ditch this plot for something more ridiculous. This is what makes it even funnier in my eyes.
In short, Hot Fuzz will make you laugh until you cry. If, however, you are a fan of Scary Movie and other such wastes of film, you probably won’t enjoy it. I normally find violence against elderly people utterly distasteful but there is a scene in this movie where an old lady is the recipient of a flying kick to the face that is hilarious.

I would like to start this by saying that I enjoyed Enemy at the Gates but thought it would have been a lot better with a different lead actor. It needed someone gritty and raw - Gary Oldman, perhaps. Having said that, I did enjoy it but I do believe that it is time to consign Jude Law to the celebrity scrap-heap. Firstly; he takes himself way too seriously for someone of limited talent and secondly; he’s a tosspot. In fact, more than being a tosspot, he’s a twat, a twat, a twat and a fucking major fucking, pain in the hole twat!!!
“So, Jude, what attracted you to this role?”
“Well it was written with such integrity and soul that I couldn’t turn it down.”
“So it wasn’t the big bag of money you got for doing it then?”
“No. Absolutely not! My character is so well written, multi layered and complex. It’s a dream for an actor to play a role like this.”
“So absolutely nothing to do with the money?”
“Money just can’t buy this kind of role.”
“So were you a fan of Popeye then?”
No, he never played Popeye but this is an example of his stock answers. I fucking hate actors who go on like that. It’s ok if you’re De Niro, Pacino, Depp or Turturro or Buscemi or Oldman or any of the really good actors out there but not if you’re a sub-standard bit of British eye candy. The annoying thing about Jude Law is that he could have actually been a good actor if he hadn’t so effectively buried his head up his own arse. There is one person who absolutely believes in Jude Law’s talent. This guy claims that Jude is the best actor ever to come out of England - possibly the world. That person is, of course, Jude Law himself.
Why the remade Alfie in the first place is completely beyond me but look at the absolute fucking pile of shite he turned it into. Michael Caine WAS Alfie and nobody else on the planet should have even attempted to take on the role unless they were absolutely convinced that they were more capable than Caine. Of course, it comes as no surprise that the person with an ego bigger than Jupiter thought just that and he was wrong - not in his eyes - but in everyone elses. Now we get to the sycophant who puts up with his nanny fucking; Sienna Miller. This woman is making movies because of him. I was looking forward to the proposed biopic of Edie Sedgewick until I found out that she is playing the title role. Holy fucking Elvis on a fucking tricycle! They are going to turn what is a tragic story of excess and vanity into a fucking joke. Who’s she going to play next? Marianne Faithful? That’s right, give her all the sixties female icons and let her fucking fuck them up. How many actresses have opened their legs in order to open doors. There are some genuinely great actresses out there but they still allow nobodies to take on important roles. The same goes for actors. The day of the superstar is at an end because anyone can be fucking famous now. Jade fucking Goody is fucking famous for fuck’s sake! It’s fucking pathetic. It’s enough to make you fucking choke yourself to death on your own fucking entrails. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!

Just a quick post to wish you all a happy new year. The Thirsty Kipper is docked and I will be seeing in the new year with me foine wench and me crew. The rum has been… ahem… appropriated and the decks are scrubbed. I have had many things to give out about this year and it is my firm hope that 2007 holds far less to complain about. I have also had many things that made me smile. In Bloggage, I firmly recommend Bock The Robber - a fellow Limerick man and a foine blogger if ever there was one. Check out his Scientology blog and the mighty dictator one, which is one of the cleverest I have read.
In music, I loved the new Muse album but not as much as Absolution. I also loved Grant Lee Philips’ Nineteeneighties album which covers great songs of the eighties like Wave of Mutilation by the Pixies, Love My Way by the psychedelic Furs, Last night I dreamed somebody loved me by the Smiths and Boys don’t cry by the Cure.
In politics, I was heartened by the American peoples’ firm too fingers to the Republicans.
In movies, I loved The Departed, the movie based on my life starring Johnny Depp and Nacho Libre. To be honest, I saw quite a few better movies than the ones above but I cannot think of them at the moment.
In sport, I loved the Villa takeover and managerial appointment. I loved our start to the season but the transfer window can’t open soon nor wide enough. I also loved hearing Mourinho making an arse of himself.
Loved the Ryder Cup and enjoyed my time there.
In travel, I loved Venice and Rome. Italy is a secret that everyone should discover.
In Piracy, I loved our sacking of the Island of Dodgy Skull and the new GPS system I installed in the Thirsty Kipper.
I hope you all find some joy in the new year and that you don’t take it for granted. I someone makes you smile on a regular basis. I hope and wish and pray that we all find peace.
Happy New Year!!!!! YYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!

I have long been saying that Hollywood has run out of ideas. How many classic movies have been made in the last ten years? Mystic River is one and there are a few others but there really isn’t the same volume of quality film making that there used to be. Why? Because the entertainment industry is no longer the province of rebels and frustrated genius’. It is now a big money machine. Music is churned out assembly line-like and we have the strains of untalented fucking pretty boys and girls assaulting our aural space on all to frequent an occassion. Don’t get me wrong; there is still some great music coming out. The Fratellis, Muse and Arcade Fire to name but a few but there are too many really good bands being sacrificed for the sake of some fake fucking idiot who insists on warbling Bee Gees or Garth Brooks covers for easy money and then complaining that no on takes him seriously. WE WOULDN’T TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY IF YOU WERE HOLDING A GUN TO OUR HEADS YOU FUCKING MAGGOTS!!!
Every movie these days is either a fucking remake or a sequel. Where are the new fucking ideas. I just bet there have been some fucking brilliant scripts put through the shredder in favour of a remake of the remake of some fucking piece of shit which was rubbish in the first place. Then there are the remakes of classics, which clearly fuck them up.
I loved the Lord of the Rings movies but what has happened to Peter Jackson since? He does a pointless remake of King Kong and now he is slated to do an equally pointless remake of Dambusters. These movies are still great and there is absolutely no point in remaking them. Lets just keep that big fucking money machine rolling.
Of course you also have prequels. FFFFUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!
Carlito’s Way was a fucking great movie but recently the made a fucking prequel!!! You can just imagine the meeting.
Brad: “Right, what movie are we gonna make next guys?”
Corey: “Hey how about a sequel to Carlito’s way. I’m thinking of Matt Damon as Carlito.”
Brad: “Excellent idea!”
Monique: “Ahem. Didn’t Carlito die at the end of the first movie?”
Brad: “Damn Damn Damn it all to hell!”
Corey: “Well we could always do a prequel with McAuley Culkin as Carlito.”
Brad: “You’re a damn genius Corey. Y’see, Monique, you could learn from this guy. How are we doing with the Pee Wee goes Fishing remake?”
Brad: “Well Ian McKellan has pulled out of the lead role.”
I wonder how fucking far off I am. not very fucking far at all, I’ll bet.
The only remake that I can think of that made any sense to make was Ocean’s Eleven because the first one was absolute fucking pants. Why can’t the big studios employ people with ideas?
My hope for 2007 is to see an end to unecessary remakes and sequels.

Security in Lapland had been tightened due to a recent assassination attempt. A source close to the Claus Corporation informed us that Santa Claus narrowly escaped death when a bullet from a high velocity rifle narrowly missed his head. Veteran reindeer Blitzen was not so lucky however, as he was standing behind Santa and was mortally wounded. Our source said that Santa is devastated but has vowed to take extreme measures if the gunman is caught The breakaway “Elf Help Group”, are thought to be behind the attempt although no organisation has claimed responsibility as yet. The rebel group are thought to have been behind several terrorist attacks in Lapland over the past seven years since Santa refused their appeals to wear their own clothes. A spokesman for “The Elf Help Group” said at the time, “We are sick of being treated like animals. Satan Claus insists that we wear those stupid dungaree shorts and bobble hats at all public engagements and we can’t get chicks interested in us as a result. He also has given us growth inhibitors since we were children and we are not putting up with it anymore. We have the support of the Oompa Loompas, the Jockey Club and Pablo O’Byrne. The reindeer are allowed to do what they like but we have to go around dressed like f*****g t**s. It’s just not on!!” Pablo O’Byrne is thought to be responsible for funding the EHG.
The rebels’ earlier attempts at publicly humiliating Mr Claus failed because of the lack of originality of their ideas. Having taken the advice of an animal rights activist, they hurled blood at Santa during his press conference in 1998 in which he was refuting allegations of an affair with a young intern. As he was saying, “I have no idea how my cigar got there. She must have sat on it or something”, he was struck by several bags of blood which only blended in with his outfit. Two weeks later as he was guest of honour at the Miss Lapland pageant, they attempted to tie his bootlaces together but Santa had chosen to wear Wellington style boots for the occasion. They have also tried to expose the fact that several valuable orders were subcontracted to Lilliput, meaning that overtime was cut substantially. Santa simply stated that since the Claus Corporation was essentially a non profit organisation, that the elves were being greedy by asking for more money.
Two tears ago, however, after going to a training camp in the middle-east, the EHG carried out a series of bombings on key Lapland installations. The My Little Pony factory was completely levelled in one blast. This latest attack signifies a serious and worrying escalation in hostilities as the revolution has claimed its first casualty.
Blitzen was one of the best loved reindeer and was only one week away from retirement. He recently gained notoriety after being outed by the Hollywood Homo magazine. We tried to get a comment from celebrity reindeer, Rudolph, earlier but he refused to get out of his luxury horsebox when he saw us coming. Long time colleague and life partner, Prancer, said, “This is just so senseless. Blitzen never hurt anyone. He was gentle and loving and always used lubricant. I hope that the EHG are punished severely for this. It was one thing painting Rudolph’s nose black - I mean we don’t rely on it anymore since we had the fog lamps fitted to the sleigh - but this is senseless violence and now my Blitzen is dead.” Asked if he was going to work on Friday night, a visibly heartbroken Prancer replied, “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Earlier today, we received a prepared statement from Santa Claus. It read; “I am deeply shocked by this attempt on my life. I was wearing a bullet-proof hat at the time but it is a worrying development none the less. I am very grateful to that reindeer, Bloston, and my deepest sympathy goes out to Pincher and all the rest of the reindeer. I fully understand Pincher’s reluctance to work on Friday night but I would like to point out that he is still under contract. To the EHG, I would like to say that I am available for dialogue if that’s what you want but I refuse to accept any elf wearing a tracksuit and trainers as an elf. I would also like to remind them that they signed a contract in which they have agreed to the dress code. I am willing to listen, and maybe compromise, but I will not bow to violence.” A tough stance indeed from a very determined commander and chief, who once famously said “There is no Elvish word for Continuifalleesh”.
Funeral arrangements for Blitzen are dependant on the post mortem.

Yarr me shipmates, I apologize for my absence but I have been in Venice. I had intended to write a piece whilst there but I couldn’t possibly spend twenty minutes staring at a monitor when I could just walk around a truly beautiful city. There is very little rantage in this blog because I had a great time and met some great people including some really great Americans - yeah, you heard it right.
I love Italy. They truly know what is to preserve their culture. You will see evidence of this in most Italian cities. You can go on a sun holiday any time you like but, if you die without out seeing Rome and Venice, you have truly missed out. Besides, it was quite hot there. My only gripe about Venice is that, if you don’t feel like walking, you better have re-mortgaged your house. My comely lass and I got a water taxi from the Rialto Bridge to St Mark’s square - about a fifteen minute boat ride - and were charged the princely sum of €60. Gondolas vary from €80 to €150 so we didn’t bother with that but I would get a water taxi at least once because you see parts of the city which are inaccessible by foot. I should have just sailed the Thirsty Kipper to Venice, I could have saved a fortune. The good news is that Venice is walkable. You can walk from one end to the other in a couple of hours. You won’t feel it because you will be blown away by the sheer beauty of the city. Another word of advice is this: Don’t stop for something to eat around St. Mark’s. We had two teas and it cost us €15. All of this aside, you can stay in Venice without getting ripped off; you just need to make sure that you spend your money off the beaten track - a trinket that costs €20 around St. Mark’s, will cost around €2.50 elsewhere. Make sure you see the museums around St Mark’s though.
Yes, I know you’re waiting to hear Cap’n P tell you something positive about American tourists but you’re going to have to wait a while. I met Brendan Gleeson too - what an excellent guy - but that will have to wait also.
We were lucky enough to have booked accommodation in a beautiful hotel in the Santa Croce area of Venice. It was a quaint little hotel called The Basilea on the Rio Marin and I can’t speak highly enough of the staff and the hotel itself. It’s well off the beaten track but a twenty minute walk from the Rialto Bridge and a fifteen minute walk from the bus station. As we arrived late, we decided to do a quick job of unpacking so that we could venture out and sample some Venetian beer. We didn’t have to go far. Right beside the hotel was a small little pub called Osteria Au Postali, which seemed to be a haunt for locals but they welcomed us in a friendly manner that I later discovered is typical of Venice. A pint and a Bacardi and coke came to €9, which is cheaper than anywhere in Ireland and we had the pleasure of sitting by the canal, drinking on a beautiful night - it had been around twenty two degrees that day.
The following day we went to St Mark’s square via the awesome Rialto Bridge. If you have a phobia about birds, do not go there as you will be surrounded by pigeons. I have nothing against them so it added to the ambience for me. St Mark’s square is simply magnificent. You can’t visit the Vatican or St Mark’s without being struck by two things. Firstly; how beautiful the architecture and artwork is and, secondly; how cruelty and opulence have always been the cornerstones of Catholicism. As a lapsed Catholic, neither escaped me but I refuse to get bogged down with semantics when presented with such an awesome sight. When you go inside the palace, you cannot help but be gobsmacked by the beauty of the artwork, the attention to detail in everything you look at and the fact that you cannot possibly take it all in. I don’t think in terms of Catholicism when I look at this artwork, I think in terms of talent and beauty. There is something profoundly spiritual about the sheer enormity of the task that those artists had. The Sistine Chapel in the vatican is another testament to Catholic over-indulgence, yet you can’t help but be humbled by the work. On your way out, you see the abject cruelty that is the legacy of Catholicism - the prisons. You can even see it outside the palace, where there are two beautiful pillars from which they used to hang thieves. There is a very real claustrophobic feeling about this section of the palace. You go from sublime beauty to absolute squalor. To exit, you walk across the bridge of sighs and can’t help but feel for those who walked it a thousand years before it became a tourist attraction knowing there was no exit for them but death. There are no security guards in this section because there is nothing to break or taint and it is here that you will be disgusted by the amount of graffiti. It is testament to the amount of morons who walked through there. An American tourist behind me commented to her husband how great it was to see the etchings of people who were here when it was a prison. I felt like telling her that markers hadn’t been invented a thousand years ago and that the likelihood of one of the prisoners deciding to declare his love for Manchester United whilst awaiting execution was extremely remote, but I refrained.
I could go on about St Mark’s and Venice in general but nothing I can tell you will relay just how beautiful it is. So on to our last night.
To my horror, the Osteria au Postali was closed on our last night. I was truly distraught and went into the hotel where the guy at the desk drew me a map to the nearest pub. On arrival, we saw that it was kind of an Irish pub called Cafe Bleu - so French/Irish I suppose. Now I normally avoid Irish pubs when I’m away from Ireland because … well … I’m Irish but I am truly glad that I decided to go in to this one. We took our seats and began what would be our last night of drinking in Venice when a man and woman walked in and sat next to us. Now there are some actors who are more concerned with celebrity and there are others who get on with doing great work without becoming a complete arse. Robert De Niro appears to be one. Al Pacino appears to be one. Liam Neeson appears to be one and Brendan Gleeson is definitely one. How do I know this? Because he sat and had a pint with us. I am a big fan of Brendan Gleeson. I think he lends instant credibility to anything he is in and so I was bracing myself for disappointment. I have met some of my heroes and more than half of them turned out to be complete dicks. This is why I had braced myself for similar disappointment. I’m thrilled to say that it never came. Brendan Gleeson is intelligent, learned, extremely interesting and a complete gentleman. We sat with him and his partner for hours, chatting about all manner of topics. He even informed me that Munster had won. I’m not going down the name-dropping route any longer but he made, what was already an amazing trip, spectacular. More power to you Mr. Gleeson. You are a credit to your profession, our nation and our species and I hope you continue to add to the hours of joy you have already brought to the Thirsty Kipper.
As you can imagine, we were more than a bit pissed when we left - much too pissed to consult the map. It took us five minutes to get to Cafe Bleu from our hotel but we had now been walking for about twenty minutes and were lost. At this point, I should tell you that it is nigh on impossible to get completely lost in Venice but you can end up getting kind of lost. Trusting in my pirate-instincts, we pressed forward and came upon a square where there were some American students trying to climb a church. We approached them and found them to be amiable sorts. The two church climbers abandoned their task and joined us and their other friends. I am sorry that I didn’t get all of their names but, suffice it to say; thank you Andrew and your band of wandering church climbers. We chatted about this and that and they really were a sound bunch of lads. They led us somewhere that still left us lost but we thoroughly enjoyed their company.
We got back to our hotel at some ungodly hour and spent the rest of the day, strolling through Venice with a hangover. The only real gripe I had with the whole trip was that someone decided to smoke in the toilet of the plane on our return trip. I mean what kind of fucking moron can’t wait just over two hours to have a fucking smoke? I don’t know who you are but, should you read this, you’re a twat!
In closing, I would encourage all of you to visit Venice. Try and take in Verona and Rome too. You only have one life; don’t waste all of it lying on a beach by day and getting hammered by night and seeing absolutely nothing.

Richard Curtis wrote Blackadder. Why am I telling you this? Richard Curtis wrote Blackadder and he also wrote Notting Hill and Four Weddings and a Funeral. Oh I can feel it. I’m going to go off on one.
For those of you who have ever been to Notting Hill, you will know that it is a multicultural place. In other words; it isn’t populated by cheery, foppy haired, middleclass white people. If your only experience of Notting Hill is the film, you would be forgiven for thinking it was so. Y’see, in this so-called enlightened 21st century, racism hasn’t gone away, it has just become more subtle. Why are all the cast of Notting Hill white? Because Richard Curtis obviously believes that no one is interested in the lives of black people. You can hug all the starving kids you want on T.V, Richard, if you don’t actually feel it it’s just a publicity stunt. I’m glad that money has been raised for people who should not be allowed to go hungry in the first place but, let’s face it, if any of those kids became a celebrated actor or actress, would you put them in one of your movies? Fuck no. Not while Hugh Grant is still fooling everyone. Bill Gates has given most of his fortune to help these people and he didn’t need the carrot of a TV soundbite to do it. He, like most of us, saw the pornography of cruelty and injustice that could be stopped if the governments of the wealthier nations actually gave a fuck and realised that he could make a huge difference. Bill Gates, I salute you.
When I was a kid, I idolised Phil Lynott. I didn’t even think about what colour his skin was because he was ours. He was Irish. He was The Rocker. The funny thing about racism is that the biggest racists spend a fucking fortune trying to make their skin darker. They go on sun holidays, wear factor .000000000002 and then come home unhappy with being lightly browned so go off and get a spray tan. The result is that their skin looks leathery and orange. Anyway, this rant was not supposed to be about racism because, if I start on that, I’ll turn the fucking air a healthy shade of fucking blue!!
Let’s get back to good ol Richard Curtis for a moment. Four Weddings and a fucking Funeral? I know the clue is in the title but what the fuck was that movie about? Here’s an idea for your next movie Richard: You get Hugh Grant, right, and you cast him as a foppy haird, wealthy, middleclass, unemployed piano tuner living in a penthouse studio apartment in Picadilly Circus. He’s dating a quirky, hippy-chick pigfarmer - played by Martine McCutcheon - whose catchphrases include, “don’t mind me, I’m a thick fucking bint” and “it better be Prada.” Their relationship is pedestrian at best and Hugh just can’t reconcile himself to a life of middle-aged, middle-class mediocrity. Enter Sharon Stone - as I’m sure many have - as a former superstar pianist, trying to relaunch her career in London. She’s engaged to a domineering, former Nigerian Ambassador named Faruq - played by Mike Reid - and she grieves daily about the lack of rommance in her life. One day she discovers that her priceless steinway is out of tune. She likens it to her lovelife. A montage of her former glories ensues and is set to a soundtrack of Cliff Richard singing, What Becomes of the Broken Hearted. She decides to call in a piano tuner. Enter Hugh. He’s in a bit of a quandry because he is supposed to have a date with Martine but he can’t turn the work down. “Bugger” he says.
In the meantime, Faruq - far from happy at the lack of attention he is getting from his wife - decides to go out with his mat, Mohammed - played by Jim Davidson. Hugh and Sharon fall in love - though it doesn’t manifest itself straight away but through a series of hilarious misadventures, punctuated by Hugh saying, “bugger” - and Faruq, Mohammed and Martine get it together with hilarious results. The film ends with a double wedding and, over the closing credits, we have Bryan McFatarse and Victoria Peckham singing a duet of Endless Love. Instant hit Richard. You can send my share of the royalties to Captain Purplehead, The Thirsty Kipper, Half way Around the Cape of Good Hope.
I mean, not only do we have to endure an hour and a half of utter shit, he ends one with Wet - fucking Wet - oh not again - Wet and the other with Ronan - will you fucking shut the fuck up - Keating singing cover versions of fucking horrible songs, which inevitably go to number one so that every time you turn on the fucking radio you have to hear the fucking things and then you go to work with a nagging pain in the back of your mind and take it out on your colleagues who say, “what’s up with you” and then you go on a rampage, stabbing everyone in sight with a fucking bic biro and then you go to court with an armed escort and they keep singing “I feel it in my fingers I feel it in my toes” all the way to the courthouse and you keep thinking, “what were they singing about, rheumathoid arthritis? Fucking shingles?” and the judge sentences you to seventy two hours community service, spent cleaning the puke out of the carpet in Teds before returning to his chambers singing, “Itsh amazshing how I get way with thish voish” and you get to Teds andthey keep playing the summer party album form nineteen eighty seven eventhough it’s November and it’s pissing and, on your lunch break, and you are made to read Jodie Marsh’s autobiography… AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH. DANTE’S FUCKING INFERNO SEEMS LIKE HEAVEN IN COMPARISON!!!!! You sadistic bastard Richard! What did the public ever do to you? Take a holiday, Richard, a fucking long one.
Now we come to chick lit. These are books about office girls with no self-esteem who eventually bag a hunk because of their strong, never say die spirits and their caustic wit. FUCK OFF!!!! With the possible exception of Marian Keyes, FUCK OFF!!! I won’t call it a variation on a theme because, whilst there certainly is a theme, there is little fucking variation. Bertie Ahern’s daughter has just signed a bumper fucking publishing deal and an even bumpier fucking movie deal with her chick lit offering, P.S I love you. Just look at the fucking title for fuck’s sake!!! Did she write a book about growing up with a crook for a father? No. Did she write a book about her take on the corruption she was helpless to stop? No. She should have called it “P.S I Screwed the lot of you” or “P.S I’ll get back to you as soon as I get my tongue out of George Wanker Bush’s Arse” or “P.S Thanks for the backhander” or “P.S stands for Pitiful State.” But no, she writes a fucking chick book. A formulaic pandering to women who should fucking know better. J.K Rowling is a wonderful author who is almost single-handedly responsible for making kids passionate about reading again. She has opened up a world for them and given them reason to believe that other authors can too. J.K Rowling received countless rejection letters from publishing companies and agents. Cecilia Ahern did not receive one. Jordan was invited to write a book. Ashley - who really gives a fuck - Cole was asked to write a book. Wayne Rooney was asked to write an autobiography before he was even twenty one. Ronan Keating has written TWO autobiographies and he isn’t even thirty yet! FFFFUUUUUUCCCCKKKK!!! I know that none of these idiots actually put pen to paper. No, they had someone else to write it for them but do you see something wrong with this picture?
As long as we’re entertained, we can be momentarily distracted from the dismal reality of what’s going on around us. Books and films are supposed to move you. They’re supposed to illicit a response. Books are now disposable pieces of rubbish. Films are now forgettable. Music is now FUCKING SHITE!!!!
I’m going to write a chick book. I’m going to call it, “If You Swallow Marmite, You’ll Swallow Anything.” Na, probably too long winded, “Sorry About The Pearl Necklace.” … Na, I’d never get away with that. “Louis Vitton Designed My Sack”. Na, too typical. I’ll get back to you on the t….. Wait a minute… “I’ll Get Back To You.” Perfect!! It’ll be about a bored housewife, working in the Social Welfare office who keeps losing people’s paperwork. Her life is pointless until a foppy haired, wealthy, middle-class, unemployed banana straightener who lives in Moyross comes in to her life. Richard; I think we’ve got another hit. I’m thinking “Gonna Write a Classic” covered by Will Young for the end credits.
We’re in the money. We’re in the money…… So long me hearties.

Sorry, this post has little to do with Shrek but, for those of you who felt a glimmer of hope for a second sequel, I can tell you that there are plans for at least two more Shrek movies and the Shrek III is in pre-production. This post is about an observation that my father made while watching Shrek with my nephew. Lord Farquat says, when sending his troops out on a dangerous mission, “Some of you may die but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” This statement is used to portray Lord Farquat’s reticence towards the lives of the people he governs and to expose his evil nature. Now what is the difference between Lord Farquat and Bush and Blair? Apart from the fact that he is computer generated, there is really no difference. Ok, I know that not all of them live in their own fairytale worlds but Lord Farquat kind of does. He believes he’s sexy… So he doesn’t live in such an elaborate fairytale world as Bush and Blair do but the similarities are still there. The most important one being his willingness to send his own people to their deaths for personal gain.
Does anyone remember when Labour was a left-wing party? It seems so long ago doesn’t it? I mean, how can you go from left-wing politics to fascism in the blink of an eye? For years Blair hid his real politics from the public behind his toothy smile and warm public persona but now his secret is out and he is losing popularity points hand over fist. This is why I think that it’s possible that these terrorist threats are maybe not as serious as they were made out to be. Even the wording evokes fear: “The terrorist alert has been down-graded to severe.” What could possibly worse than a severe threat? This is not to say that the threat of another terrorist attack in London is not a very real possibility - I believe that it’s only a matter of time before London is struck again - but the timing of the latest terrorist threats seem a little too perfect. The world has seen how efficiently these threats were dealt with and they say, “Fair play to Blair”. Am I being a little paranoid? I believe that they got a major whiff of a plot to blow up or hijack planes and blew the whole thing out of proportion to garner public confidence which has been lost because of the illegal invasion of Iraq. It’s also funny how this happened just as there was a public outcry for Britain and America to stop arming the Israelis. Major brownie points were lost because of the refusal of Bush and his lapdog to genuinely condemn the actions of Israel. Ok; so maybe I’m not being as paranoid as you first thought. Still, it’s a bollox of an inconvenience to subject your own people to. I really don’t believe that Blair sees it that way though. I believe that the obvious Ivory tower approach by Bush and Blair would preclude even the first seed of guilt to take hold. “We need to find a lasting peace in the Middle-East.” This is a line used by Bush and plagiarized by Blair. A lasting peace? Hhmm; let’s explore that statement for a second. What causes war? Hatred, sectarianism, commerce… Ok, so we can’t stop people from hating eachother but is there a way we could stop the needless carnage? So you can’t stop people hating eachother; how can you stop them killing eachother? Wait… I… I think I have it… STOP SELLING THEM FUCKING WEAPONS YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!
One of the wealthiest independent arms dealers in the world is a playboy in London. It has been alleged that the much put upon Heather Mills blew him for a couple of grand a few years ago. This fucker is a fucking London Socialite! You see; the British and American governments allow independent arms dealers to go about their business because they supply arms to small countries that they can’t be seen to arm. Said K Aburish lives in London and claims to be the man that helped America and Britain to arm Iraq. The interview apparently took place beside his indoor swimming pool. The only countries that have a record of pursuing and imprisoning independent arms dealers are Italy and Germany. The world’s largest arms dealers however, are still America, Britain, France, China and Russia. These countries are also the five permanent members of the U.N SECURITY Council. America and Britain have been arming - openly or covertly - every fucking tin-pot dictator from Saddam Hussein to Mavis the angry fish wife for fucking years! Am I still paranoid?
I believe that terrorism cannot be defeated but that we should never shirk our responsibility to try to defeat it. Suicide bombers are amongst the most curious. They believe that they will be rewarded in the after life with seven virgins. Well lads, after your first day, they’re just seven slappers so where do you go from there? Terrorists are cowardly, evil and deranged people who have no sense of moral responsibility. That makes Bush and Blair terrorists. Why is the west hated so much? Because the west keeps supplying guns to impoverished countries and those guns kill people. They do this so that they can tap into the natural resources of these countries. If a kid sees his family wiped out by British and American guns can we really blame that kid for taking up arms against them? Muslims have become victims of hate-crimes because of the rhetoric coming out of the Whitehouse and Downing Street. The vast majority of Muslims are peaceful and devout people who don’t condone terrorism.
Maybe the terrorist threat was as real as they said but don’t take it at face-value. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It takes an intelligent man to use power for good so why do we keep electing idiots? George Bush can’t even string a coherent sentence together. Ronald Reagan once said; “I’m proud to be here in Lima because Brazil has taught us so much.” He was speaking in Bogotá. Maybe he was trying to unite Peru, Brazil and Columbia. Of course, the Reagan administration was largely run by Oliver North who dealt directly with some of the most insipid independent arms dealers. My point is that we are supposed to trust our elected officials. They are supposed to take care of us. What Blair and Bush have done is put us in mortal danger. Our own Irish government is too spineless to distance themselves from America and Britain so Shannon is a very real target too. Voting is important but you should spoil your vote. Hang the government so the internal bickering turns into something more productive: cooperation.
Anyway; roll on Shrek III because we need a laugh.