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For the first time in living memory, the office becomes a hive of activity…

Expensive fragrances waft through the corridors. Hemlines rise inexoribly. In one corner of the office there appears to be an orange make-up death match underway – it’s like there’s a team of Oompa-Loompas suddenly pitching in! Read the rest of this article here.

Remove the Stone of Shame! Attach the Stone of Triumph!*

*It’s a Stonecutters/Chosen One joke. Ah, forget it… On a totally unrelated note, some American kid films his mother’s reaction to the latest American Idol finale. Wow, is all I can say.

Lame jokes Bob Dylan has told onstage while introducing his band (1988 – 2009)

“At the back, the meanest drummer in the world. When we played in the Middle East, he killed the Dead Sea… David Kemper!”

“You might be wondering what’s written on his shoes – those are foot notes!” Read the rest of this entry »

George Costanza’s Greatest Hits

1. “The Sea Was Angry That Day, My Friends” monologue (The Marine Biologist)
Jerry has set George up on a date. Since George is unemployed, Jerry (for some reason) has pretended that his friend is a marine biologist. During the date, George and his new love interest happen upon a beached whale. Earlier in the same episode, Kramer practices his drive by firing golf balls into the sea. Read the rest of this entry »

So my birthday party went pretty well…

Clearly, I’m one of Ireland’s swingingest journalists

Ireland’s first adult magazine has just hit the shelves. Blue Ireland bills itself as this country’s answer to Playboy. And it’s based in the salubrious, Hefner-esque surroundings of the Fonthill Industrial Estate in Clondalkin. The pool parties, no doubt, will be don’t-miss occasions.

This exciting news was broken in an email yesterday to an extremely select group of Irish journalists. We’re talking about half a dozen names. (The sender forgot to BCC.) I’m not going to name names, since they probably have no more idea how they ended up on it than I do. But I’m flattered to be among them. Clearly, my reputation Ireland’s swingingest journalist precedes me! Read the rest of this entry »

Obnoxious Rich Idiot Ponces Around City, Secretly Detested By All…

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You Belong To Me (1952)

Breakfast has long been a meal that nourished the Irish soul…

In times past, an Irishman might have awoken to find his potatoes blighted, his children exiled and his religion proscribed. But put a plate of rashers in front of him and things suddenly didn’t look so bad. Read the rest of this article here.

Randomers: an apologia

By throwing-out time on a Friday night, the streets resemble a ripped seam or a Hieronymus Bosch painting come to life. The footpaths teem with swaying bodies and grimacing faces. Some are belligerent. Others are content. Others still are lovelorn. Most are drunk. And some… Well, some of us are peckish since you ask. In the bars and clubs from whence we were ejected, dim lighting encouraged coyness and prevarication. Here however, in the unforgiving glare of the late night florescent chip shop, conversations tend to be blunt and to the point. Read the rest of this entry »