Eoin Butler: writer, journalist and Mayoman of the Year
Tripping Along The Ledge
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Before I begin, I’d like to address a few words to the Garda Road Traffic Corps…
Officers, lads… I know we’ve had our differences. We’ve both said things that, in the light of day, we probably regret. But look what you’ve reduced me to. I’m using public transport. Dear God, hasn’t this madness gone far enough? Read the rest of this article here.
This is Funny
I accidentally sent a photograph of my penis to everyone in my address book today. Read the rest of this entry »
Miscellaneous Amusing Items I’ve Come Across #28
Okay, I got this from Mark Little’s Twitter feed. It came to his attention via multiple sources…
No wait, I’m pretty sure I can crawl my way out of this…
“She’s still seeing that guy with the Land Rover?” “Yup!” Read the rest of this article here.
Your Ma: A Critical Perspective
There has been a tendency in recent times to recalibrate the matriarch by endowing her with glamour, sophistication or sex appeal. Unapologetically bucking this trend, however, is your Ma: a gormless, rotund but ultimately lovable woman, who makes a persuasive case that the best path forward for the Irish Mammy lies not in elegance or refinement, but in understatement and verisimilitude. Read the rest of this entry »
A Six-Pack to Go (1960)
Los Ballyhaunis Galácticos [Updated]
Flying out to Madrid this afternoon. There’s intense speculation I’m being offered a multimillion euro contract to link up with Ronalda and Kaka at the Bernabéu. I can neither confirm nor deny these rumours. There may also be rumours that I’m actually going on a pretty tame weekend break with my mother. Again, I can neither confirm nor deny those rumours. (Sufficed to say, if its anything like our Roman jolly in October, well, I’m in for a rollercoaster ride. Of Mass.) Read the rest of this entry »
It’s something we’ve been talking about for ages…
A boyhood dream, I suppose you’d say. And now that we’re all on the dole, it’s really the ideal time to get cracking. Read the rest of this article here.
Saeta (1960)
“Who were your influences, hair-wise, back in the day?”
“My influences, my influences… Bobby Charlton…? No, not him. I can’t think of the guy’s name now. Hold on, your mother might remember…” Read the rest of this article here.