Dublin

“YOU KNOW THE WAY LIFE ISN’T FAIR, RIGHT?”

My phone is ringing. It’s Aidan. I might have guessed. “You know the way life isn’t fair..?” he asks. As opening gambits go, this is one of his better efforts. (The last time he rang with bad news, he said “You were never too fond of that coffee table, were you?”)

Immediately, my mind races through all sorts of horrific possibilities. Aidan has run over my dog. Aidan has impregnated my sister. Aidan has murdered my pregnant sister and run over my dog while making his getaway… It’s almost a relief when he coughs up the truth. Read the rest of this article.

ALL MCWORK AND LOW PAY?

WHEN PEOPLE HEAR that I’ve volunteered to work for a day in McDonald’s, they react with a mixture of bafflement and horror. And who can blame them? In the popular imagination at least, the fast-food multinational has been blamed for everything from rising obesity rates, to Third World exploitation, to Morgan Spurlock’s diminished sex drive.Read the rest of this article here.

“WE ARE LIVING IN A WORLD OF SHIT…”

…And other fond recollections of my Dating Boot Camp experience. Read the rest of this article here.

I’M A PEDESTRIAN

You know the way some people are motorists, and some are cyclists, and others are, I dunno, innocent bystanders? Well I’m a pedestrian. I don’t walk for the exercise or the love of it or any of that crap. I walk because, for me, it’s the optimal method of getting from A to B. Not just that, there are all those extra little perks: no monthly payments, tax, or insurance. There are no timetables, parking spaces or unbecoming head gear of any type. It’s free like the Luas, except that this train leaves when I say it leaves. And – because there are no strikes, signal failures or traffic jams – it’s only late if I’m late.

There’s just one problem: there are no Rules of the Footpath. Honestly, it’s like the Wild West out there. Read the rest of this entry »

NITELINK 69N: A CRITICAL ANALYSIS

The sights, sounds and smells of late night urban transportation are all powerfully evoked by Nitelink 69N (Westmoreland Street, 2.45am). The dialogue is crisp and authentic, with some riveting individual performances extracted from a cast of veritable unknowns. Read the rest of this entry »

WALTONS TO HANSARD: DROP DEAD

“Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice” sang Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova in the 2007 film Once. Two years on, that option may just have expired. Read the rest of this entry »

“TIME HAS NO MEANING HERE IN THE SEVENTH CIRCLE OF HELL, A PLACE WHERE EVEN DESPAIR DIES…”

Why do I despise Flannery’s pub on Camden Street? A candid response to that question could fill a 12-page pull-out supplement. Suffice to say: Off-duty Gardai. Off-duty nurses. Drunk off-duty Gardai copulating with drunk off-duty nurses. Fake tan. Peroxide. Rugby shirts. DJs with mid-Atlantic accents who say things like “It’s Saturday night in Flannery’s and the party is just getting started…” Read the rest of this article here.

Published: Mongrel Magazine, August 2004

FREE THE CHIP SHOP FIVE!

A grave injustice has been done. Five young men have been punished for a crime they had very little to do with. Barred for life from Marco’s Take Away in Stoneybatter (the fast food outlet of choice for a new generation), tut-tutted at by every pain-in-the-hole auld one in a two mile radius, and for what? The muddled testimony of a henpecked chip shop owner? The palsied lies of his stubby-fingered wife? Read the rest of this entry »

Published: Irish Times, March 15th 2008

Welcome to Brokesville

Ireland 2008: The champagne has been guzzled. The punchbowl is an ashtray. And there’s a strange girl crying in the bathroom. With analysts predicting the slowest economic growth this year since 1991, it looks as though the party is finally over. There’s no avoiding it. As a nation, its time to locate our jackets, make our excuses and flag a taxi back to Brokesville. Read the rest of this entry »

MONDAY NIGHT PINT

It’s closing time on Monday night and Declan and I are sitting in front of at a pair of empty glasses. For the last five minutes, he has been engaged in a freewheeling mobile phone conversation.

“Ah, not a lot now” he’s saying. “Myself and Butler are finishin’ a pint in Grogans. Just scratching our balls to be honest. Probably head home after and see if herself is feeling frisky…”

Then person on the other end says something and Declan makes a face.

“Sorry, who am I speaking to?” he inquires. Read the rest of this entry »