Eoin Butler: writer, journalist and Mayoman of the Year
Tripping Along The Ledge
Dublin
Published: Irish Times, April 19 2008ALL MCWORK AND LOW PAY?
WHEN PEOPLE HEAR I’m working in McDonald’s, they react with a mixture of bafflement and horror. And who can blame them? The fast-food multinational has been blamed for everything from rising obesity rates and Third World exploitation, to Morgan Spurlock’s diminished sex drive.
Even the Oxford English Dictionary is taking potshots at the company these days. It defines a “McJob” as an “unstimulating, low-paid job with few prospects”, while, bizarrely, McDonald’s itself runs television ads that depict its employees being routinely ridiculed by their peers. As career moves go, then, the Golden Arches is hardly considered a golden ticket. Read the rest of this entry »
Published: Evening Herald, September 3 2009THE BIRD FLANAGAN
The Bird is a big old barn of a pub in Rialto. The barman sells us raffle tickets with our pints. What’s it in aid of, we ask? He looks back blankly. “Draw is at half ten,” he replies. Fair enough. It doesn’t get much more Dublin than this.
“This is the kind of place I like,” says Aidan, cradling his pint. “Local bar, you know?” Read the rest of this entry »
Published: Irish Times, February 9 2008THIS IS NOT A JOKE SHOP. THIS IS AN ADULT FETISH SHOP. SERIOUS SHOPPERS ONLY.
“This is not a Joke Shop” warns the sign at the entrance to Basic Instincts in Dublin’s Temple Bar. “This is an Adult Fetish Shop. Serious shoppers only.” It is with as much solemnity as I can muster then, that I press the buzzer and step inside. The shelves are stocked with adult DVDs, magazines and toys. Commanding pride of place at the front of the store though is a mind-boggling assortment of bondage and S.&M. paraphenalia.
This may not be a joke shop. But my basic instinct is to laugh. Nervously. Read the rest of this entry »
Published: Evening Herald, January 2010SOUTH WILLIAM
It’s Saturday night in South William and my almost-long-lost school friend Gerry the Bonnet is offering crash course reminder of why we drifted apart in the first place.
Suffering mother, how had I forgotten? He’s the most boring man in Ireland. Christ, you could drive a bus through some of the gaps in those sentences.
“I told the girlfriend… Tracy…. Tracy is the girlfriend,” he drones.
I know. Read the rest of this entry »
Published: Evening Herald, January 2010The Liberty Belle
It’s a wet and freezing Thursday night and Thomas Street is teeming with pretty, young things raucously celebrating… something or other. When you’re pretty and young, I suppose, you don’t really need an excuse.
We duck down Francis Street and stick our heads in the door of the Liberty Belle. There are football scarves hanging from the ceiling and a load of old drunks codgering at the bar. Read the rest of this entry »