Eoin Butler

David Norris would make a terrible, terrible president

Being president of Ireland is a bit like playing in goal for Barcelona. There isn’t much to do most of the time. But when there is, it’s rather important not to fuck it up. The presidency of Mary McAleese has been exemplary in that respect. She’s been in the job fourteen years. Off the top of my head, I can recall only two things she did in all that time.

In the wake of September 11th 2001, she conveyed Ireland’s heartfelt sympathy to the United States, while also (gently) advocating a restrained, proportionate response to the attacks. Ten years later, during a visit by the British monarch, she delivered one note-perfect speech, and four heroic days of inane chit-chat, on the nation’s behalf. Read the rest of this entry »

Published: Irish Times, 17 May 2008

Ring Them Bells

“We’re a little short on numbers tonight,” laments Ian. “Lesley is on his holidays, Vivian’s gone salsa dancing. I’m not sure where Gayle’s gotten herself to.” Read the rest of this entry »

Sugar Baby Love (1974)

So brilliant. So ridiculous.

“To be fair, we did just whizz past in a bright pink discotheque on wheels. He might have been a little bit distracted.”

‘I THINK I went to school with that guy,” mutters 28-year-old Chris Dunne of Absolute Limos as he navigates a roundabout in Clondalkin, west Dublin. Its 8pm on Saturday and we’re en route to the first pick-up of the night. When the passerby does not return his salute, Dunne is disappointed. “He didn’t even acknowledge me!”

To be fair, I point out, we did just whizz past in a bright red discotheque on wheels. He might have been a little bit distracted. Read the rest of this entry »

Student hack (belatedly) bites back!

I can’t help noticing that Eoin Butler has billed this piece as some sort of revenge or competition between myself and himself with his title “Student hack bites back”. I am saying from the outset that I have no intention of “biting back.”

Looking back now, I wish I had chosen to interview someone a bit safer than Eoin for this article. The bottom line is that I thought Mongrel was a hilarious magazine and decided it would be cool to interview one of their writers for this assignment I had.

Read the rest of this entry »

Lame jokes Bob Dylan has told onstage while introducing his band (1988 – 2011)

“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 »

Published: Mongrel magazine, August 2007

I Was Glenda Gilson’s Stalker

Mea culpa. It was I, Arthur Vandelay, with an address at Manor Street, Stoneybatter, and an envelope in Ballyhaunis, Co. Mayo, who stalked the model Glenda Gilson. It was I, a humble window cleaner, who knowingly and with malicious intent, bombarded her with nuisance phone calls, nuisance social calls and convenience foods.

Who gatecrashed glitzy film premieres waving stacks of homemade sandwiches, shouting “Wait Glenda, wait! You forgot your sangwiches!” Who heckled her in the Vagina Monologues, claiming she was actually born a man. And I who finally, when confronted by the gardai, turned my interlocutors’ very accusations back upon them, by use of the cunning mantra “I know you are, but what am I?” Read the rest of this entry »

Notes from overground

My friend Rick says I should write more about my day-to-day life. I’m not entirely convinced. Sometimes I tell my mother about my day-to-day life. She doesn’t tell me fuck off I’m boring her to death exactly. But you can read between the lines. She always sounds caught unawares when I stop talking.

Well, she’ll say. Sure isn’t that always the way? Read the rest of this entry »

Those last minute Leaving Cert revision tips in brief…

The countdown to the Leaving Cert is almost at an end. A month from now, when 138,000 nervous students sit down for their first examination, they’ll know their chances of securing a university place, well-paid job, desirable home, attractive sexual partner and prospects of siring anything other than ugly, unintelligent children rest entirely on how they perform in the weeks ahead. Read the rest of this article.

America (1956)

This is a recording of Allen Ginsberg reading his poem America (from ‘Howl’), set to Tom Waits’ Closing Time instrumental, which is itself taken from the latter’s 1973 debut album. If that’s not confusing enough, the track is illustrated for this YouTube treatment with photographs of Jack Kerouac. I’ve no idea why. Read the rest of this entry »