Mongrel Magazine

Published: Mongrel Magazine, November 2007

The Mongrel Guide to Being a Bad Ass

I’ll be honest, this is one of the most half-assed feature I’ve ever written. Mongrel ed Michael Freeman wanted me to write a feature entitled ‘Reasons to be Cheerful’. Mike was a great editor, one of the best I’ve ever had, but this was a misjudgement on a par with commissioning a ‘Live and Let Live Has Always Been My Philosophy’ op-ed from Pol Pot. Anyway, the ‘bad ass’ idea was kind of a last minute compromise. Read the rest of this article.

Elvis… is it yourself?

Mission: Trick a Psychic into Contacting Someone Who Never Existed
Purpose: My own amusement
Venue: Georges Street Arcade
Time: 13.57, 13/11/2003
Tools: Concealed microphone
Miscellaneous: Feeling peckish, may get a sandwich later Read the rest of this entry »

Rob and Antoine are sleeping in the back seat. I’m up front, taking the brunt of the conversation.

“Two hundred fifty euro per month my son in Krakow earn, yes? First month in Buncrana is two thousand euro.” Like practically everyone we meet in Poland, Boguslaw has family working in Ireland. His new grandson is even an Irish citizen. “Of course, Donegal very beautiful. Atlantic Ocean very beautiful. But Spire of Dublin? Why you waste all money on this piece of shit?” He seems to expect some sort of answer. Oh, God… Read the rest of this article here.

Life is not a Mongolian Restaurant

If you should ever find yourself in a Mongolian restaurant, take a bowl and make your way to the table where the uncooked meats and vegetables are laid out. Its there somewhere, look around. Fill the bowl with whatever you want, and then pass it to the mean looking man with the long sticks. He’ll throw it on top of a clay oven and shuffle it around until it’s cooked. Then, with the deftest of touches, he’ll deposit the resulting stew into your bowl.

Now all you have to do is find yourself somewhere to sit down and you can stuff your face. Read the rest of this entry »

They don’t stand on ceremony in this house? For shame.

Urgh. Posting this today mainly because (a) it was requested by regular reader Gueuleton and (b) I’m about to go on holidays tomorrow and haven’t time to write anything new. I should mention that this was published quite a few years ago now and that I don’t necessarily stand over one single word of it today. Except the bits that are funny, obviously. Read the rest of this entry »

The Fantastic Mr Dahl

Came across this article (and this one) yesterday morning. I met Roald Dahl once when I was a child. He was doing a book signing in Kenny’s bookshop in Galway and my parents brought us along. You had to buy a book if you wanted to meet him. I bought the only book by him in the shop that I’d hadn’t read already: Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. Read the rest of this entry »

Readers letters

Dear Eoin,

I’ve never been lucky when it comes to love. My first husband Michael was great with the kids and the sex was fantastic. But one day he ran off with my best friend Tracy and the contents of our bank account.

I found new love with Dan. He was great with the kids and the sex was fantastic. But one day he ran off with my brother-in-law Pete and the contents of my lingerie drawer.Read the rest of this article here.

Email to my editor. 2003:

FROM: Eoin Butler
SENT: 09 October 2003 10:37am
TO: [email protected]

Hey Sam,

Possible feature idea. (I have a shit job. They don’t monitor my work very closely here.)

Read the rest of this entry »

No To Racism In The Workplace Week

Renegade TV weatherman MARTIN KING and reclusive IRA wordsmith P. O’NEILL teamed up in the Burlington Hotel this week for the launch of No To Racism In The Workplace Week 2006. Once again this year volunteers from around the country are being asked to refrain from being racist at work for one week, with all proceeds going to the National Children’s Hospital. Read the rest of this entry »

Oh, he’s a petulant one alright!

When I first heard DECLAN O’ROURKE’s ‘It’s a Big, Bad Beautiful World’, it seemed as though the singer had somehow smashed open my skull, extracted my inimitable brand of jaded romanticism and physically pounded it into song format. So when tickets for ‘An Evening With Declan O’Rourke’ went on sale then, I was naturally first in the queue brandishing a Kalashnikov rifle. Read the rest of this entry »