Rage are Number 1

'Some of those that work forces, are the same that burn crosses'

Never was there a truer word spoken. If I had one thing that Santa could of brought down the chimney and placed rapped under the tree with a giant bow this Christmas it would be Mr. Simon Cowell, just to hear what he has to say about the fact that instead of Joe from X Factor rocking it at the top of this years Christmas singles charts, it is the slamming bass of Timmy C, crashing sound of Brad Wilk’s Drums, the perfection of Tom Morello’s guitar and the venomous rhymes of Zach De La Rocha. Probably one of the most important and influential band of the last twenty years, Rage Against The Machine.

Rumours are now circulating that he has now offered the lads who came up with the idea of getting Rage to No. 1 a job. This is proves how much of a cunt he really is. You missed the point completely Simon, completely. It wasn’t some piece of marketing genius, all it was, was a couple of people pissed off at what you have been doing. You, with a few others, have slowly raped the music industry to a point that it has come to this. There is a reason why Killing In The Name Of is the tune they picked to promote as the other option for Christmas Number 1 this year, it wasn’t because they wanted to revive a quality tune and re-market it or that they thought that this would be one of those great Christmas anthems that we all know and love, it’s because it is everything that you and your little Cliff Richard look-a-like are not.

I’m sure Simon Cowell is a lovely bloke, full of charisma and he is as charming as fuck but he is the personification of a cunt. If you look at his track record it will physically make you chill, it is that bad, there is nothing there with an ounce of artist merit what-so-ever and you know what, I love watching the X Factor, I love it and I love him on it, he cracks me up with the cuntification that come out of him. I have no qualms about saying I was rooting for Olly all the way and as for Jedward, I think I was the only one of my mates who loved them from the start but its all shit when you look at it seriously. I would occasionally feel a slight ting of guilt ever time I watched it but I still did but when I look at it past that show its self, I just want to break things.

'Believin' all the lies that they are tellin' ya
Buying all the products that they are selling ya
They say jump
Ya say how high
Ya brain dead
Ya gotta fuckin' bullet in your head

There is also a rumour going around that – Ah well, Epic Records, the record company that put out that song originally, are owned by Sony so, if you think about it, the fat cats won and my answer to that is NO! They didn’t. If people like Simon Cowell are watching this going on and not feel that what they are doing is shit, then they should be hung drawn and quartered, alarm bells have to be ringing. I would love to think that Simon Cowell and all the others were just going – ‘It’s just a business, we are in it just to make money.’ But I don’t think they do, I really think that they think what they are doing is amazing and that this is the best there is. And all the other conspiracy theories that the record companies organized this. What a load of my ball bag. They are not that clever. This, I believe, is a massive moment in commercial music. Look at the date. It will be the last number 1 of the Naughties.

The Naughties! What a laugh!, What a laugh! Yes, there has been some savage shit, But get the boat. That Strokes album got album of the decade, yeah, yeah, I think that album is quality, but get the Stenna, ye know. Let’s get our shit together, seriously. Look at all the other decades. I’m trying not to be one of these overly romantic nostalgic cunt but man, if you look at the rest of them, forget it. And, I know, people always say you have to wait until you’re out of it to realise how good it was. I’m sorry; I loved the nineties when I was in it. Nirvana, Rage, Prodigy, Oasis, Daft Punk, Happy Mondays, Blur, Pearl Jam, Supergrass, Soundgarden, Chemical Brothers, Orbital, Jamariqui (or what ever the right spelling is for that shit), Silverchair, well maybe not Silverchair, Radiohead, all of these bands had massive commercial success and they were fuckin savage, and they probably needed help with their balls, they were so big and they met the bar in terms of quality. You look at the eighties, seventies, sixties and fifties and it’s the same.

And I know pop music is supposed to be shit, wait, stop, hold on a second, no it isn’t. Nothing is supposed to be shit or half ass or badly written or badly sung or cheesy or whatever. There is no excuse. I don’t know why people get into it and not go ‘Let’s try and write something quality, instead of doing the usual bollix that we have been doing for years.’

I am just so happy that something like this has happened, hopefully this can be one of the things that can trigger the end of this Big Brother, Heat Magazine, celebrity loving, cuntish, balless little time, once and for all and maybe, just maybe, in twenty years time, we will look back on it as freaky time and maybe, it might be cool because cool is the fucking last thing it is, or was.

Whoever you are who did that facebook campaign - Fair Fucks To You

No Laptop

Leaving your laptop in a mates gaf is a real pain in the tits, especially when you write a daily blog. It basically stops. I went out the day of my last post, up to Pygmalion, to see Hugh Cooney's Weekly Comedy Show but little did I realise that stuff around Christmas changes and it was some other night on. I have been promising Hugh I would be down to his night and the night that I finally get up off my arse, the fucker is not on.

So, anyway, I sit up at the bar and order a . . . . . . . . Oh shit, the girl that owns this laptop wants it back . . . . . . . . . . Fuck sake, I cant wait to get my laptop back. I am so getting back tonight. I'm sick of this.

Alan Hughes - Journalist Extraordinaire

Came in this morning to work to be shown an article in the Sun written by Ireland AM's, Alan Hughes, A Dublin Panto Guide, he gave quick review of the 4 main pantomimes going on in Dublin at the moment. So, not that I give a shit about what anyone says about our show, it's just that what I realised is this guy is the producer of the one in the tivoli and not only that, but he rates his own 10 out of 10 and all the other 7 out of ten, one of those being the Olympia one which only openned last night. He hadn't even seen it. His bloke is going down. I felt compelled to write a stern email to him and the Sun. This is what I wrote -

Dear the Star & Alan Hughes,

I just wanted to start by saying congratulations for the review on what Ireland has to offer in terms of pantomimes this Christmas. I found it insightful and a truly useful guide for anyone who is struggling over which panto to choose.
I particularly loved the very generous 7 out of 10 you gave the Olympia panto, which I haven't seen. Oh wait, no one has seen it because it had its first show last night. Alan, I applaud your psychic skills and if I ever want to become a producer in the future, I'll just come to you before rehearsals start and you can give me your 'out of 10' rating and I can tell whether or not to go ahead with production.
I also loved the 8 out of 10 you gave the Helix panto, the two points were dropped for the lack of a star, and that it was more of a musical, if only that low budget, independent production had the cash to afford a talented star that has the calibre and charisma of Brian from Big Brother. If only.
And Alan, you gave your own show 10 out of 10, how can you show your face in public, the embarrassment is so massive and not only that but you
put down the competition, oh my god.
And when I think of The Star newspaper, if ever your rag had any more integrity, it is now. 'Let’s do an article on the Dublin City pantos and let’s ask Alan Hughes to write it. Did you not know that he was invested in one of the shows? Did you not wonder why he gave his own show 10 out of 10? Did you not realise that he was reviewing a show that hadn't opened yet? Did anyone even read this amazing piece of journalism? I doubt it, well, I really do, I really hope so anyway.
I am treble morto for you, lads, treble. I had to write to you after reading it. Please, write back some sort of a reaction to my email, I really want to know your side of the story but until then, the cast and crew of the Gaiety Panto laughs at you and that review and we will keep laughing about it until, I don't know, something a little more interesting happens.

Your Sincerely

Jack Olohan AKA the Back of Daisy the Cow & the Giant

But do you know what is so morto for me, I sent it to The Star instead of The Sun, quatro morto for me, fuck, I'll send it onto Sun now. Shit, now , I have to send an email of apology to The Star. . . . . Wait a minute, the star are a bunch of cunts as well, so fuck that . . . . but still Mortification City, USA for me.

Anyway, does anyone have any chuns?

FXB of Temple Bar

Finished up the panto, last night, at 9pm and I was dying too wined down. Sadly, I was being asked by pretty much all my colleagues if I fancied a karaoke night in Sinnotts. Now, me and karaoke have never gone hand and hand. I used to go out to these ones over in the woolshed on Parnell St. with a few mates until I realised it was shite. When I am locked the last thing I should be doing is performing, I can just see it, my name being called, everyone screaming with enthusiasm but, in truth, lowly chuckling in excitement for the fact that they are about to witness one of their mates drunkenly get up on stage and sing his own horrible rendition of ‘Let’s Go Outside’ by George Michael. No thanks!

As I left i was ‘Yeah, just popping out to see Tara, I’ll catch you in Sinnotts.’ Yeah, right. Myself and Tara meet up and it is official, we both could not get any more starving if we tried. I ask ‘What do you reckon?’ ‘I don’t know,’ she says ‘I don’t want another burger or Chinese or Italian, where can you get a good steak?’

As soon as the word steak was spoken that was it, we were having steak. The finest steaks known to mankind. We started racking our brains where to go, it had to be the perfect place, we were gonna go hell for leather. Where was a place that could possibly serve up the type of steak that could measure up to the flavour that was being imagined in our mouths already, and as we got to the corner of George’s St., Tara spoke just 3 letters

FXB

The two of our eyes lit up

Yeah, we used to walk by it when we lived in temple bar, strolling by it and never had the fundage or balls to head in and spend a fortune. Everytime we passed it one of us would always say ‘FXB, we’ll have to in go there sometime.’ And the other would sing back ‘Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love you, Tomorrow, it’s only a day away.’

And let me tell you all, tomorrow has arrived

We sat down and we said to each other ‘Let’s go fucking mental’

Tara ordered mussels to start and I asked for a board of homemade bread with an array of dips.

For the main, I immediately pointed to 12 oz Dry Aged Rib Eye Steak and Cajun String Onions with mashed potatoes, and with fear in her eyes, Tara ordered the 10z Dry Aged Sirloin Steak with chips

To drink there was only one thing that I could think about and it was an ice gold bottle of Budvar, Tara asked the waitress what red wine she would recommend and the she seemed to know what she was talking about, fucked if I did.

At this stage, both our mouths were watering to a point of dribbling, the gargle arrives and I nearly neck the bottle, it was that tasty. Tara seems to be enjoying the wine and was begging me to try some but I hate red wine, and even if it is good, I’ll probably still hate it. . . . . . I tried it and hated it.

I then have one of those Pulp Fiction moments where you come back to the table from having a smoke and the food is awaiting your return. Tara is digging into a surprisingly large bowl of mussels that she claims are the best mussels she has had in a very long time. She is mad for the mussel, on many of occasions we have travelled the length and breath of Dublin looking for a place that serves decent mussels. I do not see the attraction; I think it looks like snot or something.

I sit back down and start to nibble into my beard and dips, about 5 slices of brown and 5 slices of white surrounding three dips, humus, pesto & some blackcurrant sauce which I wasn’t mad on but the humus & pesto was the shit, especially the humus. We both had to stop our starters in fear that we might be full for our main course so I ordered another beer just to make things interesting.

Anyway, the moment came . . . . . . The main courses . . . . . . . the plates were presented with the meat lying on there own in the centre, and along came the side orders and the sauces. Jesus, my mouth is watering just writing this shit. My fried onions was covering my steak and Tara was eyeing them up as hers wasn’t served with them. I through her a few fork fulls of them, poured out some pepper sauce and I carve my off my first piece. I was borderline turned on with the flavours. Even though I was sitting down, I can assure you, I was giving a standing ovation.
We didn’t talk much for the meal, just moaned occasionally in sheer pleasure or maybe say how much we were enjoying it to ourselves. We weren’t rushing it but just giving it 100% attention. The pepper sauce was amazing aswell and went perfect with my budvar.

When the bill came we were pleasantly surprised when it can to €75. Dear for a random Thursday night but it was well worth it. We swiftly got a cab home, excited to hook up a new bought DVD player but sadly we were asleep as soon as our arses hit the bed – a deadly night all round

Meal - €90 Taxi - €12 Jacko Snuggles - Priceless

Radio Made Me Gay

Over the last year, myself, Tara, Aaron & Greg have been trying to promote a web-site of ours through a number of night around Dublin and after the first year, all I have to say is, that in this time in our economic climate, to get people up, out and into your night is not as easy as it looks. Trying to fill places on a week day is nearly impossible. People are just not going out anymore, except . . . . . Gays.

I randomly went out with a load of people from the panto last night, a Tuesday, to go to the Break for the Border Gay Night, Glitz, which has been running for years and if I were to say the place was rammed, it would be an understatement. It is the way forward. I’m defo gonna try an look into throwing a gay night somewhere. A gay night with decent gay music. That is one of the big problems with gay bars, the music is shite. And I know what everyone is saying, (Everyone, I’ve got some cheek. You would swear hundreds of people are reading this crap) that this is gay music – Britney, Christina, Kyle, Cheryl etc but I think that is bullshit and let me tell you why.

When the show came down we all chilled in the green room for a few before heading out and all it was playing on the stereo was all that poppy crap and people weren't even listening to it. On my way back from the jacks, I thought to myself, I'll just plug in my laptop into the sound system and throw on some disco mix that Aaron had thrown together last week. It kicked in and literally the room went off. People dancing on couches, this is not an exaggeration. They were loving it and they had never heard it before.

Of course, if you were to throw a gay night, you would have to play some cheesey pop tunes to begin with, slowly bring in the good stuff, earn the love but once they think you’re fabulous, you could start lashing out some savage shit and if you’re lucky you might even get a mouth full of meat. Also the place would be jammers, any day of the week you fancy throwing it. I can just see Aaron Dempsey, Dave MacDonagh & Russell Simmons lifting weights in the DJ booth, camping it up to the max,

I will throw this night, and I am gonna forget about these bull shit straight nights.

Also there would be very little chin scratching at these things, no nerdy chatter about labels and equipment. It would just be a load of funky fuckers madge out of it, dancing away and trying their best to reach for the lasers.

I can’t wait - Radiomade Me Gay - I can see it now

Its Offical

On my way home from work on Sunday, I decided to pop into the Bernard Shaw to meet up with my mate, Aaron, who was checking out Funktion and it seem like a quality idea after the day I had. It was a gruller on the panto, a half one show & a half six show and I hadn’t had any kip from the night before.

I came home on the Saturday night to find Tara’s Christmas party in full swing and it didn’t look like ending for at least the next 12 hours so, of course, I jumped head first into it. Foolishly, 12 noon rocked around and I never even thought to get that all important sleep that could of made my day a lot easier. I was too busy discussing in great detail the positive aspects rape, cock & paedophiles with some of my closest friends.

But going on some sort of Red Bull & coffee second wind, that must of been sparked by the last couple of minutes of the X Factor final in the green room, I strolled into the Shaw. It was the typical 12 Sunday with the usual heads, not too packed - nice and Funktion, this 8 piece funk band that we know, were leathering it out. I walk out to the smoking section and I see a load of mates, and I says to myself – ‘Deadly, what a brilliant idea coming here.’

But let me tell you, a good night was about to turn into a revelation as I strolled out into this new section that they have opened in the place, the area where the bus is parked, that sells pizza. Sitting there looking at me in the face, smiling – a hot tub, the same hot tubs that myself and Wah found in the Body & Soul at the Electric Picnic. Let me tell you, within seconds, I was in my boxers and prepare myself for 2 hours of chilling the fuck out.

Sadly, I had to wait for a few minutes for it to cool down but then myself, Conor L, Kirwan & Jono made the plunge. There I sat in the Bernard Shaw in the middle of December, in a hot tub, sipping an ice cold bottle of Budvar, chugging smokes and I thought to myself, ‘Why hasn’t anyone else ever thought of this before, this is the shit.’ This better be a permanent fixture in the Shaw because it is official there is no pub in this town that fucking touches that place.

Here is a note to all you other pubs in Dublin – ‘Get your shit together!’

Bobo's of Camden St.

As I have been roped into playing one half of Daisy the Cow (the arse end) in this years, Gaiety Panto, Jack & the Beanstalk, I have been more and more driven to the finest burgers in town. It must be method acting or something but I have now visited Bobo’s of Camden Street twice this week and I am slowly coming around to the fact that they are probably the tastiest burgers your gonna find in this town.

Yes, it is pricey but, ye know what, I’m working now and I can finally afford it and if you can it is so worth it. All these places like Gourmet Burger & Joe Burger, I’m never that amazed, I’m no where near a full boner but in Bobo’s you can forget it. I feel embarrassed standing up its that mouth watering.

You are stuck for choice, and every burger has very unique to the next. That’s what I hate a load of burgers on a menu with a these funky names that bar a tomato here and a piece of bacon here, it’s pretty much the same burger. Bobo’s have the funky names and have the strange fillings to make each one a different experience to the next. My picks have got to be the Slaw Burger; the homemade coleslaw is the shit, and the Diorai, Aka the Mexican, which is covered in the tastiest chilli. I’m going through a bit of an obsession with chilli at the moment, thanks Paddy.

If I was to say anything negative about the place, it’s a bit Baltic, every time someone enters or exits the place gets brass monkeys but maybe its just I’m sitting next to the door. Yeah, that might have something to do with it.

The waiting staff was sound as well, very chatty but couldn’t understand what I was saying when I pathetically tried to flirt with her, but I think she might of fancied me because she laughed when I laughed, Someone kill me now

The toilets were quiet comfy. After the meal I graced the jacks with a lovely Rathfarnham Roaster that I was brewing most of the day and I found it to be a pleasurable experience as they pumped in Stone Roses – Second Coming. The toilet paper was the quite up market and did the job to perfection. Afterward as I sat on the toilet I wanted to hear the last tune – Love Spreads so I decided to finish of my stay with a quick wank and off I popped.

I paid up, left a healthy tip and I left with sun on my face, the wind on my back and a smug smile on my mush. I’m sure I will be dawning the door of that place sometime in the near future

I Love the Luas

Myself & Tara are currently searching for a new gaf, the lease on our place in Terenure is up in January and I want to move closer to town, well, when I say move closer to town, I mean move past Terenure crossroads, coming from Tempelogue to Terenure is the biggest fucking nightmare in the world. You can be sitting there in that traffic for up to twenty minutes and you will have moved about 5 metres and when you get by that little bit, its is smooth sailing all the way to work. It has annoyed me to a point that I will not move anywhere south of that crossroads.

I stayed over in my mates gaf in Drundrum last night and let me tell you sleeping on a Budda Bag is not as nice as you'd think, I have never woke up so many times in my life and every time it was something different, my arm, then my chest, then back.
I got up at about quarter to nine to leave for nine, shower, shit and out the door and I realise I can get the Luas.

I was in town in, no joke, fifteen minutes . . . . . from Dundrum. This is the answer to all my problems; the idea of waiting for another poxy bus is a hideous thought. I have now got to get me a gaf on this line. How is this service going on in my city and I don't take advantage. The Luas what a great fuckin idea.

And I have to say, I love the Dog the Bounty Hunter clones they have guarding me as I trek to work, Jesus, I feel so safe with those guys around, I just want to go over and tickle them and see what they do. What do these dudes’s think is going to happen on the dangerous trip from Cowper to Windy Arbour,

I wonder if they are hiring, there is nothing that would be more therapeutic than cracking one of those batons over some scauldy little shit

Is It Me Or Is It Them

I am finding it more and more difficult to speak to people and I don't know if it's them or me.

Every since I can remember socialising as being a thing to do in my life, was never a problem. Ye know, I am bad at a lot of things but talking shite to people is not one of them but now people are starting to irritate me more, I feel less empathy. Even when people used to say something unfunny or uninteresting I would give them a charity laugh or give them a look of absolute concentration, just to be polite or maybe because I don't want to let them know how embarrassing they really are. I humour them on and hope to Christ that they fuck off. But now . . . . ?

I have been working on the panto and because of that I have been going to these theatre events such as Dublin Theatre Forum Christmas Party, The Panto Openning Night, and The Gaiety Theatre Christmas Party and let me tell you, I used to love these things. I felt involved when I went to these things but always felt out of place for some reason but still I loved it. People in theatre are nuts, they are larger than life, quick-witted characters and I loved it ever since I was a kid. But I have now been doing this professionally now for 7 years and the excitement is starting to fade. Ye know why? Because I am coming around to the fact that I have fuck all to say to anyone any more. I have no interest.

But this is what I am trying to figure out, do people think I'm a cunt or do I think they are and the conversation is just not worth it any more. Ye know what? I think it’s a little bit of both but more so the latter.

For years, my folks always said to me, 'I don't know why your going into this business, it a horrible business.' and for years, in my head, I'd say 'What are they talking about? It's deadly crack.' and it's only now I am realising that there are more cunts than cool people in it.

When you meet the cool people, they are the best, sound as fuck and more crack than you can have with a person. They will be your mate for the rest of your life but honestly they are few and far between. You will meet the biggest egos, the rudest bastards and the most self centred cunts you are ever likely to meet. And I know what you must be thinking, this guy is one bitter bloke well, you know what, I'm not. I had it handy in this business. I've got away with murder. I'm just bored of it.

The bottom line of what I'm trying to say is - Can everyone just stop being such a cunt and would ever just GET OVER THEMSELVES! Your living in Dublin, please stop because my toes are curling up the wrong way.

Getting Ould . . . . I think!

I'm currently, aswell as working as an assistant stage manager, I'm playing the Giant & the back arse of Daisy the Cow in this years Gaiety Panto, Jack & the Beanstalk which I had done four years previously. Last time, I used to do it hungover, drunk, mad out of it, whatever and it never bothered me. Not a bother on me. We used to be up all night, off our tits and the idea of it effecting you was a joke. All you wanted was the show to end and head straight back to the pub.

Last night, I went right home after the show, was in bed by midnight and I got a solid 8 hours kip, I fell out of the bed wrecked, holding body parts. I then went into work for the lovely 11 o clock morning shows for the schools and by the end of the show I was doused in sweat and so tired I passed out in the green room for 3 fucking hours. I am physically fucked.

It is now Friday evening, I have a show at 7.30 and I am considering if I really want to go out tonight. . . . . . Its fucking Friday night, I haven't gone out all week and I am considering whether I am gonna go out tonight, what the fuck is wrong here? I just got paid yesterday, and I know really need to get fucked, I haven't got madge in about a month and a half and let me tell you, I don't feel as good as Id thought.

Let's get mouldy, gonna try and sort something out, maybe that will motivate me to get annihilated

Throwing My First Poker Night

I am about to use my blog to hopefully promote my poker night in the Shaw which is tomorrow night, it will be the first monthly (Hopefully) Cash Money Poker tournament at the Bernard Shaw and it starts at 8pm. It is 20 euro buy-in with rebuys for the first hour and the cash prize will be awarded 1st, 2nd, 3rd & 4th place.

If you are at loss as to where the Bernard Shaw is, do not fret, I am about to give the worlds greatest directions.

- If you are coming from south of the Grand Canal, head towards the Portobello Bridge (which is the bridge at the end of Rathmines), head over it and the Bernard Shaw is about 300 metres on the right.

- If you are heading from town or the terrifying place that is north Dublin just head up Camden St. towards the Bleeding Horse, now, if your walking just stroll past the Bleeding Horse on your left and keep walking for approx. maybe 260 metres and you will find the Shaw on your left, if you are driving, its a little bit of a pain in the arse. Your gonna have to drive all the way around by the pod. When you get around dont take the left to Ranaligh (or however it supposed to be spelt), take the next one and the Shaw will be just there on the left. You can park on the street on the right.

Sorted now your here, lets play some fucking poker and swig back some 3 euro pints, which will be in place for the duration of the tourney, but for all those people who i gave driving directions too, i'm afraid this part is not for you, ah fuck it, I have to say that, but I really don't give a shit, drink as much as you like, Ill hand you the keys as you leaving.

And of course, for those people who are quite fond of eating, get ready because I will stuff you, its gonna get tasty, believe me.

But the bottom line is, the poker should be sweet as a nut so, if your into it, hope to see you there with bells hanging off you.

My Heartfelt Apology To All

My sincere apology to all of the millions that regularly log on to this blog and read my sappy self-important bullshit but I have been up to my tits for the last week and a half with work. Yes, work. Yes, work. For the first time in about a 2 and a half years I am up to my tits with work. I only realised this a couple of days ago and it dawned on me, holy shit I have done a hard weeks work in years. Yeah, I had a few jobs here and there, two week gig here, five week gig there, a three week stint doing the 98 fm fugitive, a year on an ecocab and a very brief television delivery scene to Molloys pub but other than that I have been pretty much been taking it handy since my last Gaiety panto, Mother Goose, which was pretty much the biggest session I have ever been on in my life so what am I letting myself in for with this one. Will it be the same? Let’s hope not but, anyway, this is the reason why I have been slacking on my blogging the fuck out of it.

But it is weird, I have been seriously taking the piss for that long, when I finished panto in February 07, I pretty much moved, with 4 mates, into the biggest session gaf imaginable in Rathmines and let me tell you, to put it lightly, we got fucked. I worked briefly with the Gaiety School of Acting and did a two week show in the theatre festival but other than that I was on the dole between March 07 to October 07. Literally, room-mates came home from work on Friday and we would go till early Monday morning. I used to think to myself, Jesus, will I ever get tired of partying and enjoying myself so much? And the answer is NO! I am loving it. Over the last five years getting mouldy, I have pretty much met some of the best people that Dublin has to offer. I hang around with some of the wittiest cunts I am ever likely to meet in this town so why would I change that. Would you?

I eventually moved out of that borderline crack to an apartment on the Aston Quay with my bird and my mate and it was business as usual, partying every fucking weekend but this time I found myself on an ecocab three times a week along with the dole for a couple more months or more like a year. This continued on and on until now. I haven't done a hard days work in all that time. Until now

And here I am, I am 28, and I just did the hardest week and a half of work in two and a half years. Somebody give me a pat on the back. Fair play to me, Fair play to Jack - What a fuckin legend. Oh my god, I am so happy to be me

By the way, the blog will be back as usual from now on, I am back, back with a vengeance but is there anyone reading this shit, I really don't so . . . . Who cares? Let’s get high!

How To Get Rid Of A Cold In Twelve Hours

Its fuckin bullshit, as my day went on yesterday my hangover slowly turned into a full scale cold, fuckin typical. As I was on my way to Greg's to record the podcast, my nose was bunged up like a motherfucker, my knees were all weak and I was coughing up some lovely green shit which can only be a nice viral infection to keep me company over my Halloween weekend. It must of been me sitting outside Pygmalion all night, smoking in a fucking t-shirt. I am such a sap.

Not only does this wreck my weekend in the sense that I have to put up with a cold, it also drags me right back to the drawing board in terms of my costume. Tonight I was going to wear a toga, which is pretty much out the window and tomorrow, I was going to just wear my boxers with a dressing gown with a wig and go as The Dude. I had the cheapest costumes ready to go and I might as well bin them. Looks like I'm gonna have to rock Dog The Bounty Hunter again or . . . . I could get rid of it, the cold I mean. Is it possible for me to get rid of this thing in twelve hours so that that come Saturday I'll have a fresh face, smiling, ready to session the fuck out of it? Well this is the challenge I have handed myself last night and I am going to continue until Supafast tonight. I am going to pummel the fuck out of myself with as many pharmaceuticals as i can find.

Cold Devastation Kit

Uniflu Cold & Flu
Box of Nerofen plus
Box of Sudafed
Bottle of Ecinatia
Tub of Chewable Vitamin C tablets
Tub of Cod Liver Oil tablets
and some Evening primrose oil that I found in Tara's bedside locker.

I have to cough up everything into tissues, I am going to force this bastard out of my system if its the last thing I do because i refuse to be sick on Halloween. It is my favorite holiday of the year so by God and anyone who fancies reading this nonsense as my witness, I will get madge ovit and party my little arse off all weekend. See ya at the sesh!

Day 2 as a Blogger

Folks, it is day two in the life of my blog page, Jacking Off, and to tell you the truth I haven't stopped thinking about it, its weird, I have told everyone I have met about it.

- 'Oh yeah, guess what?

- What?

- I started a blog today

And every time I said it, the more I got excited. Strangely pathetic, but I don't give a shit. I got up this morning, hungover from my pub crawl last night, that nice hungover, the kind when your wrecked, in your gaff, with loads of food and you have fuck all to do with the day. You are not gonna move for anything. A morning & afternoon where all the major events consist of making an scrambled eggs, having a wank, making a cup of tea and maybe another wank for good measure.

And it starts, a weekend of sheer fucking madness. You always know your weekend is gonna be mental when it starts on Wednesday. What was I at getting locked last night, knowing I have tonight, Friday, Saturday & Sunday ahead of me. It's just impossible to run those pub crawls without drinking, even if it is a Wednesday. You are trying to interact with this group of Americans that are getting absolutely plastered, the only way of talking sense to them is to get in the same state as they're in. Locked

Gonna checkout that Noise night in Andrew's Lane tonight, myself and my mate, Aaron had never been in there as a club and last week we were just strolling by it on a Wednesday or something. We decided to pop our heads in and check it out. We had both worked there for years when it was a theatre and we thought it was probably going to be pretty much the same as it was back then. How wrong were we, Holy Shit, the place is fucking huge. They have completely gutted the place. We couldn't believe that we had never been here when it was like this. Its so mental, both of us just never got around going in. So defo gonna check that place out tonight and see if its any use. It could be a bit studenty, actually now that I think of it, I think its a student night so that could put me off. I'll see how I feel after the podcast tonight. Or should I say, I'll see how high I am after the podcast

Myself and my mate, Greg are on Week 9 of our fantasy football podcast on our site www.radiomade.ie and I think they are starting to pick up. We started off a bit shit, we were recording it in all these different places and I think that was throwing us off a bit but we have finally found our recording place, our studio - Greg's Bedroom. They are really starting to pick up which I am over the moon about because I thought the two of us were just running out of steam and that we were just going to eventually quit it. Thankfully those thoughts are long gone. I cant wait for this weeks podcast. I also cant wait for tomorrows blog, Jesus, I'm really getting into this shit. I wonder when the novelty wares off.

Do People Read Blogs

I have been telling my mates over the last year that I would love to some how keep a diary or maybe venture into journalism, write in some capacity, maybe for television or radio and they always say to me.

- 'Why don't you start a blog? I'd read it.'

And of course, in my head I'm like

- 'No one reads blogs, I don't read blogs, sure. So obviously no one reads blogs, why would I waste my time.'

- 'They do, I swear,'

There is nothing I would find more dull than browsing through other peoples blogs. I would say there is some serious horse shit out there. People who have no I idea of humor or any understanding of what is interesting what so ever. I have a feeling this blog game is going to be a fucking doddle. I'm going to try and stick to three blogs a week, really push myself, through myself into it, even if people aren't listening, which they aren't. See how it fairs after a couple of months, see what reaction I get back. If I get a reaction. I cannot believe that some complete stranger is going to take the time out of his or her day and read this shit. I will be shocked if somebody reads this. Which means if no one reads this, I'm talking to myself.

Anyway, if you are reading this, its my first go, come back in three days and I'll hopefully knock you on your bollix laughing with some brilliant anecdote that is so witty that you'll just have to come clicking back for more.

Until then I'm gonna get my think cap on about what I'm going to write about next, so catch ye later if your even there . . . . . . . . .there's no one there, is there . . . . . . . . . . . I knew it, ah well, see you in three days . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I could say anything doesn't matter . . . . . . . I like kiddy porn, it doesn't matter.