Cumfy As Fuck

I swear to God, I could not feel any more comfortable if I tried. I just woke up there at 8 beside Tara on our massive L-shaped couch, which is basically the size of a bed. Tara must of gone into our bedroom during the night and got our amazingly embracing duvet (15 togs, thank you very much, that’s, like, the highest level of togage.). I feel that slightly pleasant hangover, not the kind with headache or anything but hungry, thirsty, stretchy, funky kind of hangover. I checked the time and I immediately remembered that Match of the Day rerun is on, fucking savaushta!

I get to watch Man City take giant shit on John Terry, Chelsea and all that support them. I'm not going to get into the booing of Wayne Bridge; I will actually fuck my laptop across the room if I do. Also if you back to my tip for Arsenal to win the league, it is not looking to bad now. A week ago, they were 10/1 and now, 11/4. They are 3 points off the top.

As Match of the Day ends, I set my sights firmly on the Coronation Street omnibus; this Gail story is fucking savage. It wasn't on for an hour so I nip over to Centra to get some brecky rolls for myself and Tara, well, the makings of two brecky rolls. The people in charge of making rolls couldn't be worse at making rolls, if I could tell all of them what career not to do, it would definitely be within the sandwich arrangement industry. . . . . . . . . . I think I'm being a bit harsh with them. It's just I have an extremely high standards when it comes the construct of a mouth watering sub.

As I get home, I find Tara still on the couch breaking her shits laughing to herself. 'What are you laughing at, ye mad yoke?' I say. 'Nothing,' she says, 'It's just I'm so fucking cumfy.'

I make up two of the tastiest motherfuckers you ever likely to put into your mouth, the tea is on the money as well, want to know my secret - 2 tea bags, trust me. And as the Corrie theme tune starts, I am back under the duvet with my roll, my cupa and my bird who is also nibbling away.

Gail is fucked, the situation is like this. She and her new husband head off to Cornwall on a lovely, Valentine’s Day weekend. The husband, Joe, is up to his tits in debt and he doesn't have many options when it comes to clearing it so he says to Gail that he is going to fake his own death. He will go out onto the lake in his boat, abandon the boat in a dingy, Gail is to report him missing and he won't be found, they collect on the insurance. Gail, of course, freaks and tells him he's a sap but he just jumps onto his boat anyway, leaving Gail weeping on the river bank.

Jesus, she seriously cannot get a fucking break when it comes to getting a husband. The first guy, was constantly doing the dirt on her and then eventually gets murdered by a mugger, the second guy, Martin, if memory serves me well, I believe he was dipping his wick in other peoples oils, and then there is the third husband, Richard, who ended up being a psychopathic killer, who not only claimed several characters on the show but he also drove Gail and the whole family into a fucking canal and now there is this cunt.

Anyway, Joe, who Tara is convinced the skin on his face is similar to that of foreskin, is in the middle of abandoning the boat, and the fecki ejjit slips, hits his head and drowns. So Gail, unbeknownst to her he is dead, decides to not play along, gets her son, David, to come out, find the boat on the lake and get her home. They still think Joe is alive and that he will have to come home when he realises no one has reported him missing. They tell everyone on the street including his daughter that he got work out by the lake and that he won't be home for a few weeks. 2 weeks go by and what happens but Joe's body starts to floating to the surface of the lake and, of course, is found and reported. Gail and David are told by the police and all shit breaks loose, Gail tells the cops the truth and they are very suspect about the whole thing. The actors that are playing the 2 detectives are gas, they look like they are about to get locked, glass someone and head to The Den to scream racist chants at their opposition.

I then kind of pass out for about a half an hour, just because I am that comfy. I wake with realisation that the Spurs - Everton game is about to start. With a lovely chuff, I flick to ESPN. Tara goes, 'If I wasn't so fuckin comfy, I would deck you for that quack.' It doesn't matter anyway, my farts for some reason these days don't smell. They are loud but not smelly.

Aw, The Carling Cup is after it as well, savage. I'm gonna go back to my oul'pairs for a roast at about 6 and to finish it off, the Real Sounds thing in the Shaw. Oh my God, I am love loving this shit. Get in there!

Wayne Bridge - Gent

The final nail in the Wayne Bridge / John Terry coffin has hopefully been hammered as Wayne Bridge announces his retirement from international duty today. He is stepping back from the England World Cup campaign this June, and that is that.

For those of you that have been living on the moon for the last 3 weeks, the situation is this - Wayne Bridge, former Chelsea & England left back, was sold to Man City from Chelsea last summer. In his short absence, John Terry indulges in an affair with Bridge's girlfriend and mother to his child.

Some how this news was made public, the girlfriend is, of course, taken under the wing of publicist and known degenerate, Max Clifford, I'm sure her biography will be out before the end of this summer. John Terry is stripped of the England captaincy by Fabio Cappelo and heads off with the wife to try and rebuild their relationship, whatever, we don't care.

Mean while Wayne Bridge is left at home in Manchester and what does he do, writes a brief press release, not a press conference, no photographers, no journalists, just a simple press release stating that he wants this to be left alone and private and that all he cares about is the welfare of his son.

Now, a week later, Ashley Cole goes down with an ankle injury. He is out for the next 4 months which means he will not have many games leading up to the World Cup, if he is even fit enough to play and guess who the second string left back is, that’s right - Wayne Bridge. He would have to stand beside John Terry again as a team mate, he would have to celebrate with him when ever they won, he would have to work extremely close with him if he wanted the England defence to stay organised, all while the only thing that is going through his head is 'This guy fucked my girlfriend.' . . . . I can tell you right now, if I was in the same room with the person that I openly knew, fucked my girlfriend, I'm sorry, it would not be pretty. Now times that by 70,000 people staring at your every move in a stadium, 1 Billion people watching world wide in their homes and the worlds press waiting for you or Terry to even look at one another.

Fuck that.

But not only that, as he said in his letter of retirement, he speaks with a tone of self sacrifice, he knows that his or John Terry's presence at the World Cup could divert attention from what is really important - winning the World Cup, he feels that it could create a rift within the team, distracting the players while they should focusing at the job at hand. and with that, he declines his position on the team. He knows how good a player John Terry is and how important he is to the England set up so he steps back. He wants England to have the best opportunity at winning this World Cup to a point that he is willing to sacrifice probably what he has been dreaming about his whole life.

Wayne Bridge - you have sacrificed so much to help England on their way to winning the World Cup, you did it with integrity, you did it without self gain and you did it with class. I applaud you and I think only good things can happen to people with that level of character.

I Know What I'm Doing This Friday

As I said in other write-ups, I am finding it very hard these days to get motivated to actually go out to nightclubs anymore. There has to be a very substantial reason to go out and the only reason that would have that level of substance would be to see a particular act. The days of going out just to get locked in an every day club with nothing of any real importance on in the club are few and far between to tell you the truth. Maybe its because I'm broke and I'm in the mind set that if I’m gonna go out, get mangled and spend loads of money, its got to be fuckin worth it. And have I got a night out that is worth it . . . . Yes, I do. If anyone is going out this weekend, you've got to head to Night Flight @ The Button Factory this Friday for one of my personnel favourite DJs, Maurice Fulton.

If anyone was lucky to be at Nicky Siano at Night Flight last summer, let me tell you the atmosphere will be something similar, a lot more housie but the place will be going just as ape shit. . . . . .and it is fucking 8 squid before 12 if you say Downtown Sounds at the door. What a fucking bargain? You are not gonna get a better deal than that anywhere else in Dublin.

I first saw this guy down in Ri-Ra years ago when Downtown Sounds were running the Friday night (of course, they went on to start Night Flight with Space Camp & Winter Olympics) and if memory serves me correct, the cunt played for about 3 and a half hours and the place was going off, Up there with one of my favourite gigs. Just to get an idea of the kind of shit you’re likely to hear on Friday, this is a remix he did of the Simian Mobile Disco track - Cruel Intentions, check this bad boy out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZ4XOOnVf6k

If you like that, here is a classic that I believe he had a vital hand in producing which I hope will feature on Friday, cheesy as fuck, here is Gypsy woman

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KztNIg4cvE&feature=fvst

I remember finishing work in the Gaiety all those years ago, I was fucking wrecked, I had just done a 12 hour get-out and I got dragged up to Ri Ra by Aaron. We put 2 lil fellas into us and off we popped through the night like a pair of mad cunts ready to dance our little hearts out. What a night! I can’t wait for this Friday, it is gonna be savage. . . . . . . . . . Anyone got any little fellas.

And The Oscar Goes To . . . . . . I Don't Have A Clue Because I've Seen Hardly Any Of Them

With the run up to the Oscars well under way, the Baftas, Iftas and the Golden Globes are done and dusted and we can all see who the ones to beat are at this year’s ceremony on March 7th. But one thing I love doing is checking out as many of the nominees as I can in the month or two running up to it and when I think about I have seriously slacked on my cinema going this year and now that I have fuck all to be doing with myself, waiting for that very silent phone to ring, I cant wait to get stuck into this years nominees.

First on the list is, of course, Avatar, and, I know, this is something that has to be seen in a cinema, the 3-D experience and all that, no downloading and watching it on your computer, get your arse off the couch and get yourself to the pictures. But you know what? I haven't been that pushed. I'm defo gonna go over the next 2 weeks but I have kind of made my mind up about it already, I know, I know, I hate doing that. Even for the fact that everyone I know is saying its fucking savage and that I have to see it. I was at least expecting 1 or 2 people to think its shite, some of my mates are very hard to impress and they all seemed to have loved it. It has a kind of a Titanic bang off it.

Number 2, I am really going to have to make myself watch for the simple fact that I cant handle Sandra Bullock but her movie, the ranked outsider for Best Picture at 125/1, The Blind Side, and its also up for Best Actress for herself and not only is she nominated but she is the fucking favourite at 8/13, Best Actress! I never thought I'd see the day. She was okay in that film Crash that weirdly won a couple of years ago but that is about it, just go onto her Imdb page, it is not a pretty sight. The weirdest part about all of this is, I think the reason she is the favourite is the fact that she won the Golden Globe in January but she won that for The Proposal, don’t ask me how but she did. This is a performance I have got to see, I am very suspect, the best film that bird ever made was Demolition Man for fuck sake.

The third movie is a film that everyone said is absolutely amazing, I awaited its release for a couple of months but due to Panto commitments, I never had the time. District 9 is up for 4 awards, Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay and 2 other technical award, not sure which ones, (I presume visual effects, from what I have seen from the trailers, its got to be the favourite, fuck Avatar, it looks like the intro to a computer game). But its out on DVD so I think this is the road I'm gonna go down today. I can’t wait, a nice apartheid metaphor that involves 10 foot aliens before lunch, sound quality.

The fourth movie is An Education . . . . . . . . if I stumble upon it somewhere on the internet, I might give it a gander. . . . . Actually fuck that, I've just flushed my so called credibility down the preverbal jacks. I love Alfred Molina, I met him years ago when he was in a play with my oul'one, and let me tell you, he was fucking quality in it. Fred, if you are reading this, I was rooting for you. Stanley Tucci wasn't that good in The Lovely Bones, it should of been you. My little tip, if you are looking for an outsider to stick 2 euro on, An Education at 66/1 would be a nice one, it reeks of Oscar movie . . . . . . . who am I kidding, you might as well flush that 2 euro down the drain. . . . . . . . . . . How can you flush something down the drain, you flush things down the toilet, not the drain.

I checked out the new favourite to take the Best Picture yesterday, The Hurt Locker, which knocked Avatar from its perch after sweeping the Baftas and I loved it. I still don't see it taking the Best Picture prize though. It's up for a whopping total of nine awards, Best Picture, Best Director for Kathrine Bigalow, James Cameron's ex-wife, who I am a pretty sure will take it, people have been going on about the fact that the academy have never awarded a woman for directing and this is the perfect opportunity. She is 2/7 to win - not even worth the bet. Also up is the leading man, Jeremy Renner, who to date has been just a supporting actor in stuff like SWAT, North Country and 28 Weeks Later where he always put up a solid show but now, he has defo cemented himself, I think, as a leading man but as the youngster of the group, he is a major outsider at 18/1. The film is also up for 2other big one, Original Writing and Score which I think Hurt Locker could be decent a contender but will probably loose out to the favourite which is the first animated film to be up for Best Picture since Beauty & The Beast, UP.

I think UP will have to be on my list, believe it or not, I've never been a major fan of those Pixar style movies. People have been going on and on about them for the last ten years and I have never really understood the fascination. I have watched them and enjoyed them but that is it. Like when people were going mad that Toy Story 2 wasn't nominated all those years ago, I was scratching my head, going 'What?' but this UP movie has been get ridicules reviews, anyone I know who has seen it, said its one of their favourite films of the last couple of years and now, the Oscar nomination, I have to have a look.

But onto a nominee that I got to checkout that is up for Best Picture - Inglorious Bastard, now, where do I start? How did this piece of shite get nominated? Not even if the academy extended the amount of nominees in the Best Picture category to 20, it shouldn't be in there. What a pile of my arse. I remember going to it and really rooting for it, I couldn’t wait. We had that amazing opening scene between Supporting Actor favourite, Christoph Waltz (who is a dead cert at 1/25) and that French actor, Denis Menochet (who was equally as deadly) then shite for about an hour until Michael Fassbender comes along. We then have that quite good scene in the bar where everyone gets milled out of it, then shite, absolute shite until the end. The name of the film was Inglorious Bastards and the Inglorious Bastard had probably about 40 lines in total between them all throughout the whole movie and Brad Pitt had 35 of them. The short time that Brad Pitt, that big cunt who directed Hostel and all the other little wankers were on screen, they actually made me feel sorry for the Nazis, that is a very hard thing to do and I'm not even going to go into the other story line about the girl in the cinema and nazi solider film star because I might actually fallasleeeeeeeeeeeeee jnunfvju7eimoewm####p--ij2eor;;tr.h..t........Oh my god I actually fell asleep on the keyboard just there. Fucking hell, how did it get in there? When you have stuff like The Road & Let The Right One In not even getting mentioned.

Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire is a must on my list over the next week but I am just terrified of it. I know for a fact that to say that it will be a heart breaker will be the biggest understatement in the world. I haven't met that many people who have seen it but my mate, Coffey, said it was savage so that is definite download.

The other 2 Best Picture nominees that I’m gonna stick in the download category for the week, just for the fact that I’m as broke as a joke, is Up In The Air, which I’m really looking forward to. I haven't heard many mates going on about it but I thought Juno was slick, well, your one in it was kind of wrecking my head by the end of it, but all in all, I liked it so Up In The Air will be a sure bet on the list for the coming week. The other is the one movie in the Best Picture Category that I reckon has absolutely no chance of winning. I wouldn't bet on A Serious Man if you paid me . . . . . well, I probably would because you’re paying me to do it so once the bet is less than what you’re paying me I can see it being well worth my while but other than that, I wouldn't go near it. The small amount of people I know who have seen it, kind of said it was alright . . . okay . . . good . . . . grand. Now that doesn't sound like a Coen's movie to me. The Coen's, they are the reason why I'm gonna check out this movie but I wouldn't be surprised if this is the one I forget to watch.

But their we have it, there is my list 'But stop, Jack. There are a few others in other categories that you will have to see.' Yeah, like what? . . . . . Crazy Heart which I have already renamed as The Wrestler with country music . . . . Invictus, which I saw and found to be very very pleasant. A very easy going movie about Nelsen Mandela in the most easy going part of his life, why they did that? I will tell you why, because Morgan Freeman is too old to play him in any other era of his life. It should get nothing in this year’s ceremony. But the one other movie that I am rooting for all the way, which is only up for the one award, Best Adapted Screenplay. Come on Armando Iannucci for In The Loop. Legend!

So lets go, I have my list of Motion Pictures, I think I’m gonna start with 'Up In The Air', yeah, that looks like a good place to start.

I'm Grand

What a fucking joke, the doctor laughed at me. As soon as I said the words 'lung cancer', he broke his shits laughing. As he was examining me he was giggling in my face. I felt like a dickhead. Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do when you feel something is wrong with you? Isn’t this what they tell you to do on Ireland AM when ever you feel like shit. . . . . . . . . . . Okay I deserve to be laughed. But, anyway, it ended not being cancer, it had nothing even remotely to do with cancer at all. All it was was a mild form of Bronchitis and Asthma and that I cut the inside of my throat coughing. I was literally ten minutes in the office, a quick examination, check the chest, check the mouth, check the ear and sent on my way with a proscription in my hand, that will 55 bills, adios amigo!

I ended up heading up to the chemist to get my shit and it ends up costing ninety fucking squid. I have to head back out to my oul'fella who is chilling the car waiting for me, still pissed off coz he can get the internet working on his relic of a laptop, you should see this thing, its got Windows 98 and you need a wireless card to put into the thing to get it going, which he just bought and can't get working. He sorts problem and we head home and he proceeds to lets rip down the phone at some poor unfortunate customer service person from NTL probably taking it out on him for the fact that he just shelled out for me. 'Yes, but I already did that, I don't know why you don't make it more simple . . . . . . . . . Yes . . . . . yes . . . . . . Yeah, I. . . Have . . . already done that . . . and it isn’t working. Which one is the modem?' Myself and my brother, Max, look on in amusement.

So 145 yo yos and off I go, I got to stop freaking out, I am the biggest hypochondriac on the planet but, fuck it, at least I'm aware of shit going wrong with me. I don't just ignore it, when it happens for real, I can guarantee I’ll catch what ever it is in time. Although, how the fuck does he know there is nothing wrong with me if he doesn't give a blood test, yeah, fucking hell, he didn’t even check my blood pressure, Jesus! What if. . . . . . . . . . . I got to get a grip. Has anyone got a smoke.

Now that I read back the post I put up yesterday, it is quite mental how fucking freaked out I got. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm turning 29 today . . . . . . . . 29, one more year and that’s the twenties gone. Gone. I don't know why I have an issue with age, maybe it’s for the simple fact that I don't have my shit together yet and I always said that I would have my shit together by the time I was 30. I think everyone has that milestone in their heads that 30 is the age where you get some sense, you are officially an adult, you change your mentality all of a sudden, you traditionally start to think very seriously about shit like kids, career and other stuff that you weren't really thinking about before or maybe it's a fear of actually becoming an adult, a fear of arriving at an age where you remember your oul'pair being that age and they were a lot more together than you are now, a fear at becoming that bloke at sessions that everybody is pointing at and saying 'Who brought the oul'fella?'

Remember those haggard oul'lads that occasionally turned up at parties and at first everyone is trying to be sound to them but it always ended the same way, everyone ripping the piss out of him. There is nothing that will anger me more, than if I end up back at some cunts gaf, I'm dancing in the kitchen, I'm 45, I've got a bottle of bucky and nicely madge and there is a load of little wankers giving it the fucking big boy shit, taking the piss out of me. . . . . . .I can see myself getting very irritated in my old age, I'm already getting wound up by young people. Whenever I hear them being load and horrible, even walking down the street, I just want to walk up and go - 'Shhhhhhhhhh! Just stop, Just stop talking.'

But when I say your mentality changes, it does, slowly. I used to be hell bent on the session. Without fail, I would be there representing myself with proud gurn, my sweaty head held high, talking shite for about 60 hours a weekend. Any word of a decent session, I would be there. Now, I just couldn't be arsed half the time. Don't get me wrong I'm not turning Amish or anything but I'm changing or maybe the sessions are changing, they just aren't as good. Yeah, fuck that, it has got nothing to do with me, there is very little crack anymore that’s the problem, all you cunts that are throwing these parties, come on; get your fucking act together. Take it from this oul'fella on his birthday - 'Ye's haven't a clue!'

Fuckin Hell!

Okay, I am fucking shitting myself. Last night as I was going to bed, I lay down, coughed and got this weird taste in my mouth. I spat out onto my hand and there, in my saliva, my worst fucking nightmare, blood. 'Fucking hell,' I thought. I ran to the bathroom and spat about three or four more time and it was the same deal to a point that I was hacking up and there was nothing, it was back to normal. Fucking hell, I thought, I am fucking shitting myself, what the fuck, blood in the saliva, anything in the saliva but that, any other colour but red.

I walked back into Tara nearly fucking crying. This is my worst fucking nightmare. I get these twinges and aches in my chest from time to time for ages. Fucking hell, I really hope its nothing. Tara seems to think it’s nothing but that I'm to get straight up first thing in the morning and get it checked the fuck out. I, of course, being the ridicules cunt that I am, I grabbed my laptop and started looking up all sorts of mad shit. I type into google 'coughing up blood'. I went onto Wikapedia, which I believe to be a reliable source and the 2 words 'lung' and 'cancer' were jumping off the screen. I have really got to sort myself out. I have really got to cut this smoking shit out. I will literally be dead before I'm forty if I keep smoking. That is a fucking fact. End of story.

Tara is trying to calm me down; I swear to god, I'm nearly in fucking tears in the bed. She flicks on the latest Mark Kermode Podcast that I always listen to, in hope that it will calm me down, and hopefully send me to sleep. Not fucking lightly. Holy Shit, could you imagine if I have something, that would be the fucking worst fucking shit in the world.

I sometimes imagine getting stuff like that, and, you know, what it would be like. I think about how complicated the body is and how has nothing ever gone wrong with me. I have had it so easy, and I sometime think that it’s that sort of negative thinking that brings shit like this on.

Back in November, during the rehearsals of panto, I was as busy as fuck one morning, I just had Richie Hayes, this actor in the show, riding on top of me back as I walked into the scene (when I was playing the back of the cow), he was bouncing and bouncing on my back and later on that day, my back and chest area where he was sitting was killing me, I spat I little bit of blood and I did nothing about it. I thought it might of been something to do with Richie, I also thought it might of been a nose bleed or maybe it was me just ignoring it. . . . . yeah . . . . bullshiting myself. But the funny thing was, I got Richie to stop it and it never happened again, that was 4 months ago, well, 3 months, see there I go again, saying 4 month when it is blatantly 3 months.

I have to get my fucking shit together; it’s as simple as that. I have got to start looking after myself, I need a full physical. I need to go into a doctor and for him to go stop doing this and start doing this. I need to know right now if there is something wrong with me. I NEED TO GET MY SHIT TOGETHER.

Step 1 - I need to stop smoking, everyone has been saying it to me for years, Jack, your lungs are weak, you can't stop coughing, why are you smoking? It says it on the packet, THESE THINGS FUCKING KILL YOU!

Step 2 - I have to start eat right, okay I'm not as bad as some but I don't eat enough fruit, so I'm gonna have to start kicking into gear there as well

Step 3 - I don't get any exercise, full stop. I just don't, I kid myself when I say, ‘Well, you walk everywhere, Jack, don't worry about it.’ Man, I couldn't run for the bus right now. I need not only to get some exercise, I need to get fit.

Step 4 - Sessioning, I've just got to take it easy in that department.

Anyway, I woke up this morning at 8.30 and got dressed, Tara told me to ring my Ma. I get the orders to come straight home and we are going to Tim, our family GP, at 2 o clock. I am fucking shitting myself. It's now ten to eleven, and I'm fucking shitting myself. I will let everyone who is reading know what the crack is later, fucking hell, I am fucking shitting it.

A Brit Of A Laugh

I have been flicking back and forth from the Champions League to the Brit Awards and I've. . . . . . , okay, why am I bullshiting, Tara really wants to see the Brits so I am really only seeing the united match at the ad breaks so I'm pretty much just watching the Brit awards, actually I don't even get to see the match at the ad breaks because when we flick over, she keeps flicking back to see if the ad break is over so the Brit Awards it is.

Anyway, when we made the dicision that it was going to be the Brits for the night, I was resigned to the fact that I was going to be biting my fist for the duration of the procedings but I have been pleasantly surprised, believe it or not I am quite enjoying it. I have been consistantly busting my balls laughing at all the fuck ups left, right and centre. Jesus, will these celebrities ever stop trying to tell jokes, no one is laughing, no one is laughing and I have to say I've been totally blown away by some of the live performances, Florence & The Machines' performance with Dizzy Rascal was savage, even though Dizzy wrecks my head and Kasabian were fucking amazing as per usual, Jay Z and Alica Keys were quality aswell, and I'd usually hate those kind of performances and, of course, the host, Peter Kay is ripping everyone to pieces. He openingly called Liam Gallagher a knob for throwing his Brit Award into the crowd - Legend

But one thing that has happen tonight and it is something that has been wrecking my head for quite a while now and it is the massive question that is Lady Ga Ga, I have been trying to answer this question since this mad thing came out. What is everybody going on about? What do they see that I don't see? But her performance was the performance of the night. First off, she dressed as this kind of ice queen, kind of like the evil demon bird at the end of Ghostbusters. Anyway, she breaks into this slow piano solo number followed by this really fucked up, industrial, mad shit where she stands up to a massive electric chello with a drum machine attached to it. It was fucking quality, I'm sure it'll be up on youtube by now so check it out, I'm not mad on the stuff that she puts out but the performance was like Bjork or something. I finally see what all of the fuss is about, she is fuckin nuts.

But do you know what was so amazing, after the performance, Fern Cotton asks Geri Halliwell 'Well, Geri, that was pretty mesmorising, wasn't it?' The camera goes to Geri, 'Well, to be perfectly honest, I would of liked something that I knew.' . . . . . . . . . . Geri, you are a dickhead, you are a dickhead, you haven't a clue, you are a brain dead sap, you are unbelieviable . . . . . . . and later on she windes up presenting an award for best new comer or something and she comes out with 'Well, it's a funny thing that I'm presenting this award, it's the only award that the Spice Girl ever lost and we lost to Kula Shaker, and where are they now?' . . . . . Okay, a cheap dig at a formerly good band that were better than you then and are certainly better than you now whether they are still together or not. My final word on this is Geri - 'Shut up, will ye'

But what I'm noticing as I watch Robbie Williams receiving a 'lifetime achievement award', the cunt is 36, lifetime achievement, give me a break. But what I am noticing as the show comes to an end, everyone is on a sessioning the fuck out of it. Half the people being interviewed are locked off there tits, you rarely see celebrities openly madge out of it in interviews, anyways, we are now on our way over to ITV2 for the after show gossip, I can't wait. . . . . emmmmm, if someone sees me over the next couple of days, would you do me a favour, put me out of my misery and shoot me in the face.

Not Such A Dull Bet Now

A couple of weeks ago, myself and Greg, on fantasy football podcast, were discussing certain bets that people could and should have a flutter on and, if anyone was listening, you will remember that I put forward one of the dullest bets known to man, yes, it was an alright bet at the time but not the kind of bet you discuss on a podcast where you are trying to entertain and keep peoples attention. Well, let me tell you that bet has got a little bit more juicy. When I first discussed the bet Arsenal were 9/2 to win the premiership but now they are 8/1. 'Okay, Jack,' you must be saying, 'there is a reason they are 8/1, they are not in the race, there is a reason why Chelsea are 5/6 and United are 6/5.' But if you look at the current standings, along with the final run in of games, I definetly see Arsenal finishing closer than people think. Here are the current standings

1. Chelsea 26 58
2. Man Utd 26 57
3. Arsenal 26 52
4. Liverpool 26 44
5. Man City 24 44

Now we can all see, yeah, Arsenal are 6 points behind Chelsea, now, that seems a mountain to climb but in this season a lot weirder has happened, top teams have been dropping points left, right and centre against lower teams except Arsenal. If my memory serves me correctly Arsenal have been only dropping points against the top five teams, with exception to their 1-0 defeat to Sunderland back in November there are very little slip ups, not only that but they have been beating the lower team by very handsome margins. Now, if you have a look at Arsenal's final 12 league games of the season, it looks very encouraging as you compare them to Chelsea & Uniteds.

Chelsea............Man Utd............Arsenal

Wolves.............Everton............Sunderland
Man City...........West Ham...........Stoke
Portsmouth.........Wolves.............Burnley
West Ham...........Fulham.............Hull
Blackburn..........Liverpool..........West Ham
Aston Villa........Bolten.............Birmingham
Man Utd............Chelsea............Wolves
Bolten.............Blackburn..........Tottenham
Tottenham..........Man City...........Wigan
Stoke..............Tottenham..........Man City
Liverpool..........Sunderland.........Blackburn
Wigan..............Stoke..............Fulham

You cannot deny that that run of games looks a lot more appealing than the others and you have to expect with the exception of the Man City game (for the simple reason that they have lost 4-2 and 3-0 to Man City this season already), that they would get something from all of those games and if you do the maths, they are gonna come closer to Chelsea & Man Utd than everyone think. My money is on Arsenal, 8/1 I believe is a good bet, I think its worth ten or twenty quid as the season goes into the home straight. So, to the woolshed with me for the remainder of the season.

Also get on Notts County at 5/1 who are 9 points off the top of League 2 with, wait for it, 6 games at hand and Lee Hughes is only bangin them in - GO ON COUNTY!

The Thieving Ghost of Harold's Cross

Myself and Tara have only 3 weeks in this new flat and the amount of shit that has mysteriously gone missing is getting quite freaky. The apartment is not that big so if something is lost, you should be able to find within ten minutes and you are talking about probably the best finder of things the world has ever seen, they don't call me Sherlock Olohan for nothing.

Object Number 1 - The first loss or what we like to call it, the first sign of paranormal activity in the gaf and I just want to let everyone know that I'm not having a laugh here, I didn't go to that movie because I knew exactly what would happen to me - It would scare the shit out of me! So the whole idea isn't exactly sitting well with me. But, anyway, the letter box keys, I made a point of asking the caretaker of our building, Mick, who is probably the best advertisement for non-smoking on this planet, could I get a copy of letter box keys. Ye know, right by the front door into the building each apartment has a corresponding letter box which you need a key to open so I thought it might be a good idea to get the key for seeing that I might get a letter or two. Mick obliged me and dropped them over the next day. 4 small keys on a ring. I went down tried them out, worked like a charm. I bring them back up to the flat, put them onto the table and that was the last they have been seen. All that we found were another completely useless set of old small keys on a key ring, they don't work. I got my hand stuck in the fucking letterbox yesterday trying to get out my new ATM card.

Object Number 2 - Something that I want to make very clear to everyone reading this, is that one of the things I spend my money on in this world is socks, in the last year I bought at least 20 packs of 4 from Dunnes, I'll prove it they are 3 euro. Now you would think as a person who is that dedicated to the warmth of his feet that the problem of no socks would very rarely arise. You would think this cunt has it covered, you would think that. Well, when I say since moving into this flat, I can safely say that my sock population has dropped in such an unreasonable fashion to a point that I have about five pairs. Where have they gone? Give them back you cunt.

Object Number 3 - Tara's mate Becky is studying Psychology in college and she asked myself and Tara to do this survey about couple who are living together, one for me in a big brown envelope and one for Tara in a big brown envelope with our names written in big lettering on the front. Now they were left on the table and when I say that is the last they were seen, I truly mean it. Myself and Tara turned the flat upside down for a full evening looking for them and as I said it's not a big gaf, you should be finding shit in about ten minutes. Neither of us would have thrown out 2 sealed envelopes with our names on it, there is just no way. We are not dickheads. We seriously have to find them.

Object Number 4 - This was this morning, Tara had given me her laser card to do a shop with yesterday and home I came with the bags of food, I then went on to make, without a shadow of a doubt, the greatest bolognaise sauce that the world has ever seen (James Early & Eva Bartley, I still want to organise a competition). Tara came home, I whipped her up a bowel and, of course, she adored it, my bro popped around for a bit of a chat and we later passed out. Cut to the next morning. 'Jaaaaccck, where is my caaaarrrd?' and then the search began. I was not letting this one go, I remember seeing the card when I was in the flat last night. Come on, Jack, do what your Da taught you all these years. Pick a corner and work your way out. Which is exactly what I did, an hour and a half later, I had made my way into my office, a place where I hadn't been in about 48 hours, there the card was at the bottom of a plastic bag that . . . . . Holy Shit, I just the biggest fuckin chill, I am scaring the shit out of myself, I have to stop writing. Here listen I’ll talk to youse later.

Oh No I Gotta Go Back To Schooooooool Again

I am going back to school . . . . . . . yes, I got so fucking irritated yesterday morning trying to browse the internet looking for a job and eventually coming to the conclusion that my diploma that I so deservedly earned back in 2002 couldn't be more redundant if it tried, I am so sick of this free lance bullshit, every couple of months you are searching high and low, you are constantly aware of your cash, I have had enough, that is it. I have signed up for a Business Studies Night Course in April & a (wait for it) full time, Drama teaching course starting in August. Yes, I am not bullshiting you, . . . . . . . . . I will explain how this happened

How did I do this in one afternoon, you might be asking. Well, I just strolled down to my local FAS office, in I strolled, signed up and had a meeting with a very pleasant oul'one named Betty. We browsed throw their courses and we spoke about me. It was savage. We picked my whole professional life apart, year by year, and discussed what the fuck I've been doing with myself. At first, I felt very depressed and started to question why I thought this might of been a good idea but then we started to go threw all the positives, well, I was thinking to myself, I’m actually alright here. She even started talking about this blog, and she convinced me, wait til you hear this, that it’s not that what I'm doing that is wrong but its what I'm not doing. . . . . . Okay, as clear as mud but I'm gonna go along with it for the moment. 'You need to go back and start from scratch but take with you the little that you have done' . . . . . . . Okay, starting to get depressed again. . . . 'but use them in a positive light.' . . . . . . . Okay, now, I'm just confused but it all cool, because this oul'one smells great, I love birds that smell nice.

But anyways, I left with a slight spring in my step after signing up for 2 courses, looking forward to the future. . . okay the business one is only 2 nights a week but come August, that drama teaching course is full time, it will be the same hours as school. . . . . . . Jesus, that is some commitment, I am gonna be going back to school . . . . Holy Shit, for years I wanted it back, ye know, the routine of it all, you start then and you finish then. Everything is laid out and organised for you. I remember my first year out of college back in 2002, I was so kind of freaked out of the lack of routine and that for the first time in my life, I had to make my own time table. For so many years i.e. your whole life, between your folks and your teachers, they pretty much ran my life, all you had to do was just sit back and let shit happen. Well, that’s what I did anyway, that probably has a lot to do with the 'getting my shit together' part of my life.

But I'm excited now, I'm going back to college in August, I just got to sort shit out between then and now. . . . . . . . Wow, I'm going back to college, I loved college, I can’t wait now, LETS GET FUCKING LOCKED.

Day 1 Of Seriously Trying To Job

For the final couple of weeks of panto I was saying to myself, 'Jesus, I cannot wait to do nothing for a while. I literally cannot wait to do nothing.' It's all I could think about. I made a promise to myself that I was going to do pretty much fuck all for the duration of February, fuck it, I deserved it. I have been none stop for the last 3 months.

I said to myself, February, the month of February, it’s got a couple of potential deadly weekends in it.

First, I have Valentines weekend on the 14th, which is never this ‘pain in the arse’ holiday as it is for so many boyfriends out there, it just consists of me & Tara grabbing a bite to eat and then hitting the gargle for about 48 hours. Amazing crack.

Second, I have my birthday on the 19th which when I was kid was the greatest count down ever, but as the years have gone by, it has come less and less significant. I actually had to stop and think about how old I was going to be this year for a minute until it does hit me, yes, I am going to be 29 . . . . . . . fuck, . . . . . . . here listen, I'm sure I'll have a blog closer to the 19th that will delve into my inner terror of getting older so I think I will leave going into that subject until then. But, yeah, my birthday, not a massive celebration any more but definitely a potential savage weekend.

And lets not forget the 6 Nations that commences throughout the month that is February, which I have been eagerly awaiting coming to the end of panto. ps those French cunts are going down on Saturday.

So you are all probably going ('all' . . . . . 'all' I love the way I think there is loads of people actually reading this drivel), but you are all probably going - 'well, how are you enjoying it, Jack? Here you are, first week of February over, 3 more to come, how is it? You must be really enjoying yourself' and to be pretty honest with 'all' of you, all I can say is - 'I am so bored.'

I am bored off my tits, I thought as soon as I got off, I’d be getting my shit together with Radiomade, throwing myself into doing up my new gaf and just generally having constant crack but . . . . . . . no, I haven't,

All I've done with Radiomade is fuck up 2 podcasts with Greg, if you want to listen to the 2nd fuck up attempt, its up on www.radiomade.ie and you can listen and laugh at those 2 clueless buffoons as they try to construct something is semi presentable, you would think after doing the podcast for a season and a half now that it might of gotten more professional, more structured, more fucking quality, more less shit but no, it’s pretty much the opposite. The site looks like shit as well.

I got bored of doing the gaf so quickly aswell, I finally realised the amount of useless crap that I have accumulated over the years, it is actually ridicules, I don't know where all my clothes have gone especially all my socks, they have all seemed to just vanish and I still can't keep my mind off the fact that I cant find Eamon, our pet cactus, amongst all this crap.

And as for the crack, you must be joking. Well, I had a bit of buzz during the weekend but during the week, I'm farting around the gaf, occasionally try to mount a picture on the wall and fail miserably at it and then maybe head into the jacks to rub one out, then realise half way through that your alone in your own gaf and that you don't have to go into the jacks to do it, then maybe afterwards have a shower and whilst in the shower take a piss for a laugh and suddenly remember that you read once that pissing on your foot can get rid of athletes foot, but then you remember, of course, you don't have athletes foot anymore, you got rid of it when you Ma got you this special cream but piss on it anyway, just in case it might come back.

This is my life at the moment, and it is depressing the fuck out of me, I have come to the conclusion, I gotta gets me a fucking job.

Day 1 of the search - Ready, Steady, Go! . . . . . jobs.ie . . . . . now, I'm even more depressed. . . . . . . . I can do none of these jobs.

Brian Kennedy - Meteor Lifetime Achivement Award Winner

Something just makes me want to fucking explode when in my extremely exciting life, I sit in on my Friday night watching the Late Late Show and the first guest is Brian Kennedy and he is announced as the most recent recipient of the Meteor Lifetime Achievement Award. I’m gonna say that again Lifetime Achievement Award. Now I don’t know about youse but a Lifetime Achievement Award should normally be given to someone who has actually achieved a lifetime of work in whatever industry is giving the award. Jesus, even if Brian Kennedy was ninety I wouldn’t be giving his drippy mug a lifetime achievement award.

I can just see it now, a load of like PR birds sitting around organizing the Meteor Awards

‘Okay, what about this year Lifetime Achievement Award?’

‘Oh, I don’t know . . . . . . What about Ronan Keating?’

‘Well, he got it, like, three years ago, so we can’t give it to him.’

‘Okay, well, who else is there to give it to.’

‘I don’t know . . . . . . Kieth Duffy?’

‘No, we are giving him the Lifetime Achievement at the IFTAs so that like wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Okay, . . . . . . . . . well, I don’t know, who else is there?’

‘What about that lovely guy from Belfast?’

‘Yeah, what’s his name? yeah he has been around for donkey’s’

Get your fucking shit together, girls, if your gonna pick some to give that award to pick someone who has back log of quality like Richie Kavanagh.

Anyway the bottom line is I’m just pissed off that 44 Inch Chest was shite and I want to take my frustration out on some poor unfortunate gobshite like Brian Kennedy, what a fuckin cheap shot? I didn’t want to admit it but it’s true, they got that film so wrong.

44 Inch Chest - it will be good, I hope

Right, lets start from the start, Myself & Greg, for about a year, we used to some how find our way back to his oul'ones gaf at about 7 on a Sunday morning and a help us come down in peace, we used to stick on 'Sexy Beast', that Jonathan Glazer film with Ray Winstone & Ben Kingsley in it ( If you haven't seen it, get your ass out and buy a copy ) and we for the last couple of years, we have been awaiting the second coming. That day had come in the form of 44 Inch Chest.

I checked out what they were saying in the newspapers, expecting to see rave reviews but they were shockingly average to dodgy. They must not be getting it I say to myself, I can’t wait to see this fucker. I checkout the trailer on you tube again, it looks fucking deadly. All I had for the next week –

‘Do fancy going to Avatar?’

‘No, I don’t fancy going to Avatar, no thanks, the idea of Titanic with blue people and 3d glasses can go fuck itself. I want to go to a dark, gritty, cockney gangster flick by the name of 44 Inch.’

‘What, that sounds shit.’

‘Shut up’

But the next thing that happened was the biggest shock of all, I’m in Quiznos enjoying one of those all day breakfast sandwich they have there when I receive a text from Greg, the text read –

Hay, bro, wat de crack, went 2 c 44 inch chest there and it was prob the worst film I hav ever seen. John Hurt is so crap in it all he said cunt throughout the hole thing.

No way – I reply

Yeah, I am so pissed off

I then start question Greg’s judgement, there is no way it is shit. It has taken 9 years to write this bad boy, so here I am, I have downloaded it and I’m gonna give it a watch right now, I’m excited, terrified, worried, and really looking forward to it, it is going to be quality, I know it. I will be back with a full page review in about 3 hours,

A Month's Apologies

My friends, it is time for me to kick straight back into my blog, a hundred thousands apologies for my month absence. I promise that from now on, I will stay true to it from now on. I will stay faithful on my crusade to talk shit to people who are bothered to read. I will not stop until my pointless opinions are shoved down as many throats as possible.

It's unbelievable how not having the internet is a nightmare for this sort of thing, well seeing that it is on the internet, you would think that wouldn't you but going out to find some freezing internet cafe is just not an option. As you probably know, if you've been reading this over the last while, that my life has been taken up by a pantomime with the most gruelling schedule known to man. Last November, I waved goodbye to friends and family and absorbed myself in a 2 show a day run that seemed to continue with no end in sight. And 'Ah' you must be saying 'Ah, but you found the time to write them when you were in December.' and this is very true. Back then we had the internet . . . . . yes, like every normal company, we had the internet . . . . . . Like a bunch of professional adults, we had a lovely wireless connection that kept everyone quiet and everyone happy but it was taken away from us. For the month of January, we were net free in work.

This all also co-insided with me moving house. Along with everything else in our house, the wireless had been cut off from lack of payment so back in my freezing house, not only was it as Baltic as a motherfucker but we had RTE and a very fuzzy TV3 to keep us company. The fuzzy TV3 made it look better.

When we moved in to our new place in Harold's Cross, of course, NTL needed 2 and half weeks to sort their shit out and hook us up. Some of the lads said that that was quick.

So here I am, back with a vengeance and ready give it the big boy shit!. . . . . . . .. . . . So . . . . . Well

Anyway here’s a little something I'm working on, tell me what you think, I heard this conversation on the way home and I just had to adapt it into some sort of script –

Int, Pub, daytime

Two men (Paddy & Sammy) sit at a bar with two half filled pints in front of them

Paddy
Do ye know what’s deadly film?

Sammy
What’s that?

Paddy
The Shawshank Redemption

Sammy
Deadly fuckin film, that is.

Paddy
Fuckin quality!

Sammy
Proper movie!

Paddy
Real Quality, it is.

Sammy
Did ye see they made a play of it?

Paddy
I think it was book, man.

Sammy
Yeah, but it was a play aswell

Paddy
I think it was a play before it was a film, was it.

Sammy
It must of been

Paddy
An Adaptation!

Sammy
The very word. Did ye see it there when it was on.

Paddy
What the play? No! I haven’t been to much theatre.


Sammy
Fuckin Quality, though.

Paddy
Was it good

Sammy
Your man was the image on your man, Andy, in it.

Paddy
Red

Sammy
No, Red is the Coloured fella

Paddy
Morgan

Sammy
Yeah, Andy is the fella who was played by your man

Paddy
And was it as good as the film?

Sammy
Ah no, but was the still good, same story like but, ye know they can do the same things

Paddy
Shawshank Redemption, and ye know, it was nominated for, like, 12 oscars and won fuck all of them

Sammy
None of them!

Paddy
None of them

Sammy
fuckin ejjits! Who they give te?

Paddy
They gave to that yoke

Sammy
What?

Paddy
That yoke. Borin piece a shit !

Sammy
What? Drivin Miss Daisy

Paddy
Ah, ye know it, fuckin shit it is

Sammy
What?

Paddy
What’s it called.

Sammy
Whose in it?

Paddy
Ah your man, whats his name?

Sammy
Who?

Paddy
What's his name, ah Jaysis.

Sammy
What was he in?

Paddy
Your man. He was the baddie in Silence of the Lambs?

Sammy
Your man, Anthony Hopkin?

Paddy
No, Ye know, the other fella.

Sammy
Your man who had all the birds down the well

Paddy
No, in the other one

Sammy
The other one?

Paddy
The third installment of it.

Samy
The third?

Paddy
Yeah, the third movie, well its actually the first one

Sammy
What do mean?

Paddy
It was the third one but was actually the first one, like what they did with Star Wars.

Sammy
Star Wars?

Paddy
Yeah, like the way they made the first ones, then they made the second ones years later but the second ones were actually the first ones

Sammy
Oh the prequals

Paddy
Yeah, the prequals, the exact word

Sammy
What about it?

Paddy
Well, the third silence of the lambs movie is the prequal to the first one

Sammy
Oh yeah, I seen that years ago, that film is a remake

Paddy
What?

Sammy
Yeah, they remade that movie from another movie made back in the 80s

Paddy
They remade it?

Sammy
Yeah, well, its pretty much the same film, except your man from CSI is in it.

Paddy
Your man from Forest Gump?

Sammy
No, your man who played Pat Garett in Young Guns 2.

Paddy
Who?

Sammy
Your man who shoots Emilo Estavez.

Paddy
Him!, who the fuck is he?

Sammy
He is one of these actors, he always turns up in shite. Its pretty good.

Paddy
What is? Young Guns 2 or the silence of the lambs film?

Sammy
The first Silence of the lambs film, the one that got remade, what was the name of it?

Paddy
Red Dragon

Sammy
No, No

Paddy
It is.

Sammy
No, the earlier one is called something different.

Paddy
Is it better than the new one.

Sammy
Yeah, but its real 80s, ye know

Paddy
There is one thing I don't get, right. Why do ye make film again if it grand the first time

Sammy
Like Charlie and the chocolate factory

Paddy
Exactly like Charlie and the chocolate factory, the original grand the way it is, Johnny Depp, ye must be jokin me,

Sammy
Like Psycho

Paddy
Did they remake Pyscho?

Sammy
Yeah, but in colour and your man from Old School is your man

Paddy
Why would anyone do something like da? Was it any good?

Sammy
Shite

Paddy
What fuckin shite bag thought it would be a good idea to remake that classic, and make it shite of all things

Sammy
Gus Van Sant

Paddy
Who?

Sammy
Gus Van Sant, the fella who made Good Will Hunting.

Paddy
Good Will Humpin

Sammy
Shaving Ryans Privates

Paddy
Saturday Night Beaver

Sammy
Romancing the bone

Paddy
Edward Penishands

Sammy
White men cant hump

Paddy
Schindler's fist

Sammy
When Harry ate Sally


Paddy
In Diana Jones and the temple of Poon

Sammy
Have ye seen that, have ye?

Paddy
What?

Sammy
The new Indiana Jones film?

Paddy
What, Indiana Jones and Kingdom of the Skulls

Sammy
The Golden Skulls

Paddy
No, not yet

Sammy
Yeah, its just out on DVD

Paddy
Any use?

Sammy
Shite

Paddy
Is the little chinese fella in it but older

Sammy
Who?

Paddy
Ye know the little chinese fella with all the inventions

Sammy
Who?

Paddy
Remember, the little fella that used to hang around, 'Dr Jones, Dr. Jones.

Sammy
Oh yeah,

Paddy
Yeah, with all the inventions.

Sammy
Inventions?

Paddy
Yeah, he had all inventions, like the boxing mit under his coat, and the slick shoes.

Sammy
Slick shoes?

Paddy
Yeah, when all the lads are after them, when there goin across the log, he pulls the
sting and a load of oil comes out and they slip on it.

Sammy
I don't remember this

Paddy
What? Ye do.

Sammy
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, the little chinese fella?

Paddy
Yeah!

Sammy
I don't remember inventions, man

Paddy
Ah ye do,

Sammy
Oh, I think your talkin about that this with the kids

Paddy
Wha?

Sammy
The one with the kids.

Paddy
Kids?

Sammy
Remember, the own with the Fertelli’s are after them

Paddy
The Fertelli’s?

Sammy
Yeah, at the start of the film, the oul’one breaks them out of prison



Any ideas?