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?

Beware - Over 18s Only

A lot of people have approached me since starting this blog with the idea, that in order for me to keep it going, there are a couple of things that I just can’t talk about or go into

‘Like what?’ I’d say

‘Like Drugs.’

‘Well, my friend, I disagree. Wholeheartedly!’

The whole point is that you are being as truthful with yourself as possible in the most public way possible and not to think about the fact that colleagues and relations could be reading it. Why would I bother sitting here, writing away, leaving out important details of every story just because people who read it might not approve.

That is why my topic today is cocaine.

Cocaine. Wow, I feel so bold and naughty just writing the word. Cocaine, holy shit, I feel like I’m on coke just saying it. The balls on me, wow, check me out, fair play to me . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I’m an idiot.

But anyway, I’ve never really been mad into my coke, I never really had the bank roll to possibly sustain a regular use of it but every once in a while, on a special occasion - someone’s birthday, Trinity Ball, the last night of a show, whatever – me and some mate would go halves on a tasty ton bag and into it we would go throughout the night and probably by the end of it, we would be wondering what the fuck did we just spend a hundred euro on. It’s just too dear for the regular Joe soap. But do not fret, all you coke lovers that have suddenly found yourself on the dole, the answer is here.

I don’t know what genius is responsible for this revelation but you can now buy coke out of shops - LEGALLY. I can’t go into who and where because I don’t know them and also I don’t want to fuck it up for the lads who are doing it, but these lads, using only herbal and legal substances, have come up with a menu different types of substitute coke. I swear to fuck and I know, I know what you might be thinking but, trust me, I was the same. I hated those herbal party pill things. All they did was just agitated the hell out of me and keep me awake for what seemed like a week. But there we were me and a couple of people passing this shop. Stop, look and we head in to see if the rumours were true.

We are greeted by an extremely polite and knowledgeable gent with gigantic dreadlocks

‘Hi Guys, How can I help you?’ He asks

After taking a quick gander at quite a long menu. ‘Yeah, I’ll have half a gram of Blow, please, my dear man.

‘A fine choice, sir, how would one like it packaged?

‘A cellophane bag, would be sufficient’

‘That will be twenty euro’

And off we went on our travels. Now, sceptic that I am, I was not expecting much, to be perfectly honest I was expecting pretty much exactly what I got off those herbal yokes. Shite!

Later that night, we were out having a lot of crack, and when I say a lot, I mean gargling it up to the fucking max, when it just dawned on me. I have that half gram of shit in my pocket from earlier. Up I went to give it a try. Whap, it went up the right nostril and off I headed back down to join everyone . . . . . . . let me tell you, it was savage. Not only that, it was better than any other illegal stuff I’ve ever tried in the Ireland. Which now that I think of it, isn’t that hard but still whoop ouwa that. Who’s having the crack, Jacko’s havin the crack?

But as it was with those dodgy herbal pills and as it was with the mushrooms, it’s just a matter of time in this country, word will get back to some government official, and even though it hasn’t affected anyone’s health or even that it isn’t causing unsavoury behaviour, they will pass some law that it will become illegal. What is the crack? When are our government going to realise that all we want to do is put each other in inebriated states and not just in an alcoholic fashion.

Get your fuckin shit together, lads, and if you don’t know how to. Get a bit of that into you – Sniff!

Giving Back Jackets?

You are never gonna believe what happen as I entered work on this Baltic evening. Just to continue on from the 'jacket getting nicked' blog. I stroll into work, I'm freezing, I'm starving. I sit up at the bar at the green room; pour myself a nice warm cup of coffee as I wait for my microwave dinner to finish cooking. I take a sip -

'Jesus, this day is getting better, this is exactly what I need.'

The coffee was quality. Bing! Thai curry ready, have a taste -

'Holy Shit, these things are tasty. Jesus, this day is going very well so far.'

But nothing, nothing could get me ready for how savage my day was about to get. One of the wardrobe girls, Clare, approaches me,

'Is your name John?' she asks me.

'Yeah,' I say 'but nobody has ever called me that, why?'

She goes 'You know Alva?'

'Yeah, she's the other costume girl who was covering for people.'

'She has your passport.'

I'm like 'What?'

'Yeah,' Clare says, 'one of her room-mates accidentally took your coat on home from the Shaw on New Years Day.'

I swear I jumped off the stool and picked her up with joy. Get in there, how fucking random can you get. I have never seen anyone I work with in the Shaw, but supposedly she had gone home with my jacket which she was made to put on the bouncer in the Shaw, Bunk from the Wire as Paddy amazingly pointed out, he is the fucking image. Anyway, she went home, realised that she was wearing someone else’s jacket, pulled out my passport and went 'Fuck!' She showed the passport to her room-mate, who so happened to be working with me, and bing bang bosh, I get my fucking jacket back with passport and wallet intact – Get the fuck in there.

Robbing Jackets?

Just to be very clear. Yes, my jacket was nicked last night, I had this sweet dark navy suit jacket that I bought for the bargain price of 30 bills from the secret gem that is Lucy's Lounge in Temple Bar, and not to blow my own trumpet, I looked smokin in it. It was the type of jacket that was probably worth about five or six times the price it actually was. It kept you warm as hell, and for that reason, the only thing I had underneath was some t-shirt I nicked from Greg a few months ago.

I came into the Shaw after work, ready to rejoin my mates on there madgeouvit journey into the next decade. I was knackered from the night before, from Siobhan & Molly’s party on Bloomfield Ave. I had only had about 2 hours kip and was in the Gaiety to do Daisy for 1.30 but, at this stage, work was over and I felt a lovely second wind coming on. I strolled in, put my jacket and bag by the table where everyone was sitting, ordered myself two Long Island Ice Tea, in a pint glass and things were starting to look funky as fuck. My mates, Russell & Aaron were playing away, I can’t wait until they incorporate those dumb bells into their act. There I stood, side by side with Paddy & Greg, my playing catch up was going exactly to plan. I was on the road to fuckedness. Not, like, mental fuckedness, but just ‘havin the crack’ fuckedness.

When the music went off and they were kicking people out, a select few of us were invited to stay back for one last New Years pint. Tara had been drinking for two days so her stamina levels were dropping fast so it came to a point where it was going to be a taxi home followed by some serious 'Jacko Snuggles'. All of this would be definitely become a major priority over the next half an hour.

'Let's go home, Jack.'

'Okay, Hun, no worries. Just let me get my bag and coat.'

I see my bag under the table where I had left it. I pick it up, onto my back and I start a quick search for my jacket.

' . . . . . . . . . . Where is my jacket . . . . . . . .? . Where’s my jacket . . . . . . . . . . where the fuck is my jacket.’

I search high and low for the bastard, it is no where to be found and to make it worse, do you want to know what was in the pocket? My wallet and my passport.

Now, this opens another box of irritations, loosing the jacket on one of the chilliest nights of the year is one thing but when your fucking wallet and passport are inside the fucker, it is about as deadly as getting fisted by a silverback.

Actually, the jacket is not much of a loss, I could probably head into Lucy’s Lounge tomorrow and get another one, and better one at that for cheaper but the wallet and passport. Shit Buzz.

First off, My Wallet, now, this is one of the most important thing a man can have, it is our bag, everything is inside it. I had very little cash in it, if any but I did have a load of receipts for work, which I will have to write up and worst of all, all my cards, social security card, savings account card (like that cards has ever been useful) and you know what? I was starting to like it. I had it that long that it was filled with character. Now that I think about it, it’s the longest I’ve ever had a wallet.

Then there is the passport which is another seventy squid. I’m going to Berlin next month so I’m gonna have to get that over the next while. In fact, I think I’m gonna have a bit of trouble get one for the fact that I have lost the last few.

Who the fuck steals a jacket? Hey, I know, it was cold and the person was probably didn’t have a coat, which, if I think about it, is even worse. I walked home in a t-shirt and I’m probably going to have a lovely cold to look forward to as well. I would never steal a jacket, well, I do remember nabbing that slick brown leather jacket from the Gaiety lost property area but that was different, they were there for over a year.

Anyway, I’m gonna get a poster going in the Shaw. Hopefully, the person will take pity on me and return my jacket which carries in it my wallet and passport. The poster will read –

Jacket Taken Last New Years Day @ The Shaw

If the person who accidentally took my navy suit jacket, which also so happened to have a passport with the name – John Olohan on it (Please, the John is a long story) and a fawn coloured wallet inside it and he or she feels they would like to return the jacket to it’s rightful owner, they could drop it into the Shaw or you can call me on 086 lick my hairy balls.

If you feel that it was a great steal and that this fine piece of clothing is a perfect new addition to your wardrobe, well, know this. I will find you. I will not sleep.