Ireland - Second Richest Country in the EU

Aren't we a great bunch? What, with our lovely big roads and lovely big apartments, and our lovely big SSIA's and our lovely big SUV's. And our overdrafts, 100% mortgages, consolidation loans, long commutes, 3rd world transport systems and dire health services?? What about our lack of tangible built heritage? Or our shocking lack of class and education??. Are we REALLY great with all that money we have??

According to a report I saw in the Metro (I wouldn't insult my arse - and if it's good enough for 97% of Luas travellers then it's nowhere near good enough for me) we're now the SECOND RICHEST COUNTRY in the EU. This is the latest in a long list of pointless reports to boost our egos. Obviously, these are Government published attempts to stem any ill feelings we might have towards the fact we live in a shit hole. THE SECOND RICHEST COUNTRY in the EU and the fact it was clapped across the headlines just show how obsessed we are with money. How we've essentially abandoned any thoughts of culture and pride and have invited in the wrecking ball.

Recently enough, when challenged on public amenities, the dark overlord talked, along with the usual "aren't we a great little this and a great fucking that", of 'ambitious' plans for the redevelopment of Rathmines Pool. He gushed when he explained that the whole footprint of this once prominent local amenity would be developed to provide much needed resources for the Rathmines posse. He positively beamed when he told us that as well as 100+ apartments, the public access pool would be replaced by a state of the art, membership only leisure centre. As he didn't say 'A Public Space, for double the price'. Involved in this exciting and much needed development is the demolition of two elegant early Georgian mansions. They'll be swept away for a Spar.

Here, I've a list for you:

BIGGEST FUCKER ON THE PLANET LIVES IN IRELAND - (I'll give you a clue, it's Bertie Ahern)

Soupy Norman and John O'Donoghue

Got this clip today of Soupy Norman. It looks like a TV3 production such is the bad level of quality but you get the gist. It was far from the funniest segment on this episode, but what you gonna do, sue me?

While I'm at it, this from Naked Camera is a guilty pleasure of mine. I think PJ Gallaher is a bit of genius, and the last 40 seconds of this clip proves it.

Other funnies:

Dylan Moran, from Monster, Monster and Black Books

Classic Dave Allen

Apres Match rugby spoof

David O'Doherty

And the 'Clown' Comhairle..

When we were Young

So as to prevent an onslaught of birthday cards, Disgrace isn't going to divulge the date of his birth, but let's just say it was a 'couple' of Popes ago. Additionally, a lot of you may think of the big 'D' as being an androgynous and sexless being. I can at last reveal that ND is most definitely butch and despite being a technological manifestation, 'boots up' like the best of them. So, like all at Château D'isgrace, we like to look our best. In order to do this, we have to try and look younger. We balm. We scrub. We spin. We splash. We nibble. We barricade ourselves against the onslaught of age.

We're talking full on restoration here.

All this containment is fine and dandy as long as it works, but it means nothing if you can't back it up. This I'm afraid mean involves ACTING young also. I have clean, relaxed skin. You would swear you caught a glimpse of yourself in my cheeks if I allowed you get that close, and my hair, bouncy and full, is as vitalic as that of a thoroughbred stallion. I dress to impress too. Disgrace looks stunning in (or indeed out) of a crisp pair of booted denims with a sloganed Tee stretched across his rippling chest. Put simply, ND blazes a trail.

There is a but.

Dubliner Magazine talks of the fading glory of being a lad. It warns you to drop the charade. Bloat it out. Forget about Nivea and get stuck into Calpon. Ditch the limited edition lilac cons and slip in some Marks and Spencer's loafers. Marry the first, least ugly girl you can find. Stay in on weeknights. Forget about bands with 'the' in the title.

Essentially Dubliner, and it's not the first time they've advised this, are suggesting you'd be better off completely dead.

ND has a friend. A real, blood filled, human pal. We'll call him 'Marvin'. Marvin is 31. He lives in Rathmines. He's looked better, but he's looked worse too. He's had more hair, but then again, he's had less too. He may have a bit of a spread, but he can be comforted that his belly is filled with 'fancy stuff'. He literally drowns his face in Anti-aging uber replenishing super duper revitalising wrinkle annihilating fuck juice wonder cream every morning and goes about his business. His jeans are genuine Diesel (not like the Dublin City Centre con job) and his hair has been twisted and manipulated more times than the voting public of Ireland. He looks the shit. He looks pretty damn good. He looks 27.

All good?

Except he acts 31. He gets tired in the evening. He drinks wine whilst cooking dinner. He wakes up at night screaming 'SERVICE LEVEL REPORTS'. His nights out have become 'afternoon tea'. He gets all 'gooey' inside when he sees babies. "Whelan's?? Where's that???" he asks. His iPod is never full. But at least he has one. Sometimes he wraps himself up in the past and uses that as his excuse.

And this is where he's got it all wrong.

Marvin needs to either act his age (and burn the threads), or act his shoesize.

Oh btw, Marvin is actually..... me

Killer (well, burglar) on the loose

The bring back McDowell campaign gathers momentum

The Zimmers - Old is the new Young

Old people. Like Volcanoes of unplanned odours. Making Music

The Revolution will not be Televised

Those charmers at onefortheroad have come around to my way of thinking and kindly doffed thier caps in my direction too..

It's nice to feel less alone sometimes..

Britain's got Problems

A couple of posts back, I laid into TV3 for showing a Variety show called 'Britain's got talent'. I didn't go into it then, but my reasons were many. One of them was because I honestly believe TV3 to be the media wing of the Devil. Another, and the main reason in my eyes, was the fact that this show, a celebration of British talent, was being broadcast on a Irish television station. Now, some of you will point out that TV3 get nothing from the government and they can show what they like, and isn't Mark Cagney a great inspiration to us all etc etc.. But I take massive offence to this. RTE are losing valuable advertising revenue to these losers and because of this, home grown programming is suffering on the national carrier. TV3's 'local' output stretches to a breakfast show hosted by a bunch of gormless dickheads that looks like it's broadcast from Dundrum Mental Hospital, an 'entertainment' magazine that would turn your stomach and a News show that is so cheap and tacky you can pick it up in Hector Greys for €2.

And then there was Keith Duffy's box.

Here's the thing though.

I watched Britain's got talent.

One of the most disturbing things about this (other than the parade of bed-sit murderers that appeared on it) was the fact the 'the Irish' could vote. Why on Gods earth would anyone in this country want to vote in this? Where was the benefit for us? Oh, yeah.. 10c from every call went towards the Royal Variety Fund. Bless

The other disturbing thing about this horrible experience was the performers. They ranged from a singing Bookie to a toothless 6 years old, and a couple of idiotic barmen to a guy piggybacking his brothers death.

So, a weird looking guy won after tugging at 'the nations' heartstrings by singing Nessum Dorma. People cried and wailed. Now, If Ian Huntley sang this to me while he pinned both my cats to the wall, I'd probably cry too. It's that kind of song. But the Brits didn't care. It captured the mood of a country still trying to get over "7/7". Anyway, he won out by beating a bunch of losers that were so offensive my TV kept switching itself off. There was a guy who used every opportunity a mike was waved in front of his face to tell 'us' that his Brother was dead and he was left to care for his two children (These children were paraded about regularly too). He would then break into 'tears in heaven'..

Give. me. a. break.

One of the other acts was a 6 years old girl who should be at home playing with her Sindy doll or whatever but instead was attempted to sing like an adult. The 20 hours a day practice really showed and she's a credit to her parents. There were other acts too. All of them uniformly shit and the sort off people you would leave your kids with, if you despised your kids and wanted to see the back of them that is.

And, let us not forget that the show was presented by Ant and Dec.

Come back Keith Duffy, all is forgiven.

Board Rage

Board rage at full swing over at Boards.ie

It seems that Disgrace dropped his good buddy Fake Empire right into a seething pit of angry, up-for-it, county coloured GAA boyos and left him to it. 115 posts later, and Fake is still smartly dressed, still fighting his corner and still providing a very entertaining discussion too...

Highlights from Day 2 includes one user saying to Fake "sigh.. just because you have an enormous head does not necessarily mean you have an enormous brain..."

Fakey meanwhile has been dropping the one-liners like they're molten lava

"One last thing before I open a bottle of 97 Malbec... "
"I'll try... but my enormous brain is a weapon even I can't control sometimes!"
"I'm a fan of Rugby. I can watch soccer. But fencing is really my thing"

Take the points Fake, and the goals will come

Fun with Dick and Tara (Jane was demolished last week)

I know a lot of people are blogging about this as we speak, but the final act of the former Minister for the Destruction of the Environment, Dick 'Head' Roche, was to sign off on the completion of the M3. You might remember the M3 as being the road that carves through the ancient landscape of the Skyrne Valley, opening up hundreds of acres of soon to be rezoned land to commercial development. I won't bore you with the details of my opinions again because you're going to hear a lot more about this when the UN get involved. Anyhow, Dick Roche is an absolute cretin.

John 'grown man on a bicycle' Gormley says he cannot reverse this decision, so fat lot of use it was getting him into government then

More about it in the Indo


Sigh..


No witty closing comment today, I don't feel like it

Sticks and Stones

The Fake Empire posse are at it again. And again.

And all we read is TV listings? Well, since when did CNN start publishing newspapers??

This Party's over..

There was a time when the only green thing FF were interested in was money. Now, courtesy of some very dodgy alternatives, they have had no choice but to seduce the Green Party. Or at least, what was the Green party.

Roger Gartland, founder of the party, says that he feels 'betrayed' by the deal and has referred to details of the agreement as being unbelievably bad'.

According the Times of Ireland, The Greens have said they will now no longer oppose the M3 Motorway through Tara, or indeed any proposed or current road projects. Previously they had strongly objected to Tara and have been very vocal in opposing badly sited infrastructure. They will stand by too, as the US continue to use Shannon for high energy pit-stops to and from war. Corporate donations, one of the big issues in the Greens pre-election blurb, will continue, unaffected (although the Greens have stipulated that all envelopes used are recycled).

They have however secured a WHOPPING €50 million on education.. Yes that's right, €50 million (Approx the price of Christiano Ronaldo and a couple of crayons), and an incredible ONE Cabinet position. The planet too will breath a SIGH OF RELIEF as we plan to cut our industrial emissions, an act which will reduce world levels by an astonishing 0.0013%

Lively discussion on Politics.ie, as always. Especially about Tara/M3. Oh, and there's also a special on at Aldi

*Picture; Green Party's John Gormley and Taoiseach Bertie Ahern during talks

Prank Garda Call

Todays Business:

• A Garda prank, found on You tube and created by someone called Ian Benjamen Kenny.. Worth listening to, as it's unfortunately, very real...
  
  
  
  
• Astute observations from Twenty Major
• Fake Empire dumbs up
• Britains Got Talent, and viewers too..

Jack Attack

The Fake Empire crew are getting noisy. It seems something I wrote here stirred them out of their 'Leuven lovin' and into full on Missile on the border mode.. I wouldn't care so much, but I'm pretty scared of Missiles.

Anyone for Blogball?

TV3 is completely shit

Look, obviously nobody watches TV3. It's understandable when you consider the rubbish they peddle. Xpose, with it's celebrity shoe size exclusives and interviews with Z list nobodies is so deeply offensive that allegedly the Vatican are considering issuing a statement about it. Ireland AM is a slow motion car crash being replayed slowly, and in slow motion. Like a Car crash, happening very, very slowly before your eyes.

I presume therefore, that most of you have de-tuned it from your television sets or have at the very least, destroyed these TV's and installed a fresh batch of glaucoma on your eyes. For those of you that haven't, you may have noticed that this "channel" has just launched a brand new entertainment show. The show is called "Britain's Got Talent". I'll leave it there before I get violent.

You will need to go here, and then here

Soupy Norman

The best thing RTE has done in 24 years.. Barry Murphy (apres match) originally gave the idea to BBC's Time Trumpet (who broadcasted this clip) but RTE, obviously still smarting after losing Father Ted and the Belgian Election coverage, came up trumps with this new series..

Working on uploading some clips HERE so check back when you've feeling lonely

Twink would be spinning in her grave

The Jacks are Back

When National Disgrace was younger, he would spend his Saturdays being harassed by older men. They admired his bulk. Of well built stock, the young Disgrace was a beefy lad with an eye for mischief and this drove the gentlemen of Templeogue wild with excitement. He would feel the searing heat of eyes surveying him as he leapt for a high ball or dived to his right to tip a ball east of a goalpost. His athleticism locally was becoming legendary and it wasn't long before he was being courted, on his own doorstep, by semi-salivating grown men, with balls in their hands. Yep, that's right, big O'Neill's balls.

You see, Junior Disgrace was being hounded by the GAA. Above height for his age, above bulk for his age and a proven soccer player, he had become quite the commodity. Constantly being picked for teams that he'd never heard of, the manager would call to the door on the day of the match with the news, ball in hand (as above). Disgrace however, dodged these proposals each and every Saturday and Sunday morning for 10 years. He didn't like GAA you see. His father, a giant of a man, played Minor Football for Dublin and the nation expected the nubile disgrace to follow. He didn't.

Out of this grew a resentment for all things Gaelic Games. The badge of honour, worn proudly by thousands of Dubliners on match day, became an effigy of everything that he hated. The people; only above base level scum. The sport; bland, unexciting, violent and badly organised. The players; religiously anal, brutally obsessed and too, violent. The GAA; bigoted, exploitive and backwards. He would raise an eye to heaven when someone brought up the Sunday game (the other eye would be keeping a close watch on his wallet) and scoff at people who waxed enthusiastically about Charlie Murphy or Graham Geragthy. He even shouted for the Ozzies in the compromise(d) rules series.

Then it changed

National Disgrace was alerted to memories he had locked out of his mind by a dear friend. Memories of a long hot summer, when the land was being stalked closely by a Tiger called Celtic. Dublin Versus Meath. 1991. Four games. History. Slowly but surely, the curtain fell. It was a joyous occasion back then and watching the clips now, it still is a joyous occasion. "Ok" said Disgrace, "So what? A few good games?? A few good sunny days?? The country was on a high, it could of been a hot air balloon race and people would still be reminiscing so."

If he wasn't convinced, he soon would be.

"The Jacks are Back" screamed Phil Lynott at Dalymount park as the Lizzy began an outdoor gig to ten's of thousands of Dubliners in 1977, referring to Dublin's win against Kerry that afternoon.

If it's good enough for Phillo, then it's way too good for me.

So, on Sunday the 3rd of June, 2007, National disgrace found himself and the above persistent friend, mid Hogan, enjoying a beer and watching one of the great games. It was of course Dublin v Meath. It was of course a draw. It was of course great.

This Jack is back.

National Disgrace 2007

Robocop 4

National Disgrace was heading towards some suburban wilderness over the weekend when he unfortunately snuck a glance at Robocop, officially Dublin's ugliest and illest judged building of modern times.. To be honest, the attached picture renders it in a semi romantic light but don't be fooled. In the flesh, this is a soul destroying creation. It's ground floor dead-frontage making the 'public' area in front an intimidating place. Lurking beside the Sick and Indigent Roomkeepers building like a grinning sex beast, if buldings could talk, this one would simply say 'I AM UGLY AS FUCK'.

There's plenty of discussion about it (and the hundreds of other badly designed buildings in Dublin) over on Archiseek.

Don't expect to meet a girlfriend there though

Edit: Hello to all our friends from Archiseek who have stumbled opon this blog, I hope we can still be friends?

Jo Le Burger

It could of been great.

A burger, in full National Disgrace regalia, for all to enjoy, at Dublin's newest, gourmet burger, hip comicbook menu, achingly cool eating joint.. But, despite tasting the bitter tang of runners up relish, I have been pegged as 'one to watch' by the ever inspiring Fake Empire crew. Comparing me to celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, the Empire have suggested that I could be on the cusp of something great. They romanticised about how my penchant for Saxa White and Oriental Spices could see me elevated to something even more Godlike than I currently am.

"The Burgers are only the beginning" they prophesied "This guy can create art from vulgarity".

Fake Empire have been guiding cultural traffic around Dublin for as long as I can remember and it's a great endorsement of me to hear them compare my culinary skills to that of a wise old Camel.. As we all know, camels have now developed sophisticated Palettes and, as can be seen by their ferrying of Tom Doorley from restaurant to restaurant, they have begun to make serious inroads into the diner culture of Dublin. Today Digestive Biscuits, tomorrow something else.

Join me, if you will, on my tour of Irelands school kitchens.

Together, We will rid this nation of personal sprawl and stale tastebuds