Thursday, July 30, 2009

A Brush with Fate


I haven’t seen his ears prick up in such a way in a long time. Even his beret had returned, going from being in his hand on the Hapenney bridge to it’s rightful resting place, his head. His grin, whilst not dazzling, or indeed containing many teeth, still lit up the TV screen. There was a spring in his step, despite the fact he was sitting down. And correct me if I’m wrong, but he also seemed to be sporting an engorged organ. But then again, he was on Miriam tonight after all..

I am talking of course about Mr. Brush Sheils.

It’s easy to imagine the scenario. The young and the wealthy are shunning the traditional bread and butter entertainment of Brush and his cohorts for something a little more flashy. You can just picture him, in only his underpants seething through the curtains as they trip past the window snorting cocaine and quaffing back Champers. They all sit down for dinner at a Michelin star whereas he tucks into his underpants for sustenance. They listen to Girls Aloud and Il Divo, whilst Brush's battered old record player crackles out ‘Me and Jimmy Magee’ on repeat. His tears, whilst a welcoming source of fluids, still hurt his face.

But we live in post-boom days now, and when the papers screamed ‘Shit, it’s over’, Brush knew what to do. He slipped the beret back on, picked up his guitar and said goodbye to the wheelie bin he’d be living in.

Saturdays Miriam was like a trip back in time. Literally, as I watched the repeat. Brush was centre of attention of course, and was flanked by an assorted bunch of fellow survivors.

The songs were new, but rung out with a comforting familiarity. We Irish have always dealt with adversity with an auld ditty. Think back to the famine (“Where’s me chips?”) and the rising (“Come out ye Black and Tans and give us a kiss”) and Brush and Co delivered once again.

Joe Duffy was there. So too were some other people. And there were jokes.

“The recession Miriam, it’s affecting everybody…I met a guy the other day who said he joined a bridge club”.

Miriam raises her eyebrows.

“He said he was jumping off next Tuesday!!”

and….

“I met a guy Miriam, you know suffering from the recession. He was biting his nails. so I asked him, are you nervous?”

“No” he said “Lunch”.

I laughed heartily. Brush is back and everything is going to be alright. Got me thinking though, you don’t actually have to be a member of a bridge club to chuck yourself off it.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Westy and the woman

m_serves-3-4-traditional-haggis

I’d met her the day I moved in. She slid in from the shadows like a competent roller skating rapist. No noise, just a slight change in temperature heralded her arrival and there she was, as if she’d always been there. It was if I’d zoomed in with a camera. It was almost like the entire room moved towards her.

The first thing I noticed was her hair. She looked a little like a drag queen Aonghus MacAnally. The roots, long confused as to it’s natural colour decided they would try a little of everything. Her eyes looked triple glazed and she seemed to have a little more grass growing out of her than the average human being. The strap had slipped off her shoulder, not in a provocative manner, but in a horror filled act of seduction that warned me if I was not careful, the other one would be next.

Westy was busy stacking all my belongings lovingly against the wall. He seemed startled by her sudden existence and emitted his usual clich├ęd Scottish “Ach Eye!!”

“Those walls have been freshly painted” she delivered in a coldness that would make a Wibbly Wobbly Wonder shiver. The room turned and she was now on the other side of me inspecting the paintwork. Without words she ordered a humbled Westy to moved the offending boxes a good 2 inches from the wall.

“ I notice you are parked in my space” she continued. Dogs 5 miles away started to bark, “you have five minutes”

I held my hand out, and introduced myself. She didn’t blink. She just sorted of hummed, like a fridge.

Westy emitted a gentle cough, nothing serious, probably just a wee bit of haggis caught in his throat. It was barely a noise. It sounded a bit like a leaf.

“This building” She said, “This building is MOSTLY owner occupied! We expect people to be quiet”. Her eyes gazed towards Westy and he retreated slightly, towards Edinburgh.

“I’m the rep for the management committee” she rasped, “And anyone causing trouble is dealt with severely!”.

Westy nearly spat out his deep fried Mars Bar.

And then she was gone. All she left behind was the feeling that we’d been stripped naked by some silent force and made wear each others clothes. That and an almost visible odour of whiskey.

“A bonny lass that” Westy said “ pure fukin hardcore hefty mingers wehey ya mink get tae china ye stink ae pishh pally ya mad auld cheese baw rocket get it up yee”

“Westy” I said “ How many Irn-Bru have you had?”

Friday, July 17, 2009

Christy does Disgrace


Bleedin Hell!!! Jayzus, the last time I was near a computer was when I waz carryin’ it out through the window of some posh feckers gaff out in Blackrock!!

Despite the above response to my initial approach, I can proudly announce that today's guest blogger on ND is Mr Christy Dignam, he of the Aslan.

Well ladz!! It’ been a rough day alright. Me and the bowzeys were down the studio dropping some tunes for the new record. Drummer guy joked that we’re the only band with more CRIMINAL records than ACTUAL records.. I didn’t know whether to laugh me bleedin hole off or take another bite of me battered sausie.. I did both to be fooking honest, and now I’ve got a raging bastard of heartburn...

Anyway, we managed one bit of the auld tuneage today.. a sort of a tribute to the late Phil Lynott (I say late, cos we invited the sap to record with us in 1982 and he still hasn’t arrived!!!.. but also cos he’s brown bread).. Called ‘Had my Phil” it was a bit of an experimento song to be honest.. I had to sing in a falsetto voice, you know, like a bird, and bleedin magee, it wasn’t aaasy.. some of the lyrics I wrote were off the jaysus North wall!! here, take a listen;

“Phil, you fill me.. I have a hole in me heart, won't you fill me hole Phil”..

The lyrics are always difficult, what with the words and the letters and stuff but one of the lads who’s been to school helped me.. He joked afterwards that I was a ‘total and utter idiot’. If his parents are readin, I’d try the liffey (wink).

Anyway, the recession is deadly isn’t it? Bargains to be had everywhere. I was taking a slash down the back of the Sallynoggin Inn the other night and a hardly eaten breadroll popped up out of the bin like a bleedin jack in the box!!!.. I mean, it was Cuisine the bollixin France for Jaysus sake!! I milled it down and finished me whizz and headed back under the bridge to the lads. "The Queen of Engalnd” they all called me when I was telling them of the feast, and I’ll be honest, a broken bottle appeared.. scars make the man me aul one used to say after one of her fistfights outside the dole office, and god bless her, the fuckin roll was delish!!

Me and the drummer robbed a dog for the laugh the other night.

What’s the story with the country right now?? I was on my way back from the scratcher the other day when I bumped into Brush Sheils... selling blow jobs for a tenner and an auld jig for an extra fiver.. It was only after I paid him that I realised that people are really desperate for munso at the mo.. But come on government yokes!! Pull the bleedin finger out. My Niece just had a babby, and for fooks sake she can barely afford to feed the thing (although her communion is coming up, so that should bring in a few bob).

Right lads!! been brillo chatting to you all and remember, be safe and be seen (wear a luminous condom!! ha ha)

Respect,

Christy.


Oh, by the way anyone wanna buy a dog?