The Quiet Man

A few people have remarked that my blog is very quiet of late.

They're right, it fucking is.

TV3 is GAA

I'm sure the many fans of the GAA are rejoicing today with the news that TV3 (The Camden Casket of Broadcasting), have snapped up the rights to 40 important football and championship games next season. After the job they did with the Rugby World Cup (where it looked like it was broadcast from a listing boat), the notoriously no-frills GAA community will be more than satisfied to watch games that will most likely be filmed on CCTV cameras and will feature instant replays that will be painted like those old 'courtroom' images from the news. The red lemonade and hang sandwich brigade don't want flashy graphics and expert punditry. A priest with a score card and the manager of the St Honnucas under 15's will do. Echoing the GAA mantra of take your points and the goals will come, the studio will actually be 2 chairs and a table in the carpark in the hope that four walls and a roof are built around them.

But the coverage doesn't stop there. Once monthly, TV3 will broadcast 'You make me want to HURL' which will follow a group of Nun's from the west who enter a team in the national hurling championships and the many adventures they get up to along the way and 'Celebrity Sandwich Filling' which has nothing to do with the GAA whatsoever

To launch the new deal with the GEE EH EH?, members of the hit drama 'Heartbeat' and the gay guy who presents the weather on morning AM took part in a 'volleying' competition on the Naas Dual Carriageway.

For the record it was Heartbeat 17 - Weather Gay 12.

Disgrace!!

What a load of my Cock(ney)

So, the shiny faced Cockney ex-manager pundit that is Terry Venables looks a shoo-in for the vacant Ireland soccer managers job. Here's a copy of his application letter that I scanned when I broke into the FAI last night to shit in John Delaneys drawers...


"Dear Diamond Geezers at the EFF AAA I!!!,

Top of the bleedin Days Dawning to you!!

Har Har Har.. What about that then? The Oirish. Church Bell, what can I say about the Paddies, the old Tea Caddies?? Har Har Har.. I wish to apply for the job of Manager of the Repub-a-lick of Iland. I've been the Gaffer of loads of teams like Barcelona and Tottingham Hotspurs. You little beauty!!!

I have a severe all over Peter Pan, and although some may say it's orange, I hope that won't be a fraser crane in the Kybher Pass.. Har Har Har. Me auld mucker, Randy Andy Townsend will be at me Princess Bride all the lemon and Lime and he'll be showing me all the rub-a-dub-dub's over there in Dublin and the best places to go on the old Matt Le Tiss and to get a nice Ruby Murray. I'll need a one bed flat cos I've just divorced the old trouble and strife by the way.. Har Har Har

Here, 'Av a picture of me farting into a pint of bitter at the Groucho and if you need a reference, Tommy down the Pig and Whistle will do you up one on the back of a beermat.

Don't be a Queens Park Ranger, and get back to me, me old garden gates..

Shaba Ranks,

El Tel"

Hey, Hey we're the HSE!!

I was asked to script an advert for the much maligned HSE recently, in a bit to deflect the negative attention they are getting for being a complete shower of idiots. I was asked also to cast Mary Harney as an all-in-one hero sort, and if necessary, provide her with the body of a human being. It was a tough gig but here's the finished article:

Opens in a grey, gothic turreted hospital. Shadows of roaming wolves disappear behind buildings as we enter the main reception

Doctor: 'I'm sorry, but your Husband is dead'. Cut to scene of devastated wife

Doctor: 'I'm afraid we will have to amputate'. Cut to scene of agonised patient. Revs of chainsaw fade out

Doctor: 'I'm terribly sorry, but you're blind'. Cut to scene of Patient reading newspaper. 'What?' replies Patient, looking confused..

Voiceover: "There comes a time, when even the richest countries in western Europe need more than a properly run, secure and reliable health service"..

Cuts to scene of hospital door swinging open in a shiny and elegant looking hospital

Voiceover: "sometimes, what they need is a hero"

Cuts to sexy nurses looking on in awe. A Patient in a coma wakes and sits up in amazement. The camera pans across this hero's broad chest. to a name tag. 'Mary Harney' (Played by Morgan Freeman). She grabs a clip board with supreme confidence and re-visits the same patients as above

Harney: 'Your husband isn't dead, we'll have him exhumed at once'. Cut to scene of confused wife

Harney: 'Great news Hop-a-long, there was nothing wrong with your leg. We didn't need to amputate!!'. Cut to scene of guy in a wheelchair

Harney: 'You won't be needing this' as she grabs cane from patient. 'Or this!' as she shoots guide dog in the face...

Closing shot of Harney riding a white horse out of the hospital gates

"The HSE - Not all mistakes need to be bad ones"

Budgie's in Trouble

U2's 'Red Hill Mining Town' was an unreleased single from the Joshua Tree, and has now been included for the first time on their new DVD. Here's the Neil Jordan directed video, which looks like it was shot in the engine room of the George. The money shot is most certainly Claytons 'budgie release', which should feature at the next Gay Oscars. Mullens 'saucy' hammering cannot be overlooked either.




*I am aware that the George is unlikely to have an engine room

Babe (babe) I'm back again

Dear Public,

In the last few months, the artist formerly known as National Disgrace, and still known as National Disgrace (except to Mama Disgrace, who she knows simply as a 'fucking disgrace') has been doing the emotional boogie. His heart has been low, as his his pants. There have been tears, but then again, there has been laughs (a bit like being savagely beaten by a clown). Old friends have come and gone, and two very little cats have been re-homed. Disgrace Manor too, has been deserted and currently lays as an empty monument to heroism. It's curtains no longer shield the luxurious goings on of a man at the peak of his powers, but instead, empty halls that are haunted by the ghosts of many of our finest.

And Aldi have noticed a sharp decline in sales of it's cheapest wines

Until now.......

Rollerskate Skinny - Speed to my Side

The greatest Irish single of all time?

Reality Check

Life isn't all about ridiculous flathunting stories and Bertie Ahern in lingerie you know...

Flat Hunting

So, Disgrace is already regretting his decision to stick around this one horse town. I've been flat hunting you see. If you ever wanted a reason to do a 'Bertie' (kill yourself) then I urge you to join me as I take a tour of the seediest places in existence. Last night I went to see an 'apartment' that was advertised as 'stunning'. Obviously they mean stunning in the same way that being ejected out the windscreen of a moving car is stunning. 'All Mod Cons' was bandied about, but unless a dangerously wired 3 ring heater is considered the must have accessory of the noughties, then I didn't see much to get me excited. And you'd be more correct in saying that the dirt had windows attached to them than you would by saying the windows were dirty. Still, as anyone who knew me circa 1996 will know, I'm not fussy. I can handle a little bit of 'slumming' it as long as the people I'm with are worth the effort. The guy who was showing me the flat looking like a rapist Wurrzel Gummidge and I figured the term 'power shower' was as alien to him as a girlfriend. Still, he showed me around and was courteous. I enquired about Broadband and got shown a television in the corner. The tour didn't last long as the flat could be viewed in one 360 degree movement and soon I was sitting on the sofa answering personal questions about myself.

'Do you have a girlfriend' he asked. I noted at this stage that his left hand had been out of view for quite a long time. His demeanour startled me as he shuffled in a mixture of nervousness and personal ecstasy.. 'Or pets', he went on, his voice beginning to quiver a little. I left.

So, what's going on? So far this week I've seen places that look like Paedophiles lairs, Snuff movie sets, and Bela's gaff from Fair City, yet none of them, nor the beings that stalk their corridors, should be allowed exist.

Oh, and he offered the flat to someone else

Floating with Jape

After being out for around 15 years, Floating by Jape finally get's the full release treatment, on the Jape is Grape EP.. I got my hands on a 3 track promo of this and it's top stuff again. The video is below, and nearly 300,000 plays on youtube can't be bad..

Oh, and I have the exact same hat as the one on 17 secs....

How many HSE workers does it take to change a lightbulb?

I suppose, if you've spent 7 years at lightbulb changing college, you'd be a little upset that 'anyone' could come in and do your job for you. I mean, I would be a little miffed if I arrived into work tomorrow and found someone pressing the buttons on this black thing on my desk and walking around the office with blank pages of paper in their hands and drinking coffee and nodding intently, so I can understand what the professional light bulb replacement engineers are thinking.

Still, they can always reciprocate and offer their services to the Health Service Executive in exchange. Sample headline "Heart Shock! - Electrician ruins cardiac op, kills 26 in process"

See if they like it then

*Credit to Mrs Cunningham for the scoop

Goldfinger, Bloc Party, Flux.

..from the Peter Serafinowicz show



..and the divisive new Bloc Party video. Amazing

Bibi Baskin

A few posts back, Disgrace shocked the Nation by declaring his intent to assume exile status and leave behind the country of his great emergence. There was poetry in the air that day, and perhaps a little too much cognac.

Now, barely weeks later, old N Dissy, has been persuaded to stay. Following an emotional number of weeks where Mac Disgracey faced off with 3 of the 10 most stressful things in life, the decision to keep the N boy and his valuable sperm in Ireland is sure to delight the masses.

So, rather than feeling the sand of freedom caress his toes, Disgrace will now be seen queuing for the 15B. Instead of sharing linguistics with the ancient Aztecs, he will be watching Fair City. Instead of dancing with passion to a street tango under an Argentinean moon, he will be raped and burgled..

Viva Irlanda

Monday Mournings

I came within a whisker of unleashing a cup of coffee into a colleagues face there. They were smiling. On a Monday. They were talking about Soccer or Profit/loss elasticity or something completely annoying and I just stood there, quivering with violent calm. It was probably just that I really wanted the coffee and that scalding would not be conducive to a career masterplan but I swear to god, it was nearly burn baby burn. Anyway, so I even went into the toilet to check my appearance in case I did anything that would end up on Sky News. My fellow workers will be glad to know that I'm not happy with my hair.

Perhaps it might be an idea not to watch 'Office Space' every Sunday night

I actually googled Bagpipes there to see how difficult they would be to buy. I just fancy arriving into work tomorrow and playing them at my desk.

Gonna write a classic

So, Myself and Fakey have decided to write a Sitcom. As of yet, the details are still being ironed out, but we have agreed that an element of 'humour' is important, if not crucial. 'Make it funny' Fakey said, 'and work backwards'..

Fakey likes to work backwards (No, not in that way!) and who am I to argue? I have first hand experience of working with Fakester so I know what to expect. A strong work ethic with a dash of 'looking at lesbians on the internet'. There'll be espressos, double espressos and double espressos with beer in them. There'll be inspirational board meetings and lavish orgies of ideas interspersed with nights in custody and hospitalisation. Working with Fake Daddy is like riding a bike without a saddle.. Yep, that's right, hugely enjoyable..

We've already started. In fact, all those years ago when a homemade Ireland flag we made nearly caused a Dublin Bus to crash, we vowed to get on the payroll with each other. There have been moments since, such as our glorious Petrol Station days, but only now are we taking it seriously.

Fakey is hell-bent on the series revolving around two polar opposites, living against the backdrop of a dying Celtic Tiger. I kinda prefer two Polar Bears living with a Celtic loving Tiger but we'll reach a compromise. We have some ideas, some good, all bad.

Vince and Onions - Vince is a 32 year old over achiever. He likes the fine things in life and Onions, a 35 year old slacker, with a secluded rural background, living in the big 'smoke' for the first time ever... Episode one - Onions goes on a date with his cousin and Vince is heavily taxed on imported wine

Bronx-itis - Comedy set in the US starring Charlie Sheen as a washed up baseball player. In the first episode his Mother comes to visit and gets electrocuted whilst his love life goes from bad to worse when Sheila admits to having a 'fling' with his dog, snappy

Maxi Priest - Father Ted rip off featuring a taxi driving father who delivers his sermons to his captive audience. Every episode ends in a tragic traffic accident, with the priest delivering the last rites, usually, and hilariously, whilst he asks for the fare..

Here we come Stardom!!

'Dead' míle fáilte

So, Ireland is 'The Friendliest country in the world' according to Lonely planet..

Ok, I've just checked my dictionary and there is no mention of friendliness involving a fire extinguisher in the face. Even Foreign students being strangled? The dictionary doesn't refer to this as being a one of our hundreds of thousands of welcomes. Baffling. And what about our daily murders and shootings? Not there I'm afraid, maybe that'll be in the next edition..

And what about the gang of Americans I met on Saturday night who witnessed, not one, not two, BUT FIVE, fist fights break out at the corner of Auinger St and Stephens St. Do you think they ran away because they felt welcomed? Are they writing postcards right now to their parents

'Dear Mom and Dad, I think I'm going to stay here for good. I saw a guy use a chainsaw on a postman earlier. It was so exciting. And I was in a big supermarket and an old woman, with lots of gold jewellery (she must be rich!!) punched her 5 year old child in the face for crying because it was cold and she'd just sold his jacket for heroin. The Irish are so nice. Oh, as I write this I'm being raped. Wish you were here, Stacey'

Still, the guy who drove by me at great speed, hanging out of the window of his luminous car on Wexford st the other night and told me he would 'set fire to my oul one' was being friendly. Wasn't he?

Just call me 'el Disgracó'

So ND is thinking of leaving the country. It's not personal but I just gotta go. Like James Joyce, the Duke of Wellington and Barry McGuigan, I think my cause will be better served if I took it to the globe. I hope you understand.

I'll do up a knapsack, pop it on a stick and take to the highway. It'll be feverishly romantic. My clothes will have the distressed look of a drifter, with a dash of hero. Strangers, will be high fiving me from passing trucks. I'll beat the dusty paths and cross the locomotive trail to the strains of Crosby, Stills and Nash. Dogs and goats will gallop along side me as I gather pace through the council estates, and will sleep beneath the stars with me, gently unrolling their tongues on my sweaty brow. I may or may not hire a Peruvian boy to carry my laptop and CD's. The days will become weeks and the weeks will become, strangely, days. I will know the stars by name, and each night I will serenade a different one. Wolves, will be repelled with ease and would be rapists will be invited to discuss their problems. Ticker tape will greet me in each town, the mothers will send their young with baskets of fresh bread. There'll be many a frothy one waiting for me in the bars. Local broadsheets will refer to me as the 'Mr Drift' and will count down my arrival. Flags will half-mast as I leave, the name 'Disgrace' will be a popular one for newly born kids for many a year to come.

Either that or I could fly Ryanair

Beirut - Nantes

So myself and Fakey have fallen out over these guys. I didn't rate them you see, and we engaged in a little bit of fist fighting over this. It's pretty much how we do things. However, I was alerted to their appearance on Blogotheque and I must admit to being mildly seduced by their charms. I love the industrial apartment complex as it reminds me of the place I lived in when I 'studied' in Dundalk (as it happened, it was a recently bombed hotel, but the rent was cheap and the corpses made great eating) and the tune itself is a raggle taggle folk drifter that makes you wanna go straight up to the attic and grab that banjo.

Of course this doesn't mean that Fakey was right... but it was worth the argument, if you get my drift?

BEIRUT - Nantes - from The Flying Club Cup
Uploaded by flyingclubcup

Horses

So, Disgrace is back. I'm saving most of the details for the book, but let's just say that being tied to a radiator and forced to tongue kiss a man dressed as Brian Keenan sounds like Funderland compared to what I've been through. Still, we learn and we live, and as long as the radiator has an eco friendly setting, we should all be ok

Anyway, horses. I was on my way to work this morning and a kid raced by on the back of one. At 8.30 am. On the Rathmines rd.

I note that top Jockey Kieran Fallon has been found guilty of fixing races. I also note that Kuerten's horse's B sample has been found guilty. Is this meandering nations love affair with horses over? I mean, other than having them in for dinner like they do in parts of Clondalkin, haven't we been guilty of mistreating them for too long?

Still, it is nice to see them in positions of power

Later

DCB