Saturday, December 31, 2005

Me Vs 5X

Having informed 5X of my new obsession, he decided to take the wind out of my sails thus...

"The brutal facts are :
You possess none of these qualities that this ***** would require -
The fancy apartment.
The high performance car.
The position of power.
The high salary.
The sense of competiveness.
The kids from a previous relationship.
The life seeming to be together.
Athletic history that can be proved with trophys.
Combination skin.
I'm sorry to break it to you."

So I responded with...

"You speak the truth, but I do possess...
One tear stained pillow.
A sizeable gut.
A bleak sense of my own place in this universe, stuck somewhere between Milhouse and Paul Giamatti in his more hopeless and hapless roles.
A Creative Zen Sleek with 18 gig capacity.
Unconventional handwriting.
No ties.
No mortgage.
No babies.
A free travel card.
A notable scar on my skull.
A fine line in self deprecation.
Good teeth.
The ability to banter.
However, none of the above, I have discovered, is attractive to the opposite sex.
I'm a whizz in the pub but."

And he finished with...

"In an act of bastardry and maleness, I've decided to measure myself up against you -
You speak the truth, but I do possess...
Four deeply impacted and experienced pillows. Oh if they could talk, what tales they would tell...
A well defined and tone stomach.
Also, admittedly, a bleak sense of my own place in the universe, stuck somewhere between David Spade and Jason Shwartzman, in his only role.
A laptop filled with wonderful, zesty, original work that won't benefit from my lack of ambition and drive.
Unreadable handwriting.
No ties.
No mortgage.
No babies, I maintain.
No murderous petroleum-based transport . (End petroleum now!)
A interesting mystery scar on my leg.
A Cuddihy.
A rather nice cock, all told.
A taste for the cruder things in life.
Some of these things have helped me to get my end away.
Except for the Cuddihy."

My world, everybody...

Monday, December 26, 2005

Better the Radge you know...

Stephens Day, down in Limerick. Supposed to be Thurles bound, but a whoresome throat infection coupled with Skehan's own ailment has put paid to that.

Anyway, it's time for the Radgery honours list. Don't even think I did one of these last year.

Expect it to be ramshackle.

Departures of the year:
1. Skehan around the world. He managed it in three months. Phileas Fogg did it in 80 days. Skehan drank more though. And caroused by all accounts. Nearly fell in love too, despite my warnings.
2. Me to Heidelberg. Oh sweet divine but that was a hell of a weekend. Myself, Kev and Johnny over to Corporal Kenny. To be repeated in March, all going well.
3. Salif Diao to Portsmouth.
4. The boy Raf to London. No doubt he'll be disappointed to come behind Salif Diao in the departure stakes. He'll have to get over it. Numpty!
5. Julianne to Oz. And New York. And Amsterdam. There's tinker blood in her!

Arrivals of the year:

1. Got to say the year was divided up into pre-Davros and post-Davros. That's right, the boy Maher returned from Australia in June and things have seldom been sober since.
2. The bould Ann and the even boulder Emma Q (as she is in my phone) to the floor that is the third in Broadcasting House. Many, MANY cries of "come on, we'll just go for the ONE!"...
3. Pepe Reina.
4. Fernando Morientes.
5. Bolo Zenden (crocked or not).
6. The animal, as I will no doubt rename him. Figure that one out Cowzer, shouldn't take much.

Disappointments of the year:

1. The Setanta Christmas party. Faultless organisation, but too much politics. I won't elaborate.
2. The last three days of Lanzarote. Beware the Cuddihy clan, or certain members thereof! Nah, great holiday, just people stepping on toes at close quarters. To be expected.
3. The first half in Istanbul, May 25th.
4. The 25A bus stop on Wellington Quay. THAT night. See earlier blog 'The One Where Radge Thought "Fuck It!"...

Nights out of the year:

1. Radge Lash 2005. A good one, and didn't get crap. Long Stone. Shots. Still. Didn't get crap. The right lads.
2. Raf's leaving drinks (nice hat). Long Stone.
3. Dave returns. Eh. Long Stone again.
4. Random visits to Nearys, The Stag's Head, John Mulligan, Doyles, Grogans, Doran's, Kehoe's of course and as ever, Ryans and The Villager. Oh, and how could I forget The Palace Bar.

Sexual exploits of the year:

(The administrator has deemed this content too lewd and/or lascivious to post. Either that, or Radge has had a pretty quiet year in the veni vidi vici stakes and has nothing to say on the subject).

Year highlights:

1. The second half, extra time and penalties, Istanbul's Ataturk Stadium, May 25th.
2. Dave's return from out foreign.
3. Been a great year for meeting new people and befriending same.
4. Getting drunk of an afternoon recently in Nearys and Kehoes. It was a Tuesday, random as you like. Brought me back to myself and kicked off six weeks of revelry (ongoing at time of writing).
5. Seven game winning streak in Premiership, no goals conceded at time of writing. Fingers crossed we'll kill the Toon in, oh, 39 minutes.


1. The whole Manu Chao thing. Palace Bar. Trying to be Jools Holland. Fucked up.
2. Four pints. MacTurcaills. First week of December. There they were, in my hands - gone!
3. The aftermath of Wednesday night just gone. I fucked up again. Not saying how or who with. All's calm again.
4. Sick on Paddy's week.
5. Vodafone shenanigans.

So that's your lot, Happy New Year. Keep your heads about ye. Normal blogging service has been resumed.

He signs off,


Sunday, December 18, 2005

A rod for my back?

It’s growing ever clearer to me that people are bastards. The little things. Just went down to the kitchen in work, and there’s a lad at the sink washing his cup or something. I greet him warmly, “how’s it goin?” - the way you do.

Fucker just scowls at me and looks back to the sink.

Such things bother me. After the vulgarity of the Christmas Party and subsequent fall-out, I’m typing up a code of conduct.

I’m just fucking disgusted by the behaviour of certain people.

Lads, look after the young ones. Don’t go making them cry. In fact, don’t go getting them drunk and then making them cry. If you do that, you are pond life. Make no mistake about it.

Is there no chivalry in the world? Is there no sense of decency? Jesus, is there no respect?

I’d rather see a drunk girl safely home of a night than try to capitalise. Maybe it’s just me, and fuck knows I’ve had the nice guy tag thrown at me forever, but I don’t care. In a selfish way, it’s all about feeling right in my own head.

How lads can brag about picking up this girl or that when she’s totally incapacitated with drink is beyond my ken. Where’s the gratification in that?

Who are you trying to impress?

And don't be a cheat. And don't be a coward. And you know who you are. And you're a fucking disgrace.

There are ways to treat people, and I’m beginning to doubt that anyone else gets it.

Monday, December 12, 2005

December, everybody...

Une Starkos: Pint?
tonycuddihy: You serious?
Une Starkos: Maybe...
tonycuddihy: I'd manage one.
Une Starkos: Dare we?
tonycuddihy: We dare. In Dundrum in the morning but, so definitely just having the two.
Une Starkos: Longstone, Doyles and then on...
Une Starkos: Or maybe a quiet one in Mulligans?
tonycuddihy: Yeah. Into John Mulligan with us. Fuck it.
Une Starkos: Fuck it yeah

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Chickenhead telling a joke, by 5X

...'Ok, I have one!! Ok.. em.. Right. There's this guy who wants to buy, well no, his wife asks him to, anyway, he goes into a it a shop?... no, yeah it is! So in he goes anyway and says to the guy...what is it he says?..Oh yeah, he says..'Do you have..(Other girl interrupts - 'No he doesn't say that yet Suzie!) 'Does he not? Oh yeah you're right! Hang on, actually, Louise tells it better, don't you lou? You tell it. Louise changes the subject -'Is John meeting us here? Did you text him?' The joke is forgotten as the girls pursue that other conversation. The man is left in despair....

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Months of the year.

Jarred January

Fucked February

Mangled March

Arseholed April

Messy May

Jolly June

Jovial July

Alcoholic August

Sloshed September

Oiled-up October

Nasty November

Drunken December

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Salute to Harold Pinter



I'm back with you. Just been on Cowzer's blog and he says he's quitting international blogging to concentrate on his club career. Of course, I can't accept a retirement. There's too much juice in the man's blogging loins for that. Denied.

As for 5X, well over a month since HIS last entry. The world at large, I feel, needs to know more about his latest tussles with the tiger, the yoga mat and that mysterious orange liquid he's resorted to after just two pints. That's right people. 5X is hitting the Tropicana heavy, and is looking all the healthier of hue for it.

What else? Had my first pints in the Bachelor Inn the other night. It reminded me of Clarkes in Glasnevin when it was still Clarkes. The lads from home will recall. Used to serve 14-year-olds did old Jim Clarke, until he was bought out and they got the late license and a classier class of clientele. Had to go to Fibbers for my libations then.

Ah Fibbers. It was the era of Soundgarden and Superunknown and what not. Ah Fibbers. And McGraths. And Quinns in Drumcondra. All housed me in my youth.

But enough of that. Was in the Bachelor with the aul lad and his mates Dave and Harry and Barry and Des and Vinny. Skehan was with me. The older gents waxed on about old haunts like Bartley Dunne's and Rice's and God knows where. Fascinating to listen to. Got the impression that my Da's mates had some right rum tales about the man, but they weren't for my ears.

Anyway, they all went off to get fed and myself and Skehan went to the Palace. Couple of jars there and it was back to mine with Johnny and more ale. Then myself and Skehan toiled away in Neary's and Kehoe's all day Tuesday, just like the old college days - especially when his ex Vanessa showed up. Left them to it around six and came back out home to watch the fitba.

Today's been all about nothing. Sitting on my arse watching Primary Colors on DVD and crap TV subsequently. In a short while we have United and Benfica. Could be a cracker.

Anyway, that's enough from me. Feel like I've rambled on long enough. Next week a Christmas Party in Galway and genuine rambunctiousness.

More of which anon.