Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Happy birthday Davros...

Sterlingfields hits 26 today. Quite the feat for a man with Guinness where the blood should be. Am I wrong? Hardly.

He's taking the Radge approach and celebrating it maxfully. Friday was the big one, as we MacTurcailled it to the nines. Actually, can't say 'we' exactly as I took it reasonably handy, skulking back to Foxborough shortly after midnight with scarcely four pints to my name.

Still, the headlines the next day of 'Dave's party enjoyed by ALL' hardly tell a lie. He's hitting the Palace later, bless him, but I miss out due to a dinger of an illness that sees me confined to home. Ah well. These are the breaks. I'm in high spirits despite the fact that the physical act of eating food is beyond me currently.

And what else? That was a gas weekend just gone, so it was. Saturday took myself and Ollie and Julianne and Colleen and Shane and Regina to The Chameleon in Temple Bar. The headlines of 'Meal enjoyed by all' hardly tell a lie. It's a becushioned bazaar of a brilliant eaterie, and the food!! A stellar performance.

Afterwards we ventured to Richard Roche in Thomas Reads, and the headlines of... OK, you get the picture. Enjoyable fare.

Now you would have thought that Sunday would have been some serious min, what with the high booze intake of the previous two nights. Not at all.

Says I to 5X leaving work "you walking towards town or going home."

Says he back "nah, I'm off to the Long Stone with you and Roche."

"Oh right," says I, and seven pints later (watched the end of the snooker in Doyles with Skehan and Noel) I hit the leaba.

FINALLY managed to head home last night gargle-less, in the bed and everything by ten bells, looking forward to what Tuesday may bring when BAM!! - a bastard in the throat and stomach. I initially figured it was strep, but I don't have the exact symptoms. Either way, I'm disease ridden as I type, hoping and praying it'll be short lived.

What else? Pissed off that United beat us, but what you gonna do? We were probably due some ill will from the Gods after months of supremacy.

Heading to Limerick tomorrow, gonna take her handy for the foreseeable while I return to rude health. There's only so much revelry one Radge can take.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Don't fuck with the classics

Sometimes it's better just to say no to the freebies. In my line of work I'm required to go to a number of film screenings. It's no bad thing, in fact it's a very good thing. Except when it's a bad thing. Like 'Rumour Has It'.

This was billed as an update of the true story that led to the making of the film 'The Graduate'. If you haven't seen it, 'The Graduate' is one of the great films, Dustin Hoffman's finest moment and doesn't Katharine Ross look purty? Anyway, 'Rumour Has It'.

Jennifer Aniston reckons her granny's the real Mrs Robinson, and that her late mother was the Katharine Ross figure. She tracks down Kevin Costner's Beau Burroughs (Dustin Hoffman's Ben Braddock) to see if he's really her da or something, and then they sleep together.

These not-so-subtle nods towards incest notwithstanding (it later transpires that he's not her aul fella - so that's OK then!), this truly is a horrible little film. Julie thought I was asleep half way through, but the truth of it is that the film was so bad I was wide awake and transfixed. Mark Ruffalo should know better.

Much more to my taste is 'Munich', my happy side of the media screenings coin. It's a little gratuitous at times, but it's still a fine document of something I knew very little about - the massacre of 11 Israelis at the 1972 Munich Olympics by a group of Palestinians from the militant Black September group - so is well worth catching. Spielberg should have ended it sooner, but that's a minor quibble.

So here I am anyway, at the tail end of my two days off for the week and feeling the better for it. Bit of raucousness to come this weekend. Tomorrow sees me hook up with Gill and Una, not before time, while Friday takes me to MacTurcaills for Davros' birthday. Expect nudity, excitement and not a little lager beer.

Then Saturday is an Ethiopian banquet. I think. Can Julie confirm this? Ethiopian banquet. There's a paradox in there somewhere. I think it's Ethiopian anyway. Whatever happened to bacon and cabbage?

Meh. Never liked bacon much anyway. Too salty. Bring on the banquet.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

The romantic wilderness.

Sent the following electronic correspondance to Denise Farrell, confidante and sympathetic soul. Before you start feeling too much shame for my plight, let me say that my tongue is firmly planted in cheek. Without any further ado...

And there was me thinking it was love. True love. Like in the films. Starring Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan. Wait. You hate Billy Crystal. I'm a mess. A romantically befuddled and bebothered mess of a man. What is to become of me, Denise?

Who will wail at my funeral? Who will bathe me when I'm old and I'm frail? Who will listen to my anecdotes and laugh, even though I've told them countless times before? Who will give out to me when I come home drunk?

Nobody. Nobody will. I'm going to be the crazy cat man. I don't even like cats that much, but I'll have to learn. I'll shout at children to stop playing football outside my front door, with no sweet lady love to tell me to leave those nice kiddies alone.

"They're only playin'".

Saturday, January 07, 2006


Not ONE number.


More fuckin opera music.


D'ya know what's a horrible little film? Match Point is a horrible little film. Full of quiet malevolence, each character more unlovable than the next.

Myself and Julianne and Ollie went as part of a pub diversion ploy on Friday night (after we'd had a couple of pints, of course). Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Emily Mortimer, Scarlett Johansson - we figured we couldn't go wrong. What awaited was a cynical little bastard of a movie, two hours of dignity shredding odiousness capped by Meyers' blank and brooding West Brit.

As I explained to 5X earlier on, I couldn't feel one shred of empathy for any of the protagonists, while Woody Allen's dialogue was so stilted it could have headbutted Peter Crouch.

While myself and Julie saw it for the cynical monster that it was, Ollie quite enjoyed it. Clearly lacking in moral fibre, that boy.

Moving on...

Wasn't the Liverpool match a dinger? Just coming down from it now. 5-3 against Luton Town in the Cup. Quite the achievement. This time last year we would have taken a hammering. Progress indeed.

And then...

There was me. Quite a sober one is this January. I'm trading in big ideas as opposed to drunken befuddlement lately so I don't want to fall through the cellar door that leads to inebriation. Just not having it for the sake of my soul.

Thoughts turn to down the line, where will I be in a week's time, a month's time, a year's time? In recent months I've been all for the here and now. Perhaps time for something new? I'll let that one fester awhile.

There's no hurry.

On a lighter note, my mam rings me earlier and tells me to do the Lotto. She dreamt last night that I won 400,000 notes. She told me to pick 1, 7 and 9 but couldn't recall the last three numbers. Anyway, I did it, and I'm waiting for the numbers to appear online.

Couple of grand would even be nice.

I'll tell you all one thing though, if I won the jackpot....

....I'd tell not one of you! OK, maybe one or two. Ah fuck it, we'd be off to the Bahamas. All of us. Renew those passports!

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Dave makes the headlines.

Dubliner Dave Maher is joining the Celebrity Big Brother house, it has been confirmed.
Dave, inventor of the inverted pint glass, has amassed huge publicity both in Ireland and the UK recently, thanks to his insatiable addiction to Cadbury’s Creme Eggs.
The Raheny native is said to hibernate for the eight months immediately following Easter in an isolation chamber. He has admitted before that his private stash of Creme Eggs normally runs out around November.
“My private stash of Creme Eggs normally runs out around November,” he confirmed.
‘Dave’s Inverted Pint Glass,’ the idea of which came to Mr Maher during one of periods of long isolation, gives consumers the ability to drink from both ends of the vessel. How Maher came up with this is still subject to scrutiny, as it goes against all laws of gravity and physics.
Maher is expected to provide the freak show element of the popular, annual Channel 4 show, what with his exceptionally large middle finger.
Other celebrities mooted to appear include Queen Elizabeth, Rod Stewart and Lecy Goranson, who played Becky in Roseanne before the role was given to yer woman from Scrubs.