It’s ugly.
It’s messy.
It’s irreversible.
It’s happening now!
Monthly Archives: February 2016
I’d be willing to bet that there is an allegory somewhere in there, compliments of the Council Litter Management Services, but I’ll be damned if I can find it.
Actually, I’ll be damned for picturing the promulgator of the Evangelium Vitae encyclical letter in a less than flattering light…
Signs of the times
Me! Me! Me!
No, me! Me! Me! Vote for me! No me! Me!
Ok, elections 2016, quick recap.
Maria:
Maria: I just need to double-check one thing, the make-up artist fee, for the photo shoot, it’s a flat rate, isn’t it?
Photographer: That’s right Maria, it’s not based on quantity, it’s a flat rate
Maria: LASH IT ON GIRL! The what? The cracks? When I smile? No worries. Get ready, I’m going to hold it there. Get your trowel. No. 4. Get ready to fill the cracks. I think we all agreed on the Mandarin Marvel plaster
Carrie:
Photographer: A symphony Carrie, let’s go for a symphony. In white and red. Like a vanilla ice cream with a cherry coulis.
Carrie: Are… are… you sure?
Photographer: Are you kidding?! The electorate will lap it up. A vanilla/cherry symphonic ice cream.
Shane:
Photographer: Shirt and tie? So what’s the occasion Shane? Marriage, confirmation or court appearance?
Shane: Stop taking the piss, will ya. It’s for the electoral posters. I don’t look like a gurrier in a suit trying to buy instant respectability, do I?
Photographer: Not at all Shane. You don’t look like a gurrier. You look like a trainee investment banker. Or an insurance broker.
Shane: And the difference is? Oh shite…
Mary:
In spite of the disappointment of failing the Aer Lingus Air Hostess exam back in 1982, Mary always knew that she would find another use for the outfit at some stage.
Frank:
Photographer: Smile Frank, give me your best winner’s smile. Ooze confidence, for fuck sake.
Frank: I just can’t do it, Joe. I know we don’t stand a shaggin’ chance. Can we settle for the half-arsed grin and I can go back to bed?
Joan:
Photographer: So Joan, have you thought about how you want to approach this election? What image do you want to project? Bright, confident smile? Or serious, “I’m not in politics for the craic” straight face?
Joan: Well, Brendan, I thought that this time, I’d go for the Grimace.
Brendan: The Grimace?
Joan: Yes, the Grimace. The rictus is so last decade. I want the Grimace. Show teeth, but without smiling, and hemorrhoidal pain etched on my face.
Enda:
Ok, guys, take him out of the sarcophagus. Slowly. Slowly. Very slowly. He may be wooden, he is delicate nonetheless. Very delicate. Ok, apply a bit more Death Warmed Up make-up. Gentle strokes, with the soft brush.
The other yoke whose name I have forgotten
The Yoke: How much to make me look like an energetic, smiley, approachable, cat-who-got-the-cream, born leader, at the elm of an Ireland for All?
The photographer: 2.3 million. We’ll shoot it in the studio, and outside, before and after sessions on the sun bed, with and without make-up, with a dark suit, and a light coloured suit, with and without tie, we’ll take 27,000 shots, over 7 months, in the hope of bagging one where you look like a half-palatable individual.
Richard:
In natural light, without a screed of make-up. No trace of chemical enhancement in the hair. Quite sure of who he is, and what he is about. No toothy grin. A guy. Just a guy. With his feet on the ground.
Ah bollix, I’m just beginning to wonder if I am not just a touch biased here.
It’s a good thing I don’t give a rat’s arse about politics…
Voting ethics
One’s appearance should not be a significant role in attracting votes (or not).
Rather, one’s ability to stick to one’s principles should be the determining factor.
Jayzis… Poor aul Joan Brutal. It’s one uphill battle she’s picked for herself there…
But also volatile and potentially lethal.
Vegetarianism is now officially dangerous.
Organic and Irish
Vodafone are planning to install a powerful 4G telephone mast 100 meters away from my kids’ school.
Because it is important to stream Youtube videos of funny puppies on the go.
They say there is no proof it is harmful.
I say they cannot prove it is not.
Ah well, it’s only my kids as guinea pigs to find out who’s right…
They wouldn’t recognise the precautionary principle if it bit them in the arse.
#StopVodafoneMast
I see dead people!
It’s not just you Luca, Mimi and Finn.
We all see them. We are after all in a crypt.
Following a hot tip from the Clothesline , we decided to go St Michan’s. Again.
The last time we arrived too late and had to entertain the kids with the North Inner City Junkie Walk, with other mummies, but the walking type (barely), and wrapped in 100% polyester Adidas bandages.
This time I researched the opening times a bit better, and after a short wait in the world’s coldest church, where along with about 10 other people we pretended to have a faint interest in the stain glass when all we really wanted to see was… THE CRYPT WITH THE MUMMIES, we were taken to the entrance to the underworld by our highly entertaining and very theatrical Cerberus.
The kids loved it.
Well… Most of the kids.
The atmosphere of the crypts was a just a little too much for Finn. Poor little guy. We are bad parents. Bad, bad parents.
But then again, I was taken to the ossuary in Douaumont when I was about the same age, and see what balanced, well-rounded individual I became…
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Forget about Little House on the Prairie. Welcome to Little Council House in the Cemetery.
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Working the graveyard shift in the office
After a grueling climb, Larry could savour the view from the top.
He was finally here, he had made, he had conquered the mountain.
The summit was his to enjoy.
And then he saw us.
In and around Dublin 
