24 February 2011

The Devil and Anthony Hopkins…and a horse called Paul

So we went to our first movie premiere on Sunday. A real showbiz affair. Lorraine Keane, Brian O Discoll, loads of people from Drogheda and us, Fight Like Apes. Jolly green giant I was excited.

The movie in question was “The Rite” a real think piece directed by illuminary filmmaker Michael Hafstrom, the mastermind behind 2004’s “Drowning Ghost” and 2005’s “Derailed”, the latter possibly being a metaphor for his floundering film career.

In one blistering scene of cinematic glory Anto Hopkins, who towards the end of the movie has decided to hedge his bets and transform into Hannibal Lector, is being questioned by some actor from Drogheda.


[reinactment]

“Speak Demon speak” says the young man from Drogheda.

“No” replies Hannibal Lector.

(Anto has at this point become the devil for some unbeknownst reason that I cannot for the life of me understand).

“Tell me your name Anthony Hopkins” says the young man from Drogheda.

“I will not tell you my name Clarice!” says Anthony Hopkins to the young man from Drogheda.

“Pleeeeeease” the young man from Drogheda pleads. “I am a very believable priest, now tell me your name”


With that Anto Hopkins lets out a scream. The word is familiar but for some reason malicious. What a scream I’m thinking, the raw emotion, the power, the vulnerability, the complexity of character. At this point I’m in love with this movie, I’m sharpening my pencil, getting ready to mark it down as a classic, practicing how to draw stars so I can give it five in a row. Anthony Hopkins is a revelation, a genius, a thespian, a master of his craft, a legend, a…..


That is until our drummer Lee Boylan turns to me and says “ Here man, I never knew the devils name was Paul.”

There was also a scene involving the Devil being a horse for some reason.


After the movie we went to the after party. There was free gargle and the young movie star from Drogheda was playing with his band.

Have you ever heard Maniac 2000 being blended into Billie Jean so seamlessly it seems like the same song?” I have. If Hollywood doesn’t accept Colin O’ Donaghue, on the basis of his sheer acting ability then that little trick might just seal the deal for him.

I bet Colin Farrell is shitting himself


16 November 2010
Hi again! This week I have asked young Pockets to come up with some questions that he’s been dying to ask myself & the world since he was a small lad.

What are you gonna call your first child? And will you disappointed if it’s not good looking?
Very disappointed. I have looked into the process of ‘putting it back’ should I be disappointed enough with its appearance. I saw a child just the other day who was the spitting image of Phil Mitchell. Back it would go. Devastating.

I will call my first born Streptomycin.

What happens if you cross Nigel Mansel with an octopus? And more importantly, why don’t people talk about Nigel Mansel anymore?
Well I haven’t noticed a lull in Nigel Mansel based conversation. This could be largely due to the fact that a day has not gone by in the last 3 years where you haven’t manage to fit him in, in the most tenuous ways to almost every conversation.

If you crossed him with an octopus the octopus would be in some real big trouble.

Are you afraid of people with low arched feet?
Afraid is the wrong word. Wary would be the one I’d go for. Can you imagine your entire foot being almost entirely in contact with the surface you are walking on?? Not to mention the financial responsibility of those insoles you have to buy. You’d be driven mad.

If you could be a horse who would you kick in the head?
Florence Squelch.

Whats the story with the fact that skeletor from He-Man actually had a friend called fuckface and why were we allowed to watch it as children?
Wasn’t there a King Randy in that as well?! She-ra was so hot.

Did you know that Mathew Perry is missing part of one his middle fingers?
I did know that. It was due to an unfortunate door-shutting accident in nursery school. That’s so sad.

Does Anthony Head(Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer) actually have a gammy hand?
I have been part of many a debate around this particular topic. In an effort to prove he does not, I have watched a few fight scenes from Buffy involving Mr Giles in slow motion to see if I could spot any problems. There were none. If anyone reading this finds evidence to the contrary please let us know. Seriously.

What’s my obsession with gammy hands and or bones related to a hand?
Well you have got kind of small, stubby hands. Some might call this a bad thing. I would see the positive side of it. You are at all times further away from danger because your fingers aren’t as long as most peoples. Maybe this has led to an interest in those less fortunate then you?!

Did you know that Thora Birch's (American Beauty, Ghostworld) Ma was in the porno Deep throat?
Did YOU know that her Da was also in it?!
(Here, how do you wipe search history?? ‘Thora Birch + deep throat’ is not something I want permanently on my computer history.)

What’s your favourite joke?
Two fish in a tank. One says to the other ‘have you ever driven one of these before?’ Lol.

If you put cheese in a kebab is it still a kebab? How necessary is the salad?
I don’t see why the inclusion of cheese would negate the qualification of a kebab whatsoever. And personally, I feel the salad is absolutely essential. Well just the lettuce. I couldn’t do without the crunch.

If you were called something unfortunate like Bolloxmonkey would you sue your parents or simply change your name?
Both.

Do you think its fair that there is now an organisation that can veto a child’s name if they deem it inappropriate?
Yes, I do.

If I call my son Doctor as his Christian name do I still have to send him to school or can he skip all that malarky and just start pulling in the notes?
Hm. That’s an interesting one. I think either way you’ll be giving him an advantage in life from the word go.

To Catch a Predetor or Cheaters?

I don’t understand the question. You spelled ‘predator’ wrong.

Warrior out.
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8 November 2010

We have an arch enemy in london,

His name is Joe Finchley.

He is the tube stop attendant at our local station. Lee and I have been swindling the tubes since a few days after we arrived. One of us tops up our oyster and we both bail through at the same time. We have it down to a fine art. A slight pause from the person in front (we rotate turns), an empty oyster card holder on the the sensor from the person at the back and Bob's your aunt's husband, we're through...half price.

Unfortunately Fincho is onto us. He spotted our little scheme about two weeks back and has been hot on our tail since. It's as if his life has been leading up to this moment. Watching the Prim and Propers pay their way, maybe lifting the odd pram or paying special attention to the odd wheelchair has left him unfulfilled. I believe he genuinely thanks god for the day that us two scallywags slipped up and gave our game away.

Since that fateful morning, like all true arch nemesis' he has built up a rapport with us...

Last week, as we pretended to pay for both of our oysters in the machine he appeared behind us like the candyman.

"Public transport is expensive, isn't it guys?"

Our poor Irish hearts sank. We had to pay. He was watching us.

"Bet you wish you had one of these", says the smart fucker and produces this supercharged oyster card made out of titanium or some shit. Some total beast of a yoke.

"You wouldn't be fumbling for change then!" and then proceeds to burst his hole laughing and slinks off back to the Jobsworth Factory from whence he came.

There have been many incidents like the above. All as terror inflicting. We dread returning to the tube station at night. The idea of Finchley doing the night shift sends shivers up our collective bum. Everything's scarier in the dark. Especially a five foot asian man with jam jar glasses, a squeaky voice and a hi-vis vest.

I heard if you say Joe Finchley five times in the mirror he'll appear behind you with a supercharged oyster card in one hand and his cock in the other.

Pockets

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1 November 2010

Following on from Pocket's musings last week, can I start by saying that one dissolvable Disprin has gotten me through a vicious post wedding hangover & no one even asked me what I needed it for.  They're dead right but about reading the label before you take any medication.  I had a friend who took a laxative by accident once when he had diarrheoa, with disastrous consequences.

I'm boycotting Solpadeine in an effort to force them to rethink this new interview madness.  If the whole band do it they'll most definitely notice the lull in sales.

Anyway, I'm furious. Every time I hear someone (who isn't actually trying to speak French) put 'tres' in front of a word I get homicidal.  To be honest with you, I have been accused in the past of having a short temper, but surely I'm not alone in this!? It makes everyone sound like Rosie Webster, and she is a horror. "Bumped into Fuinneog last night, it was TRES awkward". Disgusting.

On another Coronation Street related point, can someone PLEASE kill off Ashley & his byor sharpish. Absolute horrors.

I think I wish I was Justin Beiber. Like, obviously he doesn't know he's a knob end, but he's got more money then 789 times me & all young birds seem to fancy him & he looks like he has really soft skin & loads of pairs of jeans. I'd say he doesn't even have to wash any because he always has another pair around. And even if he did need to wash a pair he almost definitely wouldn't have to do it himself.  I can't imagine ever wanting for anything more.

I was just watching that Nanny 911 show. Never has a woman laid down 'a carpet of stability' with such ease as this one. Her main area of expertise apparently is getting children to go to sleep in under 60 minutes. They timed it. 55 minutes.  Unreal.  Anyhow, I was going to go for a run & not put butter on my bread in an effort to become healthier, but instead I'm off to buy a pair of these Reetone runners. Apparently just putting them on tones your arse & thighs in minutes. You'd be stupid not to.

This weeks homework is to buy dissolvable Disprin, watch Rubberbandit's Guide to Limerick City & listen to Grand Pocket Orchestra.

PS - Also, what will I dress up as for Hallowe'en? Turns out I'm too tall to be Awesome-o from South Park so you can leave that out. And Pockets & I have gone as ghosts the last couple years so that won't do either. Suggestions below please.

MayKay
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October 2010

Pockets writes:
I can’t deal with it anymore. Is there anything more smug than a pharmacist asking you what you want Solpadeine for, all decked out in their tidy whites, prim and proper, when you clearly have a hangover and just want to feel that little bit better?

“It’s to do my fucking gardening!” a friend of mine told them recently.

I can’t deal with anymore. The barrage of questioning, the knowing glances, that glint in their eyes that says: “I’m onto you”. Of course you’re onto me. It’s two o’clock, it’s a Tuesday, I’m wearing shorts, I can barely look you in the eyes. Do I really expect you to believe that I’ve got an allergy to all other medicine apart from Solpadeine and that I broke both of my ribs last night in a mysterious skateboarding accident?

“Have you ever heard of Nurofen?”

Oh here we go. Let’s make with the inferior brands. It’s like going to buy a pair of Nike Air Jordans and coming out with fucking sandals.

“Did you know that Solpadeine is harmful to the liver?”

Horse, look at the state of me. I clearly reek of booze and I was clearly out last night. Do I really look like a lad who cares about his liver at this exact moment in my life? I want to feel better! I’m not going to burn twelve of them on a spoon and hardwire them to my veins.

I’ve even tried Feminax at this point. I was worried I was going to grow tits for a while.

Luckily I’ve finally perfected my spiel. I went in, in my shorts and my Nikes (tremendously comfortable footwear) and told them I needed it for my girlfriend, as it was her time of the month, all the other painkillers make her sick. They didn’t believe me of course.

During the course of my inquisition, I flat out told them: “Listen, I’m not being funny, boss, but my bird is a fucking nightmare at the moment as you can imagine. If I come home with anything less than Solpadeine I’m going to genuinely be back in here with two broken ribs and you’re gonna have to give me the Solpadeine regardless.” Laughs all round, Solpadeine in pocket, pharmacist in pocket. Now I just have to make twelve last a month.

Original Article appears in UCD University Observer.  
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Posted : August 2010
Pockets writes: new blog from FLA

"Serious album is out in a week. We're releasing it on my birthday. 26 years on from the day that "Careless Whisper" took the number one spot in the charts (Did you ever notice how shit George Michael's boat is in that music video? Seriously boss, you're George Michael - get a better boat.

Been horsing around at home for the last while since recording it, doing the odd gig here and there; but the be brutally honest I'm bored off my arse. Rumour has it Katy Perry is releasing her album on the same day as us. Serious bitch. Not impressed with her and her stupid fella in the slightest.First we had to go re-record the ending of one of our songs 'cos Russell Fuckin' Brand released one shockingly similar, and now as if that wasn't bad enough, his bird's gonna go ruin our big day.I don't know who's conspiring against us. Lord? Do you reckon God has sent Russell Brand and Katy Perry to wreck our buzz as revenge for the album title. Adebisi Shank's album's out tomorrow. You should buy that too. I've only heard two songs but it sounds great. Grand Pocket Orchestra's albums out the same day as ours. Its an amazing album.Serious good bands floating around Dublin these days. The singer songwriters have gone back to the barbeques from which they came. David Gray has officially been pronounced torture music by Guantanamo Bay (true). We won. It's over. Ireland is safe again.Right so.... buy our album. Its deadly
And now. George Michael living it up on his shit boat. "