Happy New Year to you all. It was this day last year that I decided to start up Insert Witty Pop Culture Reference Here. I want to thank you all for reading and all the feedback and kind words. You've helped make this one of the best years of my adult life and I hope you'll continue reading in 2011.

Now...to the pub.

Happy New Year.

John

Jayhaitch in Review 2010- Music(The personal stuff)

Reviewing a year gone by has been done countless times. I don’t really have anything overly original to add to it. Not that that has stopped me posting three separate review pieces with more to come. It has been a great year in music which made it really hard to come up with a blog piece that wasn’t thirty thousand words.

I’ve done a list of albums and songs I’d recommend here, but I want to just talk about a couple things music related that, on a personal level, were a big part of 2010.

Kormacs Big Band @ Electric Picnic. Over the years I have gone to see a lot of friends in various bands in pubs and clubs around the country in front of crowds ranging from seven to about seventy. All extremely talented musicians with enormous passion for making music and being on stage. I enjoyed supporting them because I love being around talented, enthusiastic people but a little part of me always wanted more for them. A big break, a huge crowd, a record deal. Something.

This year I got to see my good friend Sean Kennedy play euphonium on stage at the Electric Picnic in front of thousands of people. As the last band performing on one of the main stages at the first night of the three day festival there was a lot of interest in seeing them in the Little Big Tent. So much so that the security guards decided to stop letting people in and pulled over the barriers to keep a lot of people, me included, out.

The excluded masses were not happy about this in the slightest. One of our number reckoned if he all pushed the barrier and bouncer standing behind it would soon give way. I don’t approve of that kind of thing at all. I did, however, take advantage of it, stepping over the prone guard and into the tent to see my friend perform with Kormac’s Big Band.

I don’t know if he enjoyed it as much as I did, but it was definitely a thrill for me to see a butty o mine playing on what is, in my mind anyway, a huge stage that I had to riot to get into. And from the sounds of things he could be involved in even bigger things next year.

The reformation of Pulp. I’ve already spoken about how happy this news made me here. It is very exciting and hopefully a chance for me to see a band who have always been one of favourites. To see my friends get excited by this news transported me back ten years to when we were young and cool without mortgages, credit cards, kids or hassles.

Seriously, I will steal and sell a child on the black market for ticket to one of their gigs. Or at least work a couple of extra shifts to pay for it.

Stevie Wonder in the O2. When my good friend Martin rang me to tell me of this gig, I was hanging out with another friend and his kids. That was when I first considered kidnapping of minors as a viable way to obtain concert tickets.

Again, I have already blogged about my Stevie love. His music is joyous and uplifting and nothing can ever be too bad when you listen to it. This was the first time he had played in Ireland in something like twenty five years and I was damned if I wasn’t going to be there to enjoy it.



The anxiety I felt as I sat on the ticketmaster website at two minutes to nine the morning they went on sale palpable. One hand on the mouse ready to click refresh, the other clutching my credit card, even though I already had the card details stored under profile. I wasn’t taking any chances. When I successfully acquired I could have danced around the room.

The gig itself was fantastic. He played all the classics and while he was never going to be dancing around the stage he manage to put on an amazing show. He had two drummers and a bongo player for crying out loud. Some people later complained that the sound wasn’t great at the gig. The fact that each song was flowing through my mind and soul meant that I never noticed it.

The Arcade Fire. Before this year, I had seen the Arcade Fire live twice and owned both their albums. That makes it sound like I was a big fan, but to be honest, I wasn’t really sure. I liked some of their stuff, Funeral is a great album but Neon Bible was only ok. When I saw them in the Olympia in 2007 I was decidedly under whelmed.

When there new album, The Suburbs, came out some friends were raving about it, but I was in no real rush to hear it. On top of that, when I saw the price for tickets for the gigs they announced in the O2 my mind was definitely leaning towards writing them off.

Eventually I got around to listening to their latest opus. It was fantastic. Sixteen fantastic songs of boredom, disillusionment and just growing up in American suburbs (The band are ostensibly Canadian but Win and William Butler were born and raised in Middle America.)

Stand out tracks like Ready To Start and Rococo lead the way but the recording never lets up and the even on the back end songs like We Used To Wait and Sprawl(Flatland) make it easily one of the most consistently good albums of recent times. There is no filler here. Without question, Album of the Year

They are probably going to become the biggest band on the planet in the next couple of years and I’ll have to hate and begrudge them, in the same way I do U2 or REM. Not the same way I loathe bands like Kings of Leon and Coldplay. No I do that because they are shite.

The album was so good, it made me want to go to one of the concerts, but ticket prices these days are something that a struggling writer can easily justify spending, what with having to eat and live under a roof. So I would just have content myself with listening to them on my earphones.

That was until I was on the receiving end of one of the most thoughtful, sweet gesture. A very good friend of mine, whose fanaticism about her music is matched only by her kind heart and generous nature, had gotten herself a ticket for the Sunday night gig. Tragically, she lost a close member of her family and could not go for obvious reasons.

At a time when she could be forgiven for ignoring the outside world and forgetting about such trivial things as a rock band, she thought of me. She got her housemate to bring in the ticket to me in work, hours before the gig was due to start, because she wanted me to enjoy it.

It was one of the most touching things I’ve experienced. I struggled not to shed a tear, standing there in Muji. A little later at the gig, I did. They were fantastic live and I knew that it was something my friend would have loved to experienced. I was emotional because she couldn’t and so grateful because I was. I really need to find a way to thank her. I think I’ll start my dedicating my music review of 2010 to her.

Music has a beautiful way of connecting with people. It helps form memories, it comforts, it encourages. It speaks to you when you’re lonely. It makes you happy. Sex, driving, exercising, drinking. Its all better with music. Everyone should have music in their life.

Its like that scene in the end of The Commitments when Jimmy Rabbite is being interviewed by an imaginary talk show host. When asked if he has any final words on the story of the band he answers in his Dublin Accent;

“We skipped the light fandango, turned cartwheels cross the floor, I was feeling kinda seasick, til the crowd called out for more.”

“That’s very profound Jimmy. What does it mean?”

“I’m fucked if I know Terry.”

Jayhaitch in Review 2010- Music

I did a kind of movies of 2010 list here, so in fairness it’s only right I do one for music. Everybody loves music. Well except for Simon Cowell…but we won’t get into that right now. This is just going to be a very basic list of albums that I’ve loved this year.

A big thank you to the people who have kept me clued into what is worth listening to and what I shouldn’t. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably be bopping away Miley Cyrus’s latest album (that’s legal now right?)

It has to be said, even from the other side of the planet, MJK has kept me relatively down with the kids. Dropbox is an awesome invention. His recommendations are usually on the money and he probably knows what I might like better than I do. Even back when I was slightly more obstinate when it came to music (‘if they aren’t black or dead its shite‘) he would always suggest things which invariably became some of my favourite albums.

Others such as Vicky, Martin and The Woolly Yarmouth have thrown out some endorsements which have been played over and over here in Jayhaitch central. Of course as a man of impeccable taste I did manage to find some choice cuts on my own.

So without further adieu I give you the music that has been melting my ears this year. Again it won’t be proper reviews. I’m not that kind of writer and I don’t have the vocabulary to make it not sound like I’m stealing from Rolling Stone, Hot Press or heaven forbid Q magazine. They are just stuff I really like and if you enjoy what I write I think you might enjoy some of them too.

• I’m New Here- Gil Scot Heron ( short but deep album from the man who more or less invented rap…the good, deep, political sort not the Lil Wayne kind)
• Wake Up- The Roots and John Legend
• D’Angelo- Interpretations (Two cover albums of classic soul by two fantastic modern exponents of the genre)
• The ArchAndroid- Janelle Monae (fantastic debut album, saw her at Electric Picnic. Sparkling stage show to match her ultra sparkling teeth)
• Tomorrow Morning- Eels (Another great release from E and his cohorts. ‘This is were it gets good’ is one of the sexiest songs of the year, in a dirty kind of way)
• Threadbare- Port O’Brien
• Grinderman 2- Grinderman (I struggle with Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Grinderman works for me though)
• Scott Pilgrim Vs The World O.S.T.- Various ( a mix of old and new indie kid cool tracks here)
• Scratch My Back- Peter Gabriel ( An album of quality covers by the man who was replaced by Phil Collins)
• All Enchanted People- Sufjan Stevens (Although I have to say his Xmas album is terrible. Folksy Xmas? Fucksy Xmas more like)
• The Budos Band- The Budos Band
• Band of Joy- Robert Plant
• High Violet- The National (a very late possible contender for album of the year.)

Since I first listened to High Violet last week I’ve gotten annoyed with other music that isn’t it. And as long as it’s not ruined by being used in Greys Anatomy or anything, I have decided that I want the last track from this album, Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks, played at my funeral….whenever that should happen. Bit bleak for a xmas blog? Nah!

For my actual Album of the Year choice, you can find that in my more personal take on Music for 2010. If you have a different idea on what should be top dawg, why not let me know? I’m always up for listening to new stuff. Even if I wasn’t always.

Jayhaitch in Review 2010- Movies

Around this time last year I wrote a piece that was subsequently the start of what as been a really interesting and fulfilling time for me. When I sat down to write Jayhaitch 2009 it was supposed to be just something throwaway and frivolous to entertain some mates on Facebook.

As I typed, what started as a joke turned into one of the most open and honest things I’ve ever done. I revealed stuff about me that I wouldn’t normally be inclined to talk about. That’s was never my aim and I was a little embarrassed by all the nice comments and feedback that I got. That said, my bashfulness was beaten down and I realised I wanted more.

I don’t mean I wanted plaudits and praise, although it was nice. I wanted people to take in an interest in what I was saying and writing seemed like a good way to get whatever message I might have, out there. And so was born this blog and the reigniting of the desire to be a writer.

That review of my year was definitely the spark that kick started everything I’ve tried to do since. Whether you think that’s a good or a bad thing or not I’ll leave up to you. Personally I loved it so much, its back. Another year older, wiser and happier.

Jayhaitch 2010 is going to be done in a couple of parts. It’s been a busy and interesting twelve months and if I tried to fit it all in to one post some readers with shorter attention spans might struggle to keep focused.

You should think of this as the aperitif. Just a little something to whet your whistle before I stick up the succulent prime cut of the personal stuff. This will just be a bit of a list of things I’ve enjoyed whilst turning the pages of my calendar. The juicy, bare all, expose will come closer to the end of the year, so make sure you check back regularly.

With a name like InsertWittyPopCultureReferenceHere, I think there is a certain responsibility on be to actually make said references regularly. And with that in mind I give you the Jayhaitch Year in Review 2010- the pop culture stuff.

Movies is probably a good place to kick this off. With the aid of my trusty UGC multipass I have once again seen a lot of movies this year. Some of them were terrible. The Expendables, Whip It, Due Date, all best forgotten. I’ve already expressed my opinion on the abombination that was The Karate Kid. But I want to focus on the good, not the bad and the ugly.

I’m not going to do a top ten or my favourite or whatever. There are plenty of magazines, newspapers and blogs that will and have been doing that for years. Yes, Inception probably was the film of the year and Scott Pilgrim versus the World is so much fun that I saw it three times in the cinema and still continue to shout ‘We are Sex Bob-omb and we are here to make you sad and think about death and stuff’ at regular intervals.

The likelihood is you already know that. And if you don’t, you will be able to read about it in other publications year in review pieces. Both movies got a lot of mainstream coverage when they came out and proved quite popular with ticket buyers. If you haven’t seen them, then along with these other mainstream movies from this year you should catch them on sky movies or get them from Xtra Vision.

• Up In The Air
• The Social Network ( A movie about Facebook!!)
• How to Train Your Dragon
• The Town (Affleck is a much better director than actor)
• Shutter Island (Inception would never have worked without this. Di Caprio finally seems like a grown up)
• Hot Tub Time Machine (yes seriously. Its laugh out loud funny and its got John Cusack…you know how I feel about Cusack)
• Kick Ass (ultra violence, profanity from minors, the banana split theme tune, what’s not to like)

No, what I’m more interested in is letting you know about some of the great movies that you may have missed. Maybe they weren’t marketed very well or they were only shown one week in mainstream cinemas and that was the week Sex and the City 2 was out and it was the wife’s turn to pick.

I thoroughly enjoyed all these movies and I believe my intelligent clued in readers with a sense of humour would get something from them too. Even if you don’t like all of them, I believe there will be at least one that will enrich your life, even if its just for a little while.

• Gainsbourg- Vie Heroique (Quirky bio pic of quirky French chanteur. It has weird puppets and it validates somewhat that even ugly French people are sexy while the pretty ones are super sexy)
• Winters Bone (Amazing break through performance from Jennifer Lawrence in this redneck film noir)
• A Prophet (Hard hitting French prison drama)
• Four Lions ( Where to start? A black comedy about British Islamic fundamentalist who plan to suicide the London Marathon whilst disguised as characters from breakfast cereal boxes. Hilarious and sad. Satire and Farce. From Chris Morris the creator of Brasseye, Jam and the Day Today.)
• Sex and Drugs and Rock n Roll (Another musical biopic, this time of cockney geezer Ian Dury)
• Bad Lieutenant : Port of Call- New Orleans
• Worlds Greatest Dad (This and Bad Lieutenant are so good that I was able to ignore the fact that two actors whom I despise are the leads)

Many of these films were overlooked by the popcorn brigade which is real shame. None of them are easy watching and that might explain the poor box office. It might require a bit more effort to view these movies but if you have any faith in anything I say, trust me. It will be worth it.

Wenceslas

“I just got Mam a bamboo vegetable steamer for Xmas. That’s a good present isn’t it?”

I overheard this particular piece of genius at around 3 p.m. last Christmas eve. I was standing at the bus stop and this person was talking on his mobile. He was a grown man so he couldn’t use youth as an excuse for such a preposterous gift.

I looked away to hide a smirk and I realised I wasn’t the only one. The other potential Dublin Bus passengers mirrored my look of bemusement at the ludicrousness of both the statement and the sentiment.

If I were to hand my Mother a kitchen utensil (regardless of whether it was made of a flexible wood or not) on the 25th of December, I’m sure I would left in no doubt that its more than just any thought that counts. There is also the strong possibility that I would be picking bamboo splinters from hair whilst having to clean up the debris.

Don’t get me wrong. I can’t say I find it easy shopping for Christmas gifts and I don’t just mean for my mum. My dad is just as difficult, I have no idea what my brothers are into and when I ask my sister what she would like, she smiles and says ‘I don’t mind.’ However, despite the nigh impossible nature of the task, I managed to complete most of my festive shopping for this year.

I just need to get one or two things for some children of friends and I’m done. It was actually relatively painless. I’m not overly enamoured with my selection, but faced with the budgetary constraints of a part time shop assistant, I did OK.

I went mostly with DVD’s, CD’s and books as token ideas. Stuff I know the recipient would like but I would have preferred to have given more personal gifts that required a bit more effort than just running to Tower Records and queuing.

Time was a problem. I’ve never been busier in the run up to Christmas. Writing books, working in Muji, meeting friends who I neglected to write books, going to gigs. All this has taken a toll on my seasonal Santa sponsored sharing.

Basically what I’m trying to say is, I’m really sorry. I didn’t get you anything this year.

That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you. Oh no. I didn’t have time to get you all individual presents, but I did have time to speak to one guy for whom time isn’t an issue.

Dear Santa

Hi, how’s it going. Remember me. It’s Jayhaitch from Crumlin. You brought me the Casio keyboard in 87. It was great thanks a million…I really should have taken lessons, but I was always just happy to plink and plonk the keys. I don’t want you think I didn’t appreciate it.

I know I’m not supposed to be writing to you anymore. As an adult I’m supposed to pretend you don’t exist so that you concentrate on the younger kids.

That’s cool, I can dig that. But here’s the thing. I have actually been super good this year; I’ve cut back on the booze. I’m always positive and try to help people. I don't talk about people behind their back. Seriously….I’ve been a relative saint this year.

And it’s not even that I’m looking for gifts for myself. Honestly I’m fine Santa, I don’t need anything. But life has been super hectic recently and I haven’t had a chance to get anything for my friends. So I was wondering if you could help me out. Why don’t I give you my list and see what you can do. I don’t expect miracles or anything.

They are all great people. Some of them have young families or are having kids in the New Year. If you could see your way to making sure they are all happy and healthy that would be very cool.

I don’t know if you heard, but due some serious mismanagement by a series of incompetent buffoons, Ireland has been a bit economically unstable lately. If you could make sure none of my friends suffer because of this that would be great. I really couldn’t care less about bankers, politicians and fat cat businessmen. You can let them swing if you want, but if you could just make sure my friends are ok for work and can pay the bills, you’d be a legend.

Have you been reading Blog, Santa? Insertwittypopculturereferencehere? I think you’d really enjoy it. I really enjoy doing it. Being a writer is great. I have a few friends who are doing stuff they love doing too. It’s great to see them following their dreams. I’m very proud of them all. I know you’re something of a patron of the arts, so you should really make it so they do really well in 2011.

If you do that I promise I’ll be even better this year. I’ll even cut out the dubious 'relationship choices' … although I’m sure as a red blooded man you can understand some that.

I know not everyone can have a great year and there has to be sadness in some peoples life. If it’s a case that any of my friends have a tough time could you make sure they have support. If bad things happen, let them find solace somewhere. Can you make sure they know they can always talk to me if they want?

So you see Santa…Its not like I’m being greedy or mean or anything. I mean if you want to get me a publishing deal or a girlfriend who looks like Penelope Cruz, I’m very cool with that, but you should look after my friends first.

Yours sincerely

Jayhaitch.

So you see it’s not like I forgot about you guys completely. I’m sending you Christmas wishes and I’ve dedicated a blog to you. Surely that’s better than socks and Lynx deodorant box set.I can always get you a veg steamer for your birthday?

Semolina

Fifty years ago today, Paul McCartney and Pete Best were deported from Hamburg having been accused of arson. Apparently they were lighting condoms on fire to provide illumination for the bands van. One would hope that as a Knight of the realm, Sir Paul has put his prophylactic pyromania behind him.

As an opening paragraph to one of my blogs, I think that is probably one of the more interesting ones that I have done. Unfortunately it is completely apropos of nothing. I just needed to write something. And I don’t mean that as in ’I was stuck for a beginning. I mean it in the way a junkie ’needs’ to score some of that sweet sweet H. (That’s how drug addicts talk, right?)

I have basically spent the last thirty days writing as part of NaNoWriMo. If I wasn’t sitting in front of my laptop, I was in a pub or coffee shop, with pen and paper scratching my ideas down while trying not get so drunk or wired to make no sense. And if I wasn’t actually writing, I was thinking or dreaming or planning. And having not written anything now for thirty six hours, I miss it

Was it worth it? Well the quality of the work has yet to be determined. As a novel it is in its infancy, but I think some of the ideas in it are pretty good. If you enjoy reading my blogs then you’ll be happy to hear the humour and style have translated. It touches on some of the issues that we are all facing in the current climate, sociologically speaking. There is no snow.

Did I hit the target? I did. Over fifty thousand words in thirty days, actually twenty nine because I finished a day early. That’s despite, flu’s, hangovers, jobs, familys and other distractions. Having never had to write a thesis or anything of any considerable length I did wonder if I would have the discipline to follow through. Now that I know I do, I’m pretty proud of myself and I believe it really is the start of something for me.

So you’ll have to forgive me for writing another entry about me and my novel. I just really needed to write something. I was feeling guilty and restless not doing anything. I may have created a very interesting problem for myself.

Luckily I have a few projects to work on between now and when I look at doing the second draft of the novel (probably in January.) But until they get going I’ll just have to continue my self indulgence here. It is my blog after all. Its either that or I’m going to have to start burning contraceptives.


In fairness, if Paul McCartney wants to go around setting fire to johnnies, well then I hardly think it’s the place of the German constabulary to say he can’t. The man was in The Beatles for crying out loud. I was listening to Let It Be and The White Album earlier. They basically own music. Between them and George Martin they seem to have been responsible for every possible musical notion or concept. Don’t believe me? Go listen to their albums and remember, they did it first.

And yet there are people out there who would have you believe that the Beatles are aren‘t as good as their hype. I may have actually said something to that effect at one stage. When I was twelve.

If you were to type ‘The Beatles are overated’ into Google you will return over eleven hundred matches. In fairness, if you search ‘Lady GaGa is a talent less twat’ you get nine thousand so I guess the internet isn’t all wrong.

The thing about The Beatles, even on their most basic level they were brilliant. They took a song, started it with the best national anthem in the world (even when we were hating France in the World Cup we sang along at the start) and then they stuck on a the most simple human philosophy, ‘All You Need is Love.’

And even after crafting some to the most engaging, touching and down right catchy songs, Ringo went on to voice Thomas the Tank Engine. Over rated? I bet the Fat Controller doesn’t think so.

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

Another weekend over and another lagging behind on my target. At least I’m not letting this novel writing take over my life. Between a bit of a cold, a cutesy gig and other distractions I kind of lost out on two days of NaNoWriMo but it’ll all be good

It’s now two days past the half way point time wise and I have just reached twenty five thousand words. It’s definitely salvageable. It’s also a fantastic feeling. I’m not usually this focused nor have I ever been known for my sticking power. If I finish this project, before or after the deadline that will be the biggest achievement I could hope for going in.

While it hasn’t taken over my life it is certainly dominating my thoughts. I woke up from a dream on Friday night convinced that my subconscious had revealed a plot device that would catapult my script into the stratosphere. For twenty minutes I lay in bed trying to figure out how best to work it in. It was only at the end of this time did I remember my book had a modern day contemporary setting and any involvement my hero had with Vikings would seem a bit of a stretch in reality.

Regardless of my dream psyche trying to sabotage me, I have reached the mid way point both in word count and actual midpoint of the story. I’ve established my characters and the reasoning behind why the hero is the way he is. Going forward I will be dealing the changes he will go through and how it affects those around him. I’m excited.

Outside of Status Update (it’s still called that by the way, I’ve grown attached) this weekend started of really well. After the fantastic new of the Pulp reunion last week, I got to indulge another of my mid nineties Britpop pleasures on Saturday night. Once again thanks to my friends in the NCH I got to go along and see Cerys Matthews.

When I was in my early twenties I had an enormous crush on her and her laddish beer swilling rock and roll ways. These day the former lead singer of Catatonia has reinvented herself as something of an earth mother and exudes such charm on stage that I contemplated a stage invasion just so as I could give her a hug.

With an effusive smile a thick sexy Welsh accent, she carried off an incredibly organic first half of the show where she indulged her love of Celtic traditional songs (Irish and “Welsh) and American country. In the second half she was joined by an almost complete orchestra, which when she got accustomed to the bigger sound added to the offerings from her most recent solo work.

The warm fuzzy feeling was wrapped up with her encore. When she returned to the stage she was followed by her boyfriend who in honour of Dublin being the location of their first date, had chosen the stage of the National Concert Hall as the place to propose marriage to her.

She took, and jokingly said she would think about it but her rendition of Elvis’s “Love Me Tender” was directed solely at her suitor, left the audience in no doubt that it would be a yes. Overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment she then messed the lyric of her final song “Spancil Hill.” She blamed him for ruining her life time ambition to sing the ballad in front of an Irish audience.

A very understanding audience, who were more than happy to her another go at it. She knocked it out of the park this time.

Wordsmith

Writing is tough. I’ve basically spent the last eight days writing or thinking about at writing. I get up early and stay up late so that I can do it and squeeze in life.My brain is constantly working and I didn’t even have an episode of Glee that I could switch off with this week. I couldn’t be happier.

Since NaNoWriMo started last Monday its been hard to think of the last thing I’ve done that wasn’t related to the creative organisation of my vocabulary. I had planned that Thursday was going to be my day off. This was a day off where I worked the job that pays my bills. When I clocked off I went and enjoyed a delicious, laughter filled, Indian banquet with some friends. But when that was over I went home and did my homework for the Take Me There travel/blog writing workshop. Did I say a day off?

This is not me complaining, honestly. I’m just trying to give you an idea of what I’m doing. So far for the novel I have written just under 12000 words out of 50,000. Saturday night I was one thousand words ahead of schedule. Today I am 2k behind. In the space of two days. Its an interesting project and I’m loving the process.

For those of you who missed my shameless whoring on facebook and twitter, you will be pleased (or indifferent but definitely not enraged) to hear that someone else has thought my writing is good enough to stick on the internet. My first short story has been published in Wordlegs. A very proud moment. And judging by how I feel about the story now, I may actually make it as a temperamental artist yet.

In non writing good news, did you see Pulp have reformed. Generally I oppose to bands getting back together or doing reunion shows, but I will make an enormous exception in this case. Pulp have a catalogue of some of the most real songs you will ever hear. If you can listen to a Pulp song without actually seeing the evocative image they have painted in song, you need to switch of your TV and go and read some fucking books.

Lyrically they talk about sex and heartbreak, drugs and misspent youth, the futility and joy of life without ever resorting to cliché or condescension. You either get it or you don’t. If Jarvis Cocker where ever to write such a horrific lyric as “My Sex is on Fire” you can guaranteed it will from an encounter with Janice who works in the local bookies and he will be visiting a free clinic promptly

I’ve said here before that if I ever have a dog, I’d name him Jarvis as a tribute to Mr. Cocker. Unlike Michael Jackson’s 1996 performance at the Brits, I think he might appreciate the ridiculousness of that.

Scrivener

How’s everybody’s All Hallows eve treating them. Mine currently involves drinking cans of Polish lager and chewing far too many cheap sweets. My teeth are starting to get paranoid that our relationship is coming to an end.

This is just a quick entry to let you know about what’s going to be happening here at Insert Witty Pop Culture Reference Here ( I really wish I picked a better name) for the month of November. There is going to be a slight change in the format due to some interesting projects I’ve got going on.

November, those interested in writing will know, is a very busy month. It is National Novel Writing Month. For anyone who isn’t let me explain. NaNoWriMo as it is down is an annual event where writers from around the world (It started off in just one country and they didn’t want to lose the snappy abbreviation) attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in the calendar month.

This is my first attempt at it. There is no prize as such, other than pride but it seems to be a great motivational tool and a good way to chat to other writers and get advice and feedback on the writing process. I’ve always wanted to write a novel and the whole point of this blog was to build up a discipline to write more. So lets give it a go.

My novel was originally going to be called Daffy Duck and the Intenet Café, but I was worried that people might associate that with the Danny Boyle movie The Beach.(I presume the same character is in the Alex Garland Novel...but I haven't read it.) Then somebody did link them together so I decided to change the title. So far it is called Status Update but that is liable to change.

Hopefully it will be a Hornby-esque tale of a guy struggling to find his place in a grown up world. It sounds semi-autobiographical and to be honest there will be lots of elements of me in the hero including some of the things he does and sees. Hey, they say write what you know.

I don’t know if any of you has tried to write 50, 000 words before but considering it takes me a 2-3 hours to write a standard one of my blogs (about 1500 words.) So its quite intimidating. Editing of the 50, 000 words is discouraged as the idea of the programme is to complete the novel regardless of spelling, grammar or stylistic flow. That can all be checked in December.

Of course this means my normal blog writing schedule will suffer.

But fear not I hope to still be posting here. I plan to use the site as a way to monitor my progress on the novel and keep a kind of diary in my first proper concerted effort at producing a book. This way if you guys want to give me any tips or advice or a kick up the arse you can do it all here. I’d really appreciate it. Of course I could get so swamped that I never get the chance. But it’s a plan anyway

The plan is to do on average 2000 words a day for 6 days a week and then by the end of November Status Update should be complete…that would be awesome. One of the first blogs I did was about how I wanted to be a writer. To finish a draft of a novel I think would be the shine on what has been a good year for me as a new writer.

Also this month, I will be doing a Blog/ Travel writing workshop with award winning writer Theo Dorgan. This should be interesting. I’m not really sure what to expect but hopefully I can take away a couple of things that will help improve my output both here and in general.

There is one more thing happening to me as a writer this month that I will tell you all more about when it is ready. I will say I’m very excited about it I really hope it’s a first step of many for me in making headway in the putting words in sentences business.

Its an hour and 30 minutes before November the 1st. I’m seriously considering getting started as soon as the bells strike midnight. Wish me luck.

Charlatan

One of the things I enjoy most in life is sitting alone in the cinema with a turkey, potato salad and Swiss cheese sandwich. Unfortunately , despite all my brain wracking, that does not make for a good blog post. So I’ll put that concept aside for a while and tell you about another of my great pleasures.

Last night, thanks to my good friend Aisling, I had the privilege of seeing a group of immensely talented musicians performing on stage in the National Concert Hall. Men and women doing what they love. Playing instruments they have spent years perfecting and entertaining the crowd with their craft.

It really is a joy to watch great musicians combining their individual talents to create a tight sound and to know that they are enjoying playing as much as the audience is enjoying listening and watching. A brass section of twelve horns, bass, drums, guitar, and Hammond organ made up the Rhythm and Blues Orchestra ,with their leader, Jools Holland on piano.

Along with four guest vocalists including Alison Moyet, this group of accomplished players treated the crowd to a collection of Boogie Woogie, Rhythm and Blues, Jazz standards and some of their original compositions. Each song had feet tapping, heads nodding and fingers clicking. Every member of the band had their moment in the spotlight and each virtuosic solo was greeted with tremendous applause by appreciative fans.

It was the type of gig that you can’t help but feel good about. Guaranteed to put a smile on your face. A smile that only gets bigger when you catch the eye of the person next to you and realise they are experiencing the same joy as you.

Halfway through the gig, I had a bit of thought. I looked down on the stage and it occurred to me that none of the performers, with the exception of guest vocalist Rosie Holland (Jools daughter) were what you would describe as young. They ranged from middle aged to legendary trombone player Rico Rodriguez who is 76. Everyone a mature, experienced, musician.

And then I thought about all the people sitting at home watching the X Factor at the exact same time.

I’ve been thinking about how best to put this all day. I know it’s an incredibly popular programme and you possibly watch it. I’m trying not to offend or judge too harshly. I want to balance criticism with objectivity.

However, every time I start to write I just end up ranting about how Simon Cowell is an evil manipulator cackling as he constantly pumps trash onto our TV screens on a weekly basis and the people who watch the programme are BRAINWASHED FUCKWITS…..ahem…excuse me.

I’ve spoken before about the mind numbing effect of television and one of the main reasons I got rid of my cable TV channels was because of tripe like the X factor. I found it too easy to sit there, brain off, remote control in hand and let it pollute my existence. Saturday night zombification. Then they decided to show it on Sundays too.

Even now, when I don’t have the stations I still can’t escape it. I know about the Gamu controversy, Mary from Tesco, Matt with and without his hat. There are people called Cher and Katie on it who are ’spannerfaces’ apparently. I know Cheryl is having a hard time and Louis is picking on her…allegedly.

The free morning paper seems to have a two page spread on it every day. Magazine and newspaper covers blast out scandalous and shocking headlines about the contestants and the judges. Everyone I know talks about it or post something on face book about it. It’s like I’ve caught the X-Factor disease through secondary media. Joining the masses as we mindlessly wait for Cowell to give us our opinion.

You probably think that last sentence is a step too far. Have I finally joined the list of batty, conspiracy theorist nuts who blog? I’m haven’t honestly. But. If I had, I’d probably point out that, with the most popular TV programmes in the UK and the United States broadcasting his every whim, Simon Cowell has access to numbers of unquestioning subjects, I mean captive viewers, which Hitler would give his one remaining testicle for.

The worst are the people who know it is shit and still watch it. For entertainment!!! Everybody loves the first couple weeks with all the mad, bad, self deluded lunatics. Those people who are awful or mental or both who squawk out cat torturing versions of Celine Dion tunes. We love to see the classless rejects get up in Simon and Louis face Jerry Springer style. ‘Oh no you didn’t.’

The thing is, if I were to stand on the street and laugh at someone who was obviously mentally unbalanced you’d be right to call me a bit of an asshole. Yet here we are enjoying the exploitation of simpletons all in the name of entertainment.

After that we are through to the live stages where the final 12 sing their hearts out to win the heart of the world. Except it’s never about the singing. In fact it would be very interesting to see what percentage of the show running time is actual singing

Instead it all about the backstage drama and whatever controversy was in the paper this week it’s about them ‘stepping out of their comfort zone.’ It about how the judges mocking one another because the song doesn’t suit the performer. It’s about backstage drama. It’s about production values. It’s about how loud they can play the backing track.

Some of them are very good singers but then so is the woman down my local who sings ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ after a couple of vodka tonics. Or my cousin. She is a very good singer. I’m not saying that acts have no talent. They do. I’m saying they have no soul.

Whores for fame, money and influence, every one of them would sell their grandmother for a record contract and a cover shoot on Heat magazine. Not one of them has any interest in art, integrity or creativity. They are dictionary definition charlatans cashing in on their fifteen minutes of fame.

The perfect example of this is Jedward. The hateful twins from Dublin personify everything that is wrong with the ‘music biz.’ Talentless hacks with no discernable ability, they perform bad cover versions of songs that weren’t very good in the first place. They distract their audience with stupid haircuts, bad American accents, awful clothes and complete lack of shame. Pushed by a multi million marketing machine, they are everywhere.

On bus stops. Shop windows. Newspapers. It is virtually impossible to walk down the street of Dublin without seeing their remarkably punchable faces endorsing everything from Abrakebabra (Yea, We totally love Taco Fries, don’t we Edward? Like totally John) to UNICEF (Yea, We totally donate to all the starving babies, don’t we Edward? Like totally John.)

I normally hear two arguments to counter my distaste for these peons. The first one is ‘Ah sure what harm are they doing, its just a bit of fun for the kids.’ Is this really what you want your children to aspire to? Spiky haired arseholes who think its ok to be really bad at what they do?

If you bought a car and it was it didn’t drive properly you’d bring it back. If you bought a car that you knew was rubbish in the first place, you’d be an idiot and all your friends would rightly ridicule you. Yet its acceptable to buy really rubbish music and just accept it. If someone tried to hand your child a cowpat you would call the police. Yet no one has reported their manager, Louis Walsh.

The second argument is ‘ They might be wankers but they are rich wankers.’ And whose fault is that. Who buys the cd? Who buys three tickets for their concert for their kids at 25euro a pop? Who buys the books? The Easter eggs? The tee shirts? The kebabs? The toilet roll?

So what if they are ‘rich wankers.’ The definitive word in that sentence is still wanker. Rich is just an adjective that is used to describe what kind of wanker they are. It doesn’t make being a wanker something we should hold up as a career choice. Including this sentence, I’ve used the word wanker five times in a paragraph. I really don’t like Jedward.

I’ll give the last word on the subject of X Factor and Jedward to a man who almost twenty years was railing against the talentlessness and pointlessness of the modern pop industry. Unfortunately things have only gotten worse since Bill Hicks died. Part of me would love to hear him rant on Simon Cowell….but then maybe he would have sold out and made a novelty record with him. Probably not though judging by these words.

“Because you know if you play New Kids on the Block albums backwards they sound better. "Oh come on, Bill, they're the New Kids, don't pick on them, they're so good and they're so clean cut and they're such a good image for the children." Fuck that! When did mediocrity and banality become a good image for your children? I want my children to listen to people who fucking ROCKED! I don't care if they died in puddles of their own vomit! I want someone who plays from his fucking HEART!”

That leads me right back to my original point. Musicians who are good at what they do and enjoy what they do should be revered. They should be held up as an example for children. I don’t mean all the sex and drugs part. That stuff is nobody’s business but there own. But if you can get a child to fall in love with an instrument and want to learn to play and want to be good at it, then they are on their way to being happy.

Disposition

I don’t think I could ever be described as ray of sunshine, although some have tried albeit sarcastically. Over the years I have tended to voice my grievances with the world’s ineptitude and have never been shy about letting people now if I’m upset. Someone once said I could change the mood in a room. They didn’t mean it as a compliment.

People who have only got to know me in the last year or two may not have seen this side of me. I’ve been trying to be a much more positive person. I’m a veritable happy go lucky scamp compared to the pre therapy Jayhaitch.

Its not that things don’t annoy me anymore. They do. Equally if not more so. These days however, I try to let things slide. Look on the bright side.

I do this for a couple of reasons. Obviously the main reason is because all that anger isn’t good for you. Getting stressed by (in a lot of cases, little) things is not good for the mental well being.

When people talk about a metaphysical weight off their shoulders this is what they are talking about. Getting wound up and holding on to pet peeves manifests itself as tension in the neck and shoulders. Let that shit go.

The second reason I’m less inclined to rant is that, in the end, nobody took them (or me) seriously. The first time I went off on a bit of a tirade, people may have been shocked. The second, they might have been taken aback. The third, they nodded knowingly. The tenth, amusement. By the time I got around to my twentieth they were downright ambivalent. Nobody wants that

I’m angry dammit, listen to me, cower at my outrage.

I was as effective as Mr. Furious in Mystery Men. So these days, I count to ten, hold my breath, bite my tongue, turn the other cheek and walk away. I’m also probably a little more considerate of other people’s feelings so I tend to keep in check my disgust if I think it might offend someone.

It wasn’t easy at first. Everything still bothered me. Not rising to people’s consistent idiocy was extremely trying. It was as if the world knew I was trying to self improve and it wanted me to test me. Push me to the limits. Sometimes I would rise to the bait, take a bite out of juicy worm of stupidity.

But as I worked on my smile and nod technique it got easier. My episodes became more sporadic. I developed a certain understanding. I practiced patience. I was down right calm. I have to say it feels good.

People have noticed this change and think it’s for the better. I know at least one person who gets annoyed by my being positive while she chooses to bitch and moan about everything. Some might even suggest if it came to a Zen-off I could probably give the Dali Lama a run for his money…as long as David Bowie was the judge and not Richard Gere.

They would be wrong. I still get pissed off, a lot. I can forgive them for getting it wrong though. I think I thought I didn’t get bothered by stuff any more. I do. I just choose not to voice it. I realised this last week I found myself getting aggravated by a couple on the bus.

It was 8.20 in the morning, the earliest I had be up in at least 6 months. It was raining. The battery on my MP3 player died half way through ‘This Is Where It Gets Good‘ by Eels and I was on my way to Fighting Words. I was going to take the lead with a group of twenty-five 9 year olds for the first time. I was quite nervous and trying to shut the world out.

Then two stops after I got on the bus I was joined by a pair of simpletons who were about to make my morning worse.

In what I imagined was the first flush of a budding romance, holding hands as they came up the stairs. He took the lead looking around for a seat for them both. The bus was about five eights full so there were plenty of seats available; however there was only one seat for two free.

They were both in their mid to late 20’s. He had that really fine strawberry blonde hair that makes it hard to tell if he is actually going bald. His cheeks were red as if in a permanent blush. If you can imagine Niles from Frazier had eaten too many Tayto sandwiches your pretty close.

She was wearing the world’s least sexy outfit of jeans and a GAA jersey, probably his. I think it was a club jersey but I really couldn’t say.

They sat down in front of me, he offered her the window seat but she declined so he sat on the inside. She sat beside her man. Snuggling into him, she rests her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her along the back of the seat, his elbow dangling over onto my side.

This is where I began to get irked. That was my space. He was invading my personal bubble. I paid one Euro sixty for this journey I want the air at least till the distance of the seat in front of me and here was this interloper trying to deny me.

Eventually he moved it. My tension abated briefly. Very briefly. They then began what can only be described as snogging. The kind of kissing 14 year olds do outside the local ice rink or bowling alley. Kissing for kissing sake. Kissing because they were boyfriend and girlfriend. The kind of kissing that makes me sick.

I have no real issue with (moderate) displays of public affection as such. But it was too early in the morning for that shit. They seemed to be on there way to work so it’s not as if the kissing was going to lead anywhere. And before anyone (female) says just because you kiss doesn’t mean you are going to have sex here is a news flash. Yes it does. We only do the kissing ladies, because we want the sex…if not immediately, later. We can play the long game.

In the past I would have coughed in a very unsubtle manner and told them to get a room. This time I didn’t. I went into my tongue biting routine but I was really aware that they were annoying me. I counted to ten. The anger built. I tried to think happy thoughts but they two slurping morons in front of me were very off putting.

Just as I was about to explode and slap them both in the back of the head they had a lucky escape. She stood up and said ‘This is my stop, I love you and can’t wait to see you later’ and kissed him goodbye. And that was it. My rage subsided and once the taste of sick at her parting comment left my mouth it was all good again.

As I finished my journey I was very aware of how much they annoyed me. And I was very aware how I had been appearing to not get annoyed. Little things like that didn’t bother me anymore did they? I guess they do. I decided that this re discovery needed some analysis. I was going to keep a record of all the little things that annoyed me for a week.

I didn’t have long to wait till I found items number two and 3 on the list. After my session in Fighting Words I went to the cinema. It’s a usual Tuesday afternoon thing for me to do. I was sitting waiting for Scott Pilgrim to start (still very enjoyable on second viewing) and the adverts had yet to begin even.

Cineworld at this stage normally pipes in movie related music over the P.A. The boss must have been off on this day and a member of staff hijacked the music system and decided we all needed to hear the new album by Diana Vickers.

For those of you lucky enough not to know who Ms. Vickers is, she is a reject from X factor. She sings with such an effected voice that she sounds like a cross between Kate Bush having an orgasm and Delores O Riordan from the Cranberries having an asthma attack. She has ‘distanced’ herself from her Xfactor days in an attempt to be taken ‘seriously’ as an ‘artist.’ One of her ‘lyrics’ is about how she hates ‘rich kids’ who shop in ‘charity’ shops.

How many sarcastic inverted commas is that? You get my point.

Number 3 on the list was the trailer for the movie Vampires Suck. A ‘comedy’ lampoon (ok, no more ironic ‘air fingers‘) of the Twilight. Bereft of any artistic merit, a cheap cash in on the movie franchise that already has no soul. It happens to have been hugely successful in the United States despite terrible reviews and coming from the same stable as Another Teen Movie, Scary Movie, Meet the Spartans and others of its ilk How could anyone not be annoyed?

I was going to put the guy behind who laughed at the trailer for this abomination of cinema on the list but when the movie was over and the lights came on I saw he was a man in his 40’s dressed in the full Liverpool away kit, socks and all. So I’ll let that slide.

The rest of the list was made up in part of the following things-

• Last minute cancellations
• 
  
• People not leaving a voice message (especially when they ring from a private number)
• 
  
• Bertie Ahern in that stupid ad. (Just Bertie Ahern in fairness)
• 
  
• Wanting to put something on my list but then realising I’m blowing things out of proportion
• 
  
• Passive Aggressive Behaviour. (You can slam as many things as you like but I won’t know what’s upsetting you unless you tell me.)
• 
  
• Losing the other stuff on my list of annoyance because I was recording them on my phone and I lost my phone.
• 
  
• Losing my phone.

So as you can see. I am still prone to the bout of vitriol. I think that’s natural though. It isn’t natural to keep it all in. Get annoyed, let it out and let it go. I will still try and keep a positive spin on things but occasionally I will think about the things that annoy me and try and let them out.

If only I had some sort of public forum where I could do that without shouting at people.

Support Group

Dear C.L.

How have you been? Hope you are well? You don’t mind me writing do you? Its just….Its… I miss you. There, I said it. I really really miss you.

I’m sorry I know right to say this. We never said it was forever. I always knew you couldn’t guarantee to always be there for me. Hell, you already changed your own rules once when it looked like I didn’t have the stuff to get to you.

After that time I tried really hard. You know I did. And it seemed to be getting easier. But that didn’t last. My friends all say you are fickle but I understand. You have certain requirements and if I wasn’t meeting them…then I guess I can’t be with you.

I’ll never forget those nights we had though. You made me feel so alive. So much passion, so much excitement. I swear there were times when you had me so exhilarated my whole body throbbed and I thought my brain would explode.

Those midweek rendezvous made everything else seem bearable. Even when the bread and butter stuff was going wrong you always found a way to make me feel hope. Even with all the hassle with the bosses you were there for me.

I hear you’ve started seeing T.H. Does he make you happy? Does he give you the thrills I used to. I know its none of my business who you see but I don’t think he’s good enough for you. He’s just a poser from ‘Laandan.’ He doesn’t have the class that I have….used to have.

I know he got you on merit but he’s not what you need. Those fancy things he gives you. The Van De Vaart and Modric? They’re nice and all…but what about all the good times I gave with Alonso and Masch? I still have the El Nino….you deserve the El Nino. And even if Mr. G is past his best he still has more good qualities than T.H.

You know I’m seeing E.L. of course. I can’t keep lying to myself. I hate her stupid face. She isn’t half of you…not even a small portion compared to you. When I’m with her, I fake it. She makes me use a Poulesen and Lucas. What kind of tempo and penetration can you expect with that. And she takes me to places like Utrecht. It sounds like S.T.I.

Remember the nights we had all over Europe. Madrid, Barcelona, Turin, London. And Istanbul. What a night. I thought I was finished. Over before I’d even got started. But you, you inspired me. I pulled out the most magnificent performance I can ever remember. Do you remember how you joked about my ‘Big Pole.’

I miss you so much it makes my bones throb and my heart ache. What I wouldn’t give to be there with you once again, sharing the highs and the lows. If you can tell me there is a chance…just a glimmer of hope, I’ll walk through deserts, climb mountains, sacrifice Sammy Lee. Anything to just once more be able to say you might be mine.

Don’t let the company I keep fool you. The likes of Hodgson and Knochesky I only keep around for E.L. I’m still in your league. We can be great together once again.

I love and miss you so much.

L.F.C.

For those of you who haven’t guessed that is not me pathetically pleading to be taken back by some European beauty. If only. No these are the pleas of a man deprived of something even more special than sexy time with a Spanish senorita. I’m talking about football.

I’ve been supporting Liverpool FC since 1986. In the interest of disclosure I need to add an addendum to that statement. I began supporting Liverpool in 1986 when they won the league and F.A. cup double. Before that I supported Man Utd.

I know, I know. Heresy. You are not supposed to switch football teams and you are definitely not supposed to switch between Man Utd and Liverpool. In my defence, I was only 10. And I only supported Man Utd because my nanny had gotten me an easter egg with a Man Utd cup. They didn’t win anything that year and Livepool had.

So yea, you can call me a fair weather fan. I like to think I’ve endured enough misery over the years to restore the karmic imbalance of abandoning my first team. Man Utd as anyone with oxygen in their body knows have become the biggest and most successful team on the planet. Liverpool? Livepool have become the bane of many tortured existences.

As the only member of my extended family who supports Liverpool, I’ve tolerated the (good natured) taunts and jeers of my United loving uncles, cousins and brothers for twenty years. I could always resort to the fact that my team had an overall historical better record. Man Utd have since caught up and Livepool only have slight advantage.

Do I regret my decision to switch allegiances? Not in the slightest. For all the heartache and torment, following Liverpool has given me some fantastic moments. They have an unrivalled penchant for drama even in defeat. I still have nightmares about losing the league in 1989 to that last minute Michael Thomas goal.

When they do win? Oh they do it in style. Their ability to come back when all seems lost in the big games is a phenomenon. Never has a team mastered delivering high drama and tension the way Liverpool have. Especially when it comes to the Champions League.

Last Wednesday, as I was once again losing a game of pool to my good friend Al, Man Utd were on the T.V. playing in the Champions League. For those of you who don’t know, Liverpool didn’t qualify for the Champions League and are instead competing in Europes inferior (no other word for it) competition, the Europa League. It was then that I decided to write the above letter.

Since then it has been an incredibly tumultuous week for all Livepool fans. A 0-0 draw to the above mentioned F.C Utrecht was bad enough. Our new managers comments after the game however were bewildering.

Roy Hodgson, who’s previous managerial experience with the likes of Fulham, Neuchatel Xamax and the Finnish national team was deemed the appropriate experience to take charge of one of the biggest football names in the world, said ‘It's the first time we haven't won one of these games but to be honest it would have been unfortunate for them if we'd won the game tonight. They would have felt hard done by. For me, a draw was a more than satisfactory result.’

Well I’m sorry Roy, actually no its not. Five years ago Liverpool where the champions of Europe. Their pedigree is second to none. In no way should they be considered fortunate to be on a par with a mid table Dutch club.

It was to get even worse. Three days later, at Anfield, for so many people the home of football, we lost to Blackpool. A team in their first season in the premiership. A team with no star players. A team expected to struggle to stay up in the top flight.

A team with more heart and character than Liverpool.

At the moment Liverpool sit third from bottom in the league. Fernando Torres is injured again. Our marquee summer signing, Joe Cole, has failed to impress so far. The team are playing a dull passive style that is not the Liverpool way. It is however, the Roy Hodgson way.

We have great players but they aren’t performing. So many players are playing out of their best positions and it shows. No one seems certain of what they should be doing.

All this without even mentioning the fact that they got knocked out of the League Cup by Northampton. That’s Northampton who at the time of writing are 19th in League 2, three divisions below Liverpool. It really isn’t easy being a Liverpool fan.

The letter to the Champions league seemed like a nice little blog. Something to make fun of the current situation that my team find themselves in. Then as when the Utrecht result came in, I didn’t feel like poking fun. When the Blackpool game happened, I was too depressed to post.

A lot of the malaise has been attributed to the clubs American owners Tom Hicks and George Gillette. They took over a couple of years ago using the club as collateral and have since crippled it with debt which in turn has delayed progress on promised developments for the team such as a new ground and investment in the team.

They have angered and alienated many of the clubs great fans and have changed the atmosphere of supporters from one of hope and optimism to despair. Supporter groups have organised in an attempt to oust the owners. Protest marches and sit ins are a common occurrence at Anfield these days. And while I’m sure thick skinned , brass necked Americans like Tom Hicks couldn’t care less about fan protests there is finally a chink of light for the put upon supporters.

The Americans inability to pay their debts resulted in the banks forcing them to sell the club. If they failed to do so before the 15th of October the club would then be repossessed (as such) by the bank. The Royal Bank of Scotland did not want this and put in a non executive chairman to ensure the club was sold.

This morning it looked like a sale was agreed. With more American but this time ones who have a track record for reviving flagging sports teams fortunes. New England Sports Ventures are the parent company of the Boston Red Sox. Since taking over the Red Sox they won their first championship in over 80 years and followed that up with a second. They renovated their old Fenway Park stadium, redesigned the management and playing staff structure and basically woke a sleeping giant. The head of the consortium, John W Henry (not the Steel Driving Man) was recently voted the best owner in Major League Baseball.

The saga has not had its happy ending yet as Hicks and Gillette are attempting to block the sale as they make no profit from it. Despite the fact that they have put the club in a position where financial administration is a possibility they still have the audacity to try and screw over the club one more time. Thankfully it does not look like they have a leg to stand on legally.

So whilst always being aware of the old adage of ‘once bitten twice shy’ it looks like off the field there is hope for Liverpool. Now, if we can get the team playing to its ability and in a style that its fans have become accustomed to there may be more reasons to be positive.

Its rarely easy being a Liverpool fan. But for emotional turmoil, drama, intrigue and high tension I wouldn’t swap it for any other team. This blog has been one the more negative ones I done. My team have given me a hard time lately and yet I’m able to find hope to end it on. Having hope, that sums up supporting Liverpool in two words.

A Hundred Hundreds Bonus Blog

Well would you look at that. My blog has been viewed over 1000 times. Thats pretty cool. I don't know what i was expecting out of it but it has been very enjoyable doing it and I have to say its been great for my ego getting some lovely feedback and whatnot.

The whole writing experience has been a huge positive for me. It has helped me have some direction in this my year of 'bo-ho, slacker utopia' as Steve likes to call it and it has also been therapeutic when a professional therapist is beyond my price range.

And they say you can't put a price on mental health. You can you know. €60 a week.

But I digress.

Like all the greats, Kanye, Paula Abdul, Ashton Kutcher, I'd be nothing without you the reader. You make me want to be a better man. If I could i'd stand outside all your houses with a boombox blasting Peter Gabriel held aloft.

So as a 'reward' for allowing me to feed my self indulgence, I'm going to post the first thing I committed to paper.

Its really just an idea. Its not something I would consider a finished work and I have since taken the beginning and used it another, very different story. I look at it now as stepping stone.

I guess some of it is partially biographical, but its the biography of a different me at a different time in my life.

Anyway....normal blog service will resume this week, in the meantime thanks to anyone who has read anything i've written here.

Oh and I'm aware 100 100's isn't One thousand....well I am now.

The Most Disapproving Man in the World

As I turned into the drive he was standing there in the doorway. Waiting. Judging. With the exception of a few more wrinkles the grimace on his face was the same as the one he had fifteen years ago the time I told him about my decision about College. My Dad. The most disapproving man in the world.

Deep Breaths. Count to then. I opened the door to my latest purchase. A green, second hand Fiat Punto automobile. Twelve years old. Two previous owners.

“Hi”, I said as I stepped out. “What do you think of her?”

“How’s it going” he muttered as he approached the car. “What sort of color is that supposed to be?”

He walked around the car. Taking in every detail. Looking her up and down. My Dad knows very little about auto mechanics. But he knows I know even less. As he circled the Punto he kicked each tyre. Three times he tapped it wheel with his size 11 moccossins. Ha. I had done that when I bought it. Everyone knows to kick the tyres. It makes you look in the know. He grimaced and scratched the back of his head as he ran his fingers along the paintjob.

He questioned me as he opened the bonnet and looked at the engine. What he thought he would get from looking at it is another thing.

“ Is it a diesel engine, yea? You know that means you can’t but petrol in it? What kind of mileage is on it? Was the sales guy foreign?”

Each answer I gave him was met with a look of unbelieving. When I responded to his enquiry about the price he scoffed.

“They must have had really big windows.”

I don’t know why I put myself through it. I’m a grown man. I have a nice little business. I have friends who are actual mechanics. But I still decided to give my dad a call when I bought the car. Its good for us. He gets to think he still knows best. And besides. If he wasn’t giving out, he’d probably just sit around missing mum.

I noticed the complaining started getting worse since the funeral. He complained about the egg sandwiches at the wake. He complained about the state of the bathrooms in the funeral home. He complained about the size of the knot in my tie. He complained. He liked it.

My Dad. The worlds greatest complainer.

As he slammed the bonnet shut he asked me if I wanted a cup of tea.

“Sure” I said, walking up the steps of the porch entering through the hall door.

“ And will you take a look at the computer, I can’t get on to my online bingo”

I hated when he asks me to look at the computer.

“I’ll take a look but I can’t promise you anything” I felt like I was pleading for leniency.

“Sure didn’t you go to college” was the answer he like to trot out on these occassions

“Yea, I studied art appreciation” I tried to defend myself.

“I know”he said. And I saw that old familiar grimace one more time.