We ARE Cheaper

And now Dunne's fight back...

"We ARE cheaper", they simper.

Specifically on "CIF" and "Windowlene" it would appear.

But that's not the only difference. They're Irish, you know.

Tactical Nuclear Penguin

I've discussed Brewdog before here and, sadly, I have to report that they're at it again.

More silly stuff aimed squarely at the hard of thinking market. A very lucrative market I'm given to believe.

Their latest marketing effort is called, wait for it ... Tactical Nuclear Penguin. (The beer is called the same).

Yes, Tactical Nuclear Penguin. Isn't that just fucking hilarious?

Here's some stuff about it:

- It's the world's strongest beer - with a 32% alcohol content.
Gulp!
- Bottles are £30 each.
Gulp!
- Managing director James Watt said: "This beer is about pushing the boundaries, it is about taking innovation in beer to a whole new level."
Gulp!

Clearly none of the above "Gulps" represent drinking. They're "Gulps" of astonishment.

I wonder if Brewdog have ever considered making a beer that's remotely drinkable. Rather than just "pushing boundaries". It's difficult to know what more to say about this product. This diagram might help.

HEIGHEST OF STANDARDS

The GALWAY BAY HOTEL'SCONSISTANT COMMITMENT TO MAINTAININGTHE HEIGHEST OF STANDARDS does not, it would appear, extend to spelling and grammar.

Chateau Thierry

Has Thierry Henry, perhaps the most unpopular man in Ireland, decided to move to Galway?

Darling Clementine

If there's one thing I can't abide it's cute kiddie stories. So I never report them.

But do you prefer the standard:

You are lost for me forever,
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Or the less well known:

You are lost for me forever,
Bloody sorry, Lemonlime.

Which?

Sumptuous Suppers

I did something really bad last night and absolutely had to be punished. So instead of getting to take the kids swimming I stayed home and watched Nigel Slater's Sumptuous Suppers.

And frankly I feel that the punishment far exceeds the crime.

Now to start with, when Slater says supper he doesn't mean cheese on toast in your pyjamas and slippers. No he means to be a pompous git and, more specifically, he means dinner. But being an absolute dolt of the first water, Slater wouldn't dream of having his evening meal until at least midnight.

For every supper recipe he'll say something like:
Now at this point I could used normal tomatoes but (not being a complete prole like you lot) I'm going to use Guatemalan sun-blush tomatoes (which, presumably, are available at every good Waitrose).

When it's ready, he wouldn't dream of sitting down at the table and eating it. He insists on eating standing up like you'd expect from an insufferable old lush.

My crime was minor. Surely I didn't deserve this...

"I believe that what grows together, goes together. And my theory doesn't just apply to what I grow in my garden. I think it applies the world over".

Stunningly, our vainglorious hero has conceded that the international science of horticulture extends beyond his own precious back-yard.

Punishment over. Football Focus now.

Integrity Ready Partner

This relic from the early nineties speaks of many things. And yet ... nothing at all.

1. Reaching new heights together (And once up there...)

2. Leading the way to performance (But how? Why, by becoming an...)

3. Integrity Ready Partner (Of course!)

Integrity ready that is. When absolutely necessary, and if the money is right, then just you watch how ready we are for the old integrity, partner.

It's funny looking back at this old stuff. For the way we used to live. Of course no one would ever speak in this kind of meaningless, corporate bullshit-babble in this day and age. Would they?

Lunchtime Pint

The other Sunday, my wife and youngest daughter went to a beach safari. The eldest, eight, refused to go. That, by extension, also gave me a reprieve. She'd been to a safari at Salthill beach a few weeks before and it was rainy and windy that day. She'd been miserable. The fact that the weather was fair today was neither here nor there as far as she was concerned. Her mind was made up.

"So what should we do?" she asked me, batting the ball firmly onto my side of the court.
I racked my brains. "How about we go for a pint?", I found myself asking.
"Yes please, Daddy", she said excitedly. "Can we?".

I'd only been joking really. That's just my general fallback suggestion.

"Well ... I suppose we could", I ventured, looking at my watch. It was just after midday.
"YAYYYYYYY", she shouted. "Can I put a dress on?", she asked, already half way up the stairs.

Ok, a pint it is I thought. What a brilliant idea. And very civilised too. What could be more normal than a lunchtime Sunday pint with your Darling Daughter. Nothing, nothing at all, I told myself. She can take a book, I'll get a paper and we'll sit on the comfy sofas and just chill. GENIUS!

"We're walking down to the village by the way", I shouted up the stairs.

A lunchtime pint and exercise. Double GENIUS!

So we walked to the village hand in hand at one with nature. She'd been grumpy about the beach safari earlier but this pint idea of mine had put her in fine form. We stopped for a paper and then proceeded to the pub. I ordered a pint of cloudy German sipping lager and she asked for a soda water and lime. She got to pour her own lime and she helped herself to a very large one indeed. She also got a tube of salt and vinegar Pringles.

We sat down on the sofa and I took a sip of my sipping lager. I looked at her and smiled noticing that she'd already downed half her drink. She was munching the crisps and was happy. I picked up the Sports section and glanced back at her. Now the entire drink was gone and she was pouring the last of the Pringles into her mouth.

"Is this a race?", I asked?
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Are you ok?". "Why not read your book?", I suggested.
"Aren't you having another pint?", she asked.
"Well I've only just sipped ... would you like another?" I asked.
"Yes please", she replied. "And more Pringles…".

She came up to the bar with me and did the lime pouring again. When we got back I told her to chill out, enjoy her book and not rush.

"No more speed eating", I cautioned, holding up a finger to signify that I kind of meant business.
"Fine", she replied before proceeding to drink and eat exclusively for the next five minutes. By which time the second round was consumed.
"Can we go now?", she asked. "You're taking ages with your pint".

As we left I found myself reconsidering the genius of my cunning pint plan. (It had, at the very least, been demoted to lower case and had the exclamation mark removed.) In theory, yes, the idea did border on the brilliant. In practise, however, I must inform you that lunchtime pints as an activity for kids is, let's just say, a little ahead of it's time.

Warning, Spoiler

I know I shouldn't but it's just too tempting...

In the end the car ... gets clean.

Sorry.

More Dead Zone TV

I'm a terrible man. Last night I told a barefaced lie to my Mum. Two lies, if I'm honest.

Here's what happened.

She said to me, "You'll be letting the girls watch Strictly Come Dancing. To see all the lovely frocks".
"No ... we don't get that channel", I told her. "It's a shame".
"What about the X-Factor then", she tried. "They'll enjoy that. A lot of good singers".
"We, er, we don't have that channel either, Mum", I fibbed, not entirely sure she was buying this.

I think she did believe me though. Mothers tend not to be all that satellite savvy. She even felt sorry for me, bless her heart. Puir wee laddie, exiled away there in Ireland without even proper tv to watch.

Now I feel guilty. So today I have one last job before I settle down to watch the rugby, roast chicken safely tucked up in the oven. I'm just heading up to the roof now to point the satellite dish away from England entirely. The source of the dead zone. Just so's I'm not lying to my Mum any more.

Allez Le Verts

On the radio this morning it was contended that the acid test for being Irish, for those of a certain vintage, was based on a feeling of nostalgic exultation for the following two things:

1. David O'Leary's penalty at Italia '90 against Romania
2. Riverdance at Eurovision '91.

These two events were cited as being catalystic in the new found national confidence and planted the seeds of the Celtic Tiger. So not necessarily a good thing one might argue...

Now I'm not Irish but I do remember O'Leary's penalty fondly. There were a few Celtic players in that team so I followed the Irish with great interest.

As for Riverdance, I'd like to think that if I was Irish I'd despise it even more than I already do. Which is a lot. But I'm a bit leery as to whether this is the prevailing opinion in this state. I've met a few people who've demurred when I've blithely mentioned the utter ghastlyness of the risible Flatley and his ilk. So I don't mention it. At least I know I have Ardal O'Hanlon on my side and that'll do.

Back to the soccerball though. Ireland play France tomorrow night and even though Mcgeady might not play I'm excited about the game. I really hope, er, "we" win and beat the French over two legs. Playing them on a Saturday night is always a good thing. Their collective psyche, I expect, will be more focused on fois gras, red wine and gitanes than any sporting gaiety.

Seriously, pushing the old racism to one side, isn't this an electrifying offer in these (what are we calling it again?) "financially straitened times". In certain pubs, you don't even have to pay four euro for a pint of Heineken. For every goal that Ireland, under the ultra judicious Trapattoni, score you can get a whole euro off a pint!

Flabbergasting! It makes you wonder how they can still turn a profit...

Mark Eitzel

Gay Men
Sometimes you just have to drag yourself out the house. Last night it was cold and wet. I could happily have jumped into bed with David Sedaris. I almost did. But Mark Eitzel, another brilliantly mercurial gay man, was in Galway so I girded my loins and headed out to hear him play.

Drink Driving
I got in the car and drove to the show. Sadly, it's in the nature of driving that one can't drink. This made going out on this freezing night feel like even more of a chore. My mood brightened as a session recorded earlier that day with Eitzel came on the radio. It was a good omen.

Soft Drinks
One of my major bug bears about Irish pubs is the price of soft drinks. Not that I buy them very often but the notion of paying perhaps three euro for fresh orange and lemonade is outlandish. I went to the bar and ordered a pint of tap water. This just happens to be my favourite soft drink. The fact that it's free was only a bonus. I did feel guilty about ordering it though:

Conversation With Barman
"A pint of tap water please?", I asked the barman.
"Just to get started", I found myself adding".
I almost threw in "I'm very thirsty" but just restrained myself.

Audience Help
I've been to see Mark Eitzel a few times now. He comes over as a reluctant performer. You get the impression he'd rather be at home drinking. Last night was no different and at one point I thought he was going to simply walk off. Myself and some other audience members sensed the danger quickly though and gave him some positive heckling to boost his fragile ego. Another pint appeared from the bar and we got him over the hump. It ended up being, as always, a great show. The best yet.

Wise Wife
"See", my wife said to me when I got home, "you don't need drink to enjoy yourself". As usual she was right. Just, I won't make a habit of it.

Fallen Angels

I would like to recommend these excellent children's hair accessories from Debenhams. They're called "Fallen Angels" and my children ask for them by name.

The brand "Fallen Angels" is designed to manifest thoughts of cheeky, slightly bold but ultimately lovable little girls. For the avoidance of doubt, market research and extensive consumer studies have shown beyond all doubt that the name definately does NOT evoke any notions of previously adorable little girls plummeted into a life of alcohol fuelled whoring.

John Muhammad's Brain

Here is the brain of John Allen Muhammad, the Washington Sniper, shown on an MRI scan. I'm merely an amateur brain surgeon myself, but even I can see we have some significant damage here.

Muhammad murdered 13 people during the autumn of 2002 in a series of random shootings. Today, this mentally ill man will himself be murdered, by the American government, at a prison in Virginia.

Every American citizen, in whose name this act will be carried out, will also die a little in the process.

Speech Therapy

Another of my favourite albums of this year (following on from this) is by Speech Debelle aboard the heavily fancied Speech Therapy. I'm glad she won the Mercury.

Coincidentally this album contains a track Bad Boy with a lyric that should really be awful but actually, somehow, ends up being absolutely first-rate.

Cause he wants to be remembered like Tony Montana / But he's forgetting that he'll end up dead like Tony Montana

Rhyming "Tony Montana" with "Tony Montana" is, to this observer's way of thinking, a very good idea indeed.

(Automated) Flying System

Plans have been drawn up to next install an (automated) flying system in the Town Hall Theatre and to undertake a range of other (mostly unseen yet essential technical) upgrades, as funding becomes available.

This from a large sign at the front desk of the Town Hall Theatre in Galway. It witters on like this for about two metres and contains many, many parenthesised clarifications which serve merely to confuse an already befuddled reader.

It's difficult to say what it is they actually want but I think it's got something to do with money.

Ladder Survey

I stood by this ladder yesterday for an hour taking notes. Here's some bullet points :

• 143 people walked by me.
• 106 walked round the ladder.
• The remaining 37 walked under the ladder.
• Of that 37 only 9 walked under the ladder without external influence.

The external influence was me. I challenged 56 people to walk under the ladder and, Amazingly!, precisely half of them accepted the challenge with no care about Bad Luck.

There must be a book in this...

Going Forward

I love this example usage of 'going forward' from www.allwords.com.

going forward (adv)

1. In the future.

Going forward we plan to leverage our core competencies to gain market share

Just imagine the sort of person who'd never heard the term before. The kind of dullard who still said 'In the future'. Or just said nothing. Let the context sort it out. Can you imagine!

What if you were to try and teach that hopeless case how to speak properly. For the way we live today. While you were at it, you might as well teach them how to leverage their core competencies to gain market share.

Hot Water For Tea

Here's a futuristic looking picture of the coffee machine at work. Some of my fingers are reflected in it to prove that it's not trick photography. [1]

Featured is the "Hot Water For Tea" button. When you place a cup in the machine filled with instant soup, bovril, vegemite, cheese, crisps, air or indeed anything that isn't tea, and press the button it just looks at you mechanically and does nothing...

It's up to you at this stage. You can either walk away or put a tea-bag in the cup.

Either way, the machine wins.

[1] Yes, the jumper is lilac. What's wrong with that?

We're Cheaper

On the way home last night I found comfort from the most unlikely source. Tesco, that corporate behemoth of a soul-sucking vacuum, had a moment of Ryan Air inspired genius.

Tesco have brilliantly responded to that truly invidious Dunnes Store advert (previously featured here) where, in the absense of any meaningful differentiator, they breezily announce that "The difference is ... we're Irish" and appeal to the public's baser instincts.

Tesco's new advert simply ripostes "The Difference is ... we're cheaper" and, in one fell swoop, utterly exposes the Dunne's ad for the reprehensible, nationalistic bunkum that it is.

Tesco are appealing to a baser, but much more agreeable, human instinct.

Up

Took the kids to see Up at the weekend.

It was mostly a lovely thing. Beautifully made and with the usual action scenes shoehorned in for the hard of thinking market.

Why do they do this? I'm no moralist but I'd love to take my kids to a gentle, funny animated movie without all the fighting, shooting, near deaths and ear-drum reverberating racket. I freaks the kids out.

Why do they do this? They do it because these movies are not for kids. They're for their nitwit parents.

I couldn't find any legal pictures from Up, so I took this one myself.

Head and Shoulders

ADVERTISEMENT

The good people at Proctor and Gamble asked me to say a few words about their excellent Head And Shoulders shampoo product.

I tried the cool menthol ("for maximum refreshment") and it started working from the very first wash. With only medium term retina damage it left my hair not only dandruff free but beautifully manageable.