The rise of the LAD.

Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, 
It's with O'Leary in the grave
- W.B Yeats

He was a sagacious ol' soul was good ol' Billy Butler Yeats. He wrote that very line 100 years ago this year. He was cultured, he was curious and he was astute. He was everything that a LAD is not. He is the antithesis of everything LADs stand for. 

In fact, were Yeats to stroll down Grafton Street in February 2013 and were he to encounter a group of LADs, they'd more than likely deride his iconic spectacles than actually recognise him.

Ah, LADs. You may be wondering to whom I am referring to when I write LADs (You may also be wondering why I insist on typing LAD in all caps - well, you can't fully convey their overt pseudo-masuclinity with just "lad".). Am I writing about every heterosexual male? Nope. Every male under the age of 25? Nah. Every male who enjoys sports? Crumbs, no.

I am referring to the new type of adolescent male that exists today. I am talking about the default setting for so many males between 16 and 25 today. It is a new-ish strain of masculinity. It is brash, it is abrasive and Jesus Christ it is actually contagious. If you are a college student or someone who encounters students on a regular basis you should know what I mean when I type LAD.

Indeed, it ain't very difficult to spot a LAD. They're rarely quiet and they're rarely inconspicuous. They stay in herds too. LADs on their own are surprisingly manageable and even affable - it's when they're in their herd they feel the need to act lie absolute fucking imbeciles.

In case you have trouble recognising them (you shouldn't) here's a handy list of LAD characteristics (Or LADeristics, if you must) that you can cut out and keep so you know when you're in the vicinity of a LAD.

• They're the type of people who piss on your doorstep and knock over your bins for comic effect. 
• They're the type of people who start those incongruous chants inside and outside nightclubs. 
• They're the type of people who go to Santa Ponsa or Magaluf on holidays. I would rather consume my own feces before subjecting to myself to the horror of Magaluf/Santa Ponsa.
• They're the type of people who talk about having "BANTER" and have now shorten the term to "BANTS" as BANTER is just something that is so fundamental to their very existence. 
• They're the type of people who wear Hollister. It is a fucking LAD uniform. 
• They're type of people who, when asked what type of music they enjoy, reply "Anything, really" - "Anything, really" meaning a narrow selection of chart hits (Note - "Anything really" will be written as "Netin, reli" on LADs' Facebook pages).
• They're the type of people who LOVE Mumford & Sons and think that Ed Sheeran is lyrically deep.
• They're the type of people who become bona fide golfing experts whenever a Ryder Cup/US Masters is on but wouldn't know a sand wedge from sandwich every other day of the year.
• They're the type of people who think scarves are "gay" but wearing body warmers when playing football is perfectly within the realms of their pseudo-masculinity. 
• They're the type of people who think wearing a shirt is "fancy".
• They're the type of people who think climbing a couple of lampposts and taking their tops off is "MAYHEM" (I'm looking at you NUI Galway, you absolute plebs. I mean Jesus, I saw the title of that video and thought someone was going to be killed).
• They're the type of people who will tell you that chick-flicks and rom-coms are "gay as fuck" and in the same conversation will unironically profess their love for Home and Away. 
• They're the type of people who just LOVE the Fast & Furious film series. 
• They're the type of people who actually enjoy nightclubs.
• They're the type of people who had blonde highlights in their hair when they were 12, the "V" haircut when they were 14 and a mullet when they were 16. LADs are just evolved chavs after all.
• They're the type of people who take time off work/college/school during Cheltenham so they can go fritter their money away on racing beef burgers and lament their monetary losses in a very manly tone the following day.
• They're the type of people who discovered memes 8 months ago and now find the derogatory replies "Cool story, bro" and "Still a better love story than Twilight" absolutely fucking hilarious. 
• They're the type of people who pretend to know about farming.
• They're the type of people who have made facebook "creeping" an art.
• They're the type of people who love/pretend to love cars.
• They're the type of people who live for RAG week.
• They're the type of people who have just discovered Breaking Bad in the last 8 months and insist on informing you of how "unreal" it is.
• They're the type of people who can express contempt for the British Empire and the Irish language in the same breath, without a hint of irony. 

The LAD culture isn't exactly castigated or censured. Its largely embraced. Such is the sheer volume of LADs that it is difficult to start a movement against them. They have even infiltrated the corridors of power in Ireland (Leo Varadker - huge LAD). Their rise must be admired, in some ways. 

They have a mouthpiece too - a mouthpiece on social media, anyway. UniLad and The Lad Bible (You may be familiar with both) are websites but more popularly Facebook pages which celebrate LAD culture in its most visceral form. They are to LADs what the Little Red Book is to Maoists. Both supply a heady cocktail of bad jokes, overused memes and latent misogyny. 

It's difficult to define what the LAD movement really is though. Is it some post-modern counter-reaction to feminism? Is it the last roar of conventional masculinity? Or has it always existed and will always exist just now, since the advent of the internet, it is much more visible and much, much more annoying? I don't know. I'm tempted to go with the third option as I ain't one for blind nostalgia and would like to think this whole LAD thing isn't a generational problem. It also should be noted that the LAD movement is in no way exclusive to Ireland. UniLad and The Lad Bible are both British creations and their problems with LADs are just as grave as ours. 

By the age of about 25, LADs seem to settle down. Their idiocy is only passing but it leaves its mark. They become well-liked members of society after this and their contribution is valued. A handful fall through the net - which is a real shame as there is nothing worse than a LAD in his 30s - but it's a small enough portion to manage. 

So, LADs. Can't live with them. Can't live withou- Oh, no. I just can't live with them.

*For the purpose of this blog I have consciously adopted a very condescending tone. Please, it is not sincere. It is a "joke" if you must. I am typing this disclaimer so I do not receive incandescently angry hate-mail calling me a snob.

Why do Irish people have such a hard-on for Barack Obama?

One from Mayo. One from Chicago. Neither a hurling stronghold.

11 days to go until America decides who they want as their president/commander-in-chief/puppet for the corporations for the next four years and Barack Obama must be brickin' it.

He's up against a man (Mitt Romney is his name for the plebs among us) who is 50% grease and 50% pure evil and yet still Barry is lagging behind in most polls. Well, lagging behind suggest it's a big gap, it ain't. Yesterday's Gallup Poll shows Romney with 50% of the popular vote and Barry with 47%. 

Hardly a gargantuan lead and some other polls suggest Obama has his nose in front but it's still enough for Barry to be cuddling up to Michelle at night seeking some loving reassurance that it will be him sending thousands of  Afghans and Al-Qaeda insurgents to their deaths for the next four years and not that indignant mormon fool.

But were this presidential race taking place on the fair isle on which I am typing this piece, Ireland of course, Barry would cruise to victory. No, cruise is the wrong verb, he'd waltz, no that's not it, he'd PUMMEL his way to victory. Yeah, that's it. And this is not mere hyperbole from I, this is scientific fact. A poll commissioned by the Irish Times last week showed a whopping 79% of us Irish would re-elect Barry, while a paltry 5% would vote for Shit Mitt and 16% couldn't be arsed having an opinion (God bless that 16%).

So. Why the hell do we like this man so much?

Well for a while everyone, of every creed, race and nationality loved Barack Obama. He was 2008's Katie Taylor. Adored. Deified. He could not put a foot wrong, remember, this is a man who won a Nobel Peace Prize for doing nothing. Nada. I put as much work into winning that Nobel Peace Prize for Barry as he did. I'll admit, I loved the man but hey, I was 15. I have an excuse. You older people are gullible fools

But while most countries have moved on from this extreme adoration (They burn effigies of him in the Middle East), us Irish still retain it. We still cling to, as Sarah Palin so succinctly put it, the "hopey, changey stuff" he came out with way back when. 

While Mitt Romney is perceived as a filthy rich, malignant, poor-hatin' scumbag (And that he is) by us Irish, I have genuinely seen comments from Irish people on the internet state that Obama is an "All-round nice guy", a "a sound lad" and about 30,000 comments by disgruntled Irish folk saying "He'd do a much better job than the useless bastards/idiots/cunts/other-pejorative-noun we have in the Dáil" or something to that tune (They could be right, but my labrador would do a better job than the useless idiots in Dáil Éireann).

The reason we harbour this undying love for him is complicated and probably multivalent. A lot of it has to do with his Irish "roots" (I'm using inverted commas because, come on, he's as Irish as a Komodo Dragon) and his visit to Ireland last year, which though lasted less than 12 hours, left an indelible mark. Many Irish were swayed by his poise and charm, many more found the story about his great-great-great-grandfather fascinating, and many more were looking for a catchy soundbite to improve their recession-bashed spirts and they got just that with "Is Féidir Linn". 20 months on and there's still tits driving around with those blasted bumper stickers.

Another reason may be a lot more deep-rooted. Democrats are naturally popular in Ireland. The two most loved US President by the Irish, besides Barry, are without question JFK and Bill Clinton. Two democrats. Both with Irish roots. Clinton is loved, in no small part, due to the role he played in the peace process up North, while JFK is adored because A) He visited us B) He upheld the most Irish of traditions - namely, cheating on your wife and consuming large quantities of alcohol. He was, if you pardon the horrible slang, the only Lad president. 

But the democrat, thing, I'm going to run with that for a while. You see every Republican President in the last 50 years has had some form of Irish roots. The Bushes did, Reagan did and Nixon did. Nixon and Reagan even visited Ireland. Reagan is an Irish surname for Christ's sake. But how many Irish do you hear singing songs of praise about good ol' Ronnie or loveable Ricky? There was a song written about Barack Obama being Irish ("There's no one as Irish as Barack O'Bama"). Countless documentaries have been made about JFK and his Irish visit. Nixon and Reagan don't even warrant an image on the Irish-American wikipedia page.

The Democrats being so popular in Ireland is, like most things, complicated. It probably has something to do with the Democrats being the party for the immigrants and the fact that they produce more interesting and less evil presidents.

It's a a recondite matter. Obama's popularity in the Emerald Isle does not look like waning and why should it? He's got history and propaganda on his side. If Obama does get re-elected, and I think he will, then he'll want to be making a second state trip to this small island so he can sample our Guinness, play with our hurls, sweet-talk our people again and thank us for liking him while half of his native country thinks he's a communist muslim. If he does that we might even carve a Mt.Barackmore on the Cliffs Of Moher for him.

A bearded student is a foolish student.

"Four score and seven years ago... I couldn't grow a beard as lethal as this but look at me now"

Puberty is a troubling time for young men. Our sexual organs become, well, sexual, our once clean, pristine armpits become infested with husky hair, our voice deepens and we begin the long, shallow yet undeniably enjoyable road of objectification of women. 

Nah, I'm messing with you, it's rather brilliant. Much more so than female puberty; that seems a more messy and bloody affair. 

We also begin to grow hairs on our face. We are instructed to remove these hairs at once. Shaving becomes a fortnightly custom by time you hit around 14 (Weekly if you're a bit too eager/insane). But as we begin to creep towards the winter of our teen years we decide, in a bid to highlight our overt sense of masculinity, to forgo the shaving of the hairs and to let the hairs grow in their own natural formation. We try to grow a beard.

Every young, eager fellow has tried it. The manliest of the manly men on television and in films have/had beards. Clint Eastwood. Brad Pitt. George Clooney. And they wear it like a glove. It suits them like the batsuit suits Bruce Wayne. Trouble is, (most) adolescent males don't have the bone structure, jawline, beard growing ability or beard grooming techniques that these men possess. In short, the beards young, idyllic males attempt to grow end up resembling the follicles one might find in an anus, i.e. bum fluff.

Ah bum fluff. The perfect disparaging remark to instantly denigrate a shit beard. It's perfect because it's so very true. It's very, very rare that a young man's beard does not resemble bum fluff. Our hairs have not yet had time to discover their proper formation, our skin far too supple and unblemished, our standards of personal grooming far too lax. An ideal environment for the aforementioned bum fluff to foster. 

And yet young men persist. Venture through any college campus in the country, nay, the world, and you'll find a plethora of starry-eyed, facial hair aficionados and a gaggle of awe-inspired disciples worshipping their shitty face-bristles. It's a status symbol. He who can grow the best beard is the manliest; it's on par with being able to consume large quantities of alcohol or being good at poker. But how students judge the standard of beard is warped; they simply laud he who can grow the messiest, thickest, frizziest beard. 

A female opinion should be sought on this matter. Since I am alone and horrifically single I do not have one at this moment in time but I'd bet my bottom dollar that most of the fairer sex would prefer a clean-shaven beau. Until we reach 25. When we can actually grow proper beards. Then you should grow that shit like it's cannabis in a greenhouse because there is nothing sexier than a man in his late 20s to early 30s with a smashing beard. 

Now I am no Gilette salesman here to discuss their new patented 900-blade system with its lasers and bullets and what have you, it's just shaving is a necessary evil to curb the greater evil that is shit, bum fluff beards. Until they reach 25 I hope the rest of my male compatriots shall subsist from growing a beard of any kind. Stubble is perfectly fine and my rule on beards only applies for 11 months of the year; Movember is high time for beard growing as it's for a good cause of course. 

And any man, no matter what age, foolish, nay I say, evil enough to attempt to grow a moustache should be banished from the realm. A man in a moustache is a man not to be trusted - Hitler, Stalin and Marty Whelan perfectly illustrate this point.

My view for a new Ireland: We cut off half of it.

We have heard a lot of talk since the recession began regarding what is the best course of action to take to wrestle Ireland out of the financial and indeed moral quagmire in which it finds itself. Cuts, tax hikes, pension levies have all been tried and tested. All have failed. Many international and domestic economists, financial experts and political analysts have been quizzed on what is the most viable route forward. 

But it seems no one has cared to ask what a 19 year old student who dabbles in nihilism, is a keen observer of human behaviour and dresses wonderfully what he thinks. Until now. When I ask myself - What is my vision for a new, better Ireland?

Simple. We get rid of the shit counties. 

Counties evicted and why


Roscommon
Any county that roughly resembles a phallus should not be part of this great isle. Roscommon is phallic in appearance and phallic in nature. A truly disgusting county. It smells like Shredded Wheat that has been urinated upon, so I'm told (I've never ventured beyond its murky borders but I have it on good authority).


Offaly
What is Offaly known for? Bogs, being the birthplace of our bumbling former Taoiseach, maybe not the man who caused the recession but certainly a man who drank his way through the vast majority of it (at our expense), Brian Cowan and robbing Kerry of an historic 5-in-a-row All-Irelands in 1982 with a last minute winner courtesy of Seamus Darby who blatantly and quite viciously pushed Kerry full-back Tommy Doyle in the back before launching his ball goalwards. A dreadful county, its inhabitants shall be banished to the underworld and any wealth accrued from the destruction of the county shall be awarded as compensation to the people of Kerry.

Carlow
An utterly pointless county. There is no question that this geographical wart must be expelled from the realm.

Mayo
Mayo is not a bad county. Nor is it a pointless county. The reason it is being demolished however is it is the county which spawned the devilchild we know call der fuhrer, Enda Kenny. And for that it must be punished. Any Mayoman or woman who did not vote for Fine Gael shall be granted entrance to Galway on the condition that they extinguish that frankly ridiculous accent from their tongues. The Hardy Bucks shall be granted a palace in the hills of Meath. 

Longford
See Carlow.

Sligo
Not sure why I have decided to delete Sligo from existence. Think I'm going a bit power hungry. Their claims that Sligo is a city are baffling and unfounded. This is reason enough. 

Leitrim
Expulsion from Ireland and destruction of their county shall be a sweet escape for the people of Leitrim. For years it has been the butt of everyone's jokes, most notably Dustin the turkey, and the only reason that it is given even a shred of acknowledgement is that it is Ireland's least populated county. And you don't become Ireland's least populated county without reason. A putrid shithole.

Westmeath
A county that has spawned One Direction's be-quiffed and profusely annoying Niall Horan and possibly the most obnoxious arsehole on Irish TV at the moment, Bressie, does not deserve existence. We have one Meath already. The western half of Meath can act as Westmeath if we begin to miss the county. Though that is highly unlikely.

All of Ulster 
Who needs an accent that sounds like a Scottish person being entered anally by both of the Klitschko brothers at the same time? No one. The North have been nothing but trouble ever since the English uprooted the natives and replaced them with troublemaking protestants. We'd have no more Orange parades, no more rebel songs (no one down South sings them any more), no more violence and no more shit accents. And no more Donegal with their strange football and even stranger eyebrows (Just look at Jim McGuinness'). 

How we would undertake the geographical divorce
A massive cutting machine, in the shape of a crane, shall be constructed by Liebherr Cranes in Killarney, Co.Kerry which will go about removing the deleted part of the country. As soon as it is out at sea it will be compressed downwards. We shall do this by employing Mary Harney. She is currently out of work and she has to earn that big, fat pension. She will jump up and down on the floating isle a few times which should generate enough pressure for it to plunge to the bottom of Davy Jones' Locker. 

This lost land shall be marketed as The Green Atlantis and my forecasts show that the revenue garnered from tourists interested in visiting it will not exceed the billions of euro, but exceed trillions. This will end the recession.

You're welcome. 

10 songs that remind me of the Celtic Tiger.

Ah, the Celtic Tiger. Remember her? The Beatles once sang "She Came Through The Bathroom Window". So did the Celtic Tiger. It bundled its way unexpectedly through our collective (metaphorical) bathroom window, performed wild fellatio on us, Ireland, finished before we could wipe down our trousers, plundered our money cabinet and made her way back out the same window it had arrived in. And now here we are, dazed and confused, slumped up against a bath with our trousers down at our ankles, unable to move, hoping that she'll return. Or something like that. Anyway, nostalgia ahoy mateys for these are 10 songs that remind me of the Celtic Tiger.

In no particular order..

1. Crazy World - Aslan

This song was actually released in 1993 but it took on a whole new meaning during the Celtic Tiger era. It was symbolic of our new attitude, our broadening horizons, our blissful inexperience with affluence (It was a Crazy new world for us) and of course, our love of an acoustic guitar being strummed really fucking quickly. Listening to this song reminds me of sunny days out in Dingle with a deep-fried Mars bar in one hand and a copy of the Indo in the other. Reading about the soaring price of property in Dublin, probably.

2. Galway Girl - Mundy

This should probably be our national anthem. Not because I'm particularly enamoured by it (It's a great song but I've heard it too many times) but because it's the only song that EVERYONE in Ireland knows every last syllable to. If I asked you what came after Sinne Fianna Fáil in Ammhráin Na bhFiann, I bet half of you would struggle, but if I said what comes after And I ask you friend, what's a feller to do? ye'd be as quick as Richard Boyd-Barrett telling Enda Kenny he's a gobshite on a cold, brisk morning in the Dáil with a response.

3. Jumbo Breakfast Roll - Pat Shortt

A strange thing happened during the Celtic Tiger. Some people in Ireland, thanks to the increasing American influence on Irish popular culture and the transformation of the country from rural, priest-infested backwater to gaudy, pompous cosmopolitan hub, began to doubt whether we really were Irish any more. This diffidence manifested itself in different ways; people in South Dublin began bestowing Gaelic names like Fionán, Setanta and Cú Chulainn upon their children, the GAA saw a massive increase in popularity and revenue, alcohol consumption reached an all time high. We basically loved anything that was a bit traditional Irish, a bit bucolic, a bit Gaelic. That's where Pat Shortt came in. His comedy harked back to a time of Macaroon bars and Gay Byrne. And that's why Jumbo Breakfast Roll was so popular. That and the fact that we're all fat bastards.

4. Here Come The Good Times - Christy Dignam, Dave Couse, Nicky from Westlife, Dustin and a few more.

Yes children, there was once a time when Ireland went to international tournaments and didn't get the absolute hoop beaten off us. This was an absolute gem of a track leading up the 2002 World Cup. Musically, it's fine, but as a World Cup song it excels as it melded wonderfully simplistic lyrics with a cheery, beery chorus that even the most inebriated of Irish fans could sing along to with ease. Indeed, one of the highlights of the Celtic Tiger, for me anyway, was Robbie Keane's glorious, last minute equaliser against Ze Germans. And that celebration, of course. The song also ironically features the lyrics With Keane to lead us, we have nothing to fear.... Except a crap pitch in Saipan and a man from Barnsley.

5. One Horse Town - The Thrills

I don't know how many times I heard this song being played on 2fm on the way to school. Too many, yet still, not enough. This was a great song that was not killed by overplay, such was its excellence. Released in 2003, this song became the soundtrack to that particular summer. Not because it had some deep, figurative meaning behind it or anything like that, just because it's a bloody good song. It's a song to wake you up in the morning such is the urgency and vigour of its intro. It reminds me of shows on RTE 1 about redeveloping your home. I don't know why, it just does.


6. We've Got The World Tonight - Mickey Harte






There once was a time when we took the Eurovision seriously. We had a big talent show to decide who would go and the song that was sung would be written by someone important and renowned like Phil Coulter or Bryan McFadden. Contrary to popular belief, the Eurovision was still shite even when we did take it seriously. Our most prominent effort came from a Donegal man who won the first series of You're a Star. I remember thinking We've Got The World Tonight was the best song in the world when it was released. The majority of the Irish public agreed with me as it shot to No.1 in the charts and was the best selling song of 2003. In hindsight, I was a foolish young chap. My abiding memory of Mickey Joe Harte is being urged not to  vote for him in the You're A Star final  in the school playground with the charming adage "We love Simon, Mickey go fart." Simon was the other contestant in case you've forgotten.


7. The Langer Song - Tim O'Riordan Natural Gas





The second joke song on the list*, after the Jumbo Breakfast Roll of course, is unsurprising really. The mid-noughties were a ripe time for songs of a facetious nature; the popularity of Gift Grub reached its peak, Jumbo Breakfast Roll was released, in England you had the JCB Song and the Cheeky Girls and in 2004, the Langer Song was released. It's my personal favourite. By far the wittiest, by far the funniest and it even imported a new phrase into the Irish lexicon. The song's standing in Cork is akin to the standing of The Banks of My Own Lovely Lee and it led to a resurgence in a Cork brand of patriotism. Cork people can be patriotic as, of course, Cork is a different nation to Ireland. Reminds me of the Summer of 2004. A good summer. Kerry won the All-Ireland. Sound for spurring us on, ye langers.


*Well music is an abstract concept and as such entirely subjective so to someone else The Langer Song is a piece of music comparable to the majesty of Vivaldi's Four Seasons while something like We've Got The World Tonight is a joke song. It's up to you.


8. Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova






The newest song on this list, released in 2007, it just about made it in as, as you are of course are aware, things went tits up economically speaking relatively shortly after this song was released. But anyhoo, it makes it onto the list as it was probably the most celebrated of all the folk-y, acoustic-y tunes that were released during the Celtic Tiger years. And there were a lot. Between Damien Rice, Damien Dempsey, The Frames, Mick Flannery and scores more, we were spoiled for choice when it came to folk-y, acoustic-y music. And this song won an oscar as well. And it's really, really good. Reminds me of Grafton Street on an overcast, July afternoon in 2007.


9. Rocky Took A Lover - Bell X1 






If I were to make a montage of clips that I felt best summed up the Celtic Tiger era, I'd probably use Rocky Took A Lover as the soundtrack. It's so evocative. Like One Horse Town, it's a morning song. An early riser. It's got that great electric intro and the imposing drumbeat accompanying it. It reminds me of Jones' Road near Croke Park on matchday on a warm summer's day in 2006.


10. True Friends - Jerry Fish & the Mudbug Club


If there was any song that best typified the attitude and the atmosphere of Celtic Tiger Ireland, this was it. So carefree, so relaxing, so fun; a lot like the Celtic Tiger. This song rose to prominence in 2002 thanks to some phone ad but it's so much more than that. It's the song of the Celtic Tiger. We were so foolish, so naive, so unaware of the shitstorm that was awaiting us after the party finished. It reminds me of a sunny day in Killarney.

Enda Kenny sings 'Primadonna' by Marina & the Diamonds.

 

This is a new version of the song 'Primadonna' by Marina & the Diamond sung by our Taoiseach, our divine leader, our sagacious sage, our spiritual guide, Der Führer, Enda Kenny. He may or may not have helped me write this.

Fine Gael chief, yeahAll I ever wanted was the DáilI'm not here for the long haulThe Fine Gael life, the rise and fallYou say Ireland's going to defaultBut I say it's Fianna Fáil's faultCan't wait for a second bailout, babeYou can count on me to make you pay
Fine Gael chief!
Would you do anything for me?Pay your household charge for me?Even vote for austerity?Forget the Lisbon Treaty right now, babyGerry Adams on the TV screenTalking shite 'bout my policiesThe poor think he's a real heroThey don't have a clue about the IMF deal though 
The five point plan? Ignore, nore, nore!I really hate Gilmore, more, moreI fuck the poor like they're whore, whore, whoresI am the Mayo lord!
And I'm the Fine Gael chief, yeahAll I ever wanted was the DáilI'm not here for the long haulThe Fine Gael life, the rise and fallYou say Ireland's going to defaultBut I say it's Fianna Fáil's faultCan't wait for a second bailout, babeYou can count on me to make you pay
Fine Gael chief!
Fill the planes up with the unemployed Fuckin' bitches with the Anglo boysGet what they want coz they asked for itNot because they're really that deserving of itLoving Merkel like a heifer loves hayIn the EU we've got to stayThey say our Corporate Tax is too lowI really don't know why that's such a big deal though

Going down, mostly down, down, downLabour are only clown, clown, clownsBy the IMF deal we are bound, bound, boundI miss Sarkozy, he was sound
And I'm the Fine Gael chief, yeahAll I ever wanted was the DáilI'm here for the long haulThe Fine Gael life, the rise and fallYou say Ireland's going to defaultBut I say it's Fianna Fáil's faultCan't wait for a second bailout, babeYou can count on me to make you pay

Use this video to help you sing along 

Ireland and Jedward: A strange kind of relationship.

In the words of Russell Brand, "Do any of you have a friend that, y'know, you fucking hate?" Indeed, I feel this quote best sums up Ireland's strange relationship with Jedward. We spawned them, our society moulded them, we are indirectly responsible for their actions. 


So we feel a burden of obligation, an obligation to protect them and reassure them. But we don't exactly like them. We tolerate them. If you can imagine the entire nation of Ireland as a moody, teenage girl and Jedward as a hyper-active, boisterous, overly-genial younger brother, then you can perhaps visualise the aberrant relationship we have with the blonde-quiffed boyos from Lucan. We don't really like 'em, and we'll knock 'em but anyone who's not one of us who lays even a mere finger on their delicate, well polished and unblemished heads will have hell to pay.


A lot of the ambivalence surrounding our strange relationship with Jedward stems from our suspicion of them. Our distrust of their characters. For starters, we don't really know what they are. They're not Irish. Well not traditional, pale-skinned, Guinness-drinking, Daniel O'Donnell-listening Irish. No,they're far too happy and flamboyant for that to be the case. But are they new Irish? Are they a product of Celtic Tiger Ireland with their happy-go-lucky nature, American(ish) accents and incessant use of the term "Oh my god"? Maybe. Their overly convivial public performances have left many to question whether their demeanour is exaggerated or even put on. 


"It's all for the money!" is commonly claimed by Irish folk when assessing Jedward's overzealous behaviour. I would be inclined to agree. I'm sure Jedward are quite excitable chaps with a proclivity for weirdness and  hyperactivity but come here, take a peek at their X Factor audition. They weren't exactly subdued but they weren't half as ostensibly mental as they are now. 


Would I blame them though? No, not really. They know their market and they/their management are savvy enough to pander to the needs and wants of that market (Teenage girls is that market in case you're wondering. And maybe paedophiles too.). In fact, their contrived acts of eccentricity have actually gained them respect from the ordinary folk of Ireland as many of them see Jedward as shrewd and wise to exploit themselves for monetary gain. The Lucan twins are worth £2m. Who wouldn't act like an eejit for £2m? 


We do feel a sense of responsibility for them too though. The big sister-little brother syndrome I alluded to earlier is a rather apt analogy. I can relate to it on a personal level. 


Let me take you way back to November 2009 when Jedward first impinged on the public's collective consciousness with their 'performances' on the X Factor. I loathed them. They annoyed me, they couldn't sing, they couldn't dance and I just didn't get them. I wanted them out. They had glided seamlessly through the first few weeks of live shows and it was difficult to see their popularity waning. 


Then, around week 5 I believe, the buck was up. They were plonked into the bottom two along with the obviously more talented Lucie Jones from Wales. "This is it", I grinned to myself "It's down to the judges, no way Cowell and co. will save them." When it was crunch-time and the judges were about to make their decisions, I felt a strange sense of emptiness. It was like, this is really it. They're gone forever (Back then, nobody could foresee their popularity lasting for more than a few months). I wanted them to stay. They say you don't miss a good thing 'til it's gone and boy that's how it felt. And then Cowell opted to put their fate in the hands of the public vote. I was flabbergasted. Cowell seemed to hate them(In hindsight, he may have hated them but he fucking adored the amount of attention they garnered). I was flabbergasted but I was jubilant. I knew they'd win the public vote. And win they did.


From then on in the competition my sense of responsibility and caring towards them merely grew. Each week the chorus off boos which greeted their arrival on stage grew and this merely strengthened the hold they had on me. I felt protective of my compatriots. When they were eventually knocked out I felt proud of them and happy that they had had their fifteen minutes of fame. "They can go back to Lucan now and regale their pals with juicy stories about Chezza and Dannii and celebs they've met whilst casually slipping back into anonymity." Except that's not exactly how it worked out. Their fame never waned. Neither did the public's puzzling infatuation with them. And so they began to irritate me once again. And so I began, like much of the Irish population, to scald them and mock them once again....


But that lingering feeling of ownership, that teensy weensy sense of responsibility never wavered either. A lot of the Irish public see Jedward as freaks but in true family-like fashion, we see them as our freaks. Why else would we send them to the Eurovision twice, eh?