Christmas time, airport chaos and crime..

                                         Elasticated pants..the way forward...


Well guys and gals it's that time again...the alter ego is out in force and our dreams of a white Christmas have swiftly deteriorated into our worst nightmares...

So here's a few hints, tips and observations of my bygone Decembers...

1. reconsider your thoughts of wearing those skinny jeans that you have to do lunges in an attempt to stretch on Christmas day. Not only will you feel rather depressed when they feel tighter than last time, you don't want your button poppin off and pingin gramps between the eyes. think Joey's thanksgiving pants instead.

2. no matter how old or mature you feel (my granny used to chuckle away at 'Baby's day out)', you still maintain that secret love of the films that crop up around Christmas. I'm talking quality such as george of the jungle, all the home alones, chicken run...etc etc.

3. Celine does the best version of O Holy Night. Fact.

4. You gotta love a good old beltin out of the carols at Church on Christmas mornin...

5. shops and christmas shopping turn perfectly sane individuals into crazed psychopathic maniacs who will stop at nothing to get what they want. trust no-one. if there is only one sled left, 80-year old Mavis from next door will undoubtedly come careering round the corner in her mobility scooter, hook the sled with her litter picker, and speed off in the distance leaving a wake of dust and despairing children behind her.

6. thank the lord for the invention of dishwashers.

7. New Year's is often an incredible anti-climax. if you think you're pissed when you get to your destination, you will soon sober up in the 45 minute wait at the bar. when you finally get served, you feel no shame in buying three drinks for each hand (i have seen it done), drinking much faster than usual as you realise you cant be bothered holding them any more, and end up waking up on the floor to be told its next year and they're closing up. Happy New Year.

8. As you get older you find less and less presents for you under the tree.

9. always have your shoes off. If you don't you will be the first asked to bring in sticks or coal.

10. if your shoes are on, pretend you are sleeping as the fire begins to die.

11. you are never too old to slide down a snow-covered hill.

12. If you own a pet less than 12 inches tall, keep it on a lead cos when it steps outside you will lose it. Especially if it's white.

13. If you're scraping the snow off your car, don't leave your door open and keys in the ignition. some little shit might possibly steal you ve-hicle. Disusting, but it's happened.

13. Santa is real. He's keepin a list, checking it twice. and he already knows who's naughty or nice.

 I can't wait for my pressies ;-)

Merry Christmas bitches and hos, make sure you get ur swag on and whip ur hair back an forth this festive period. How hip am I...

Reality bites...

it's that time again, the shops are busy, everyone is in a rush. students are stressed about exams and assignments, parents worried about meeting their kids needs and wants on Christmas day (Santa is still real, i said nothing). The budget has hit the helpless hard, and as we approach the end of the year, it seems as though some aren't feeling the festive cheer.

I'm not writing her to say everything is rosy. Cos let's face it, it's really not. But every so often something happends in your life that makes you take a step back and take a severe reality check. How fickle of us to moan about being 'broke' when those on the street can't afford a bed for the night. We say we're wrecked after work and we're underpaid, when thousands would give their right arm for a job right now. we complain about having so much on, not being able to fit everything in. But at least we are alive, fit and healthy to try.

winter is a harsh season, and can bring even the best of us down (i had a runny nose last week, ran out of berroca). for the elderly, it is especially difficult. death is a sobering thought, and only when it happens to someone you are close do you realise how lucky you really are. So many this christmas are without someone they love. so many will spend christmas in hospital, fighting a battle they might not win.

People talk about the real meaning of Christmas. Whether you're religious or not, family is one of the real meanings of Christmas. So the next time you complain about being under the weather, flat out at work, unable to afford the latest version of the i-phone, but then head for drinks with freinds or home to your warm cosy place with your family, take a step back. Be thankful for everything you have. Ring your mum and have a chat. Enjoy every minute of your time with those you love most.

Because it's true. You don't know what you have until it's gone.

No be a good nieghbour and go visit Mavis next door. She'd love a cuppa.

Still cool in the heat...?

As I sit wrapped in a fleece (literally and metaphorically) of austerity, it appears as though the future of the Irish population is about as bleak as the Irish weather. The budget may have come and gone but its legacy will long live in the young lives of those it affects worst.  At the height of the “Celtic Tiger” Ireland experienced the largest population growth of any country in the EU. Oh, how times have changed. Some 65,000 people left last year, the highest rate since 1989. The Irish Union of Students estimates that 150,000 young people will up sticks and scarper in the next 5 years.

As we enter the Christmas period, many would say ‘tis not the season to be jolly. Whilst some of us dread the visiting mother-in-law, others inevitably rue the decision to get pissed at their Christmas work party, photocopy their arse (just like last year) and throw some cheesy one-liners at the boss in a fickle attempt to get a pay rise. We’re all broke. We plod through snow and ice, get a little ahead of ourselves, think we’ve made it to the comfortable safety of the indoors...then slap, bang, we’re lying on the ground, bewildered and confused. We either pray no-one has seen, or that someone will help. Usually it’s neither. In fact it’s probably been videos and in 5 minutes will be posted on Facebook.

In light of this, there is no doubt that many are green with envy when someone they know updates their Facebook status. “35 degrees and lying on the beach sipping cocktails...bliss!” Nice for some. However, for those thousands of disgruntled Irish who will migrate to warmer climates, it could soon be nice for many. For those who have already migrated to a warm country, Christmas conditions could not be further from the depths of snowy Dublin. Do they long to return to their traditions of Christmas past, or are the soaring temperatures and beautiful beaches just an added luxury to the holiday season? Do chestnuts roast, or just the people?

Ian Mckeown (28) is a native of Belfast. He moved to Canberra two years ago to do a PhD in strength and conditioning, with a view of finding a job there upon completion. (NB At the risk of toning down the extent of his ill-feeling towards Christmas in a hot country, many expletives have been removed.) “It’s not Christmas here, not like how I know it. They play Slade and the usual festive numbers, but it seems ironic when you hear Bing Crosby croon ‘Let it snow’ when it’s 38 degrees outside. It’s all a bit artificial really.”

Whilst many traditions remain (they have the same Santa, send cards and over-indulge on turkey and ham), Ian ponders wistfully on life’s little pleasures. “They don’t have Mark’s and Spencer’s Christmas treats. And of course, Christmas is all about tradition. Spending time with the family. I miss that the most.”

Someone who agrees with Ian is 35 year-old Emma Clarke, who moved to Sydney last year with her husband and two children. “This will be our second Christmas in Australia. Last year was difficult for us, being away from our parents and extended family. But there is no doubt being with my husband and watching our kid’s faces light up on Christmas morning is a feeling that remains no matter where you live. Christmas is all about family, isn’t it? We may not have the snow, but at least we have each other.”

It appears as though Christmas is only Christmas if the family is around, regardless of location. Sure, a bit of snow wouldn’t go amiss, but is it really all that important? If tradition means family, and your loved ones are afar, Brian Lenihan has done you a favour this year. Airport tax is cut from €10 to €3. It’s never been easier to emigrate.

Still cool in the heat...?

(quite a lot of fictional quotes, but hey gotta be done)

As I sit wrapped in a fleece (literally and metaphorically) of austerity, it appears as though the future of the Irish population is about as bleak as the Irish weather. The budget may have come and gone but its legacy will long live in the young lives of those it affects worst.  At the height of the “Celtic Tiger” Ireland experienced the largest population growth of any country in the EU. Oh, how times have changed. Some 65,000 people left last year, the highest rate since 1989. The Irish Union of Students estimates that 150,000 young people will up sticks and scarper in the next 5 years.

As we enter the Christmas period, many would say ‘tis not the season to be jolly. Whilst some of us dread the visiting mother-in-law, others inevitably rue the decision to get pissed at their Christmas work party, photocopy their arse (just like last year) and throw some cheesy one-liners at the boss in a fickle attempt to get a pay rise. We’re all broke. We plod through snow and ice, get a little ahead of ourselves, think we’ve made it to the comfortable safety of the indoors...then slap, bang, we’re lying on the ground, bewildered and confused. We either pray no-one has seen, or that someone will help. Usually it’s neither. In fact it’s probably been videos and in 5 minutes will be posted on Facebook.

In light of this, there is no doubt that many are green with envy when someone they know updates their Facebook status. “35 degrees and lying on the beach sipping cocktails...bliss!” Nice for some. However, for those thousands of disgruntled Irish who will migrate to warmer climates, it could soon be nice for many. For those who have already migrated to a warm country, Christmas conditions could not be further from the depths of snowy Dublin. Do they long to return to their traditions of Christmas past, or are the soaring temperatures and beautiful beaches just an added luxury to the holiday season? Do chestnuts roast, or just the people?

Ian Mckeown (28) is a native of Belfast. He moved to Canberra two years ago to do a PhD in strength and conditioning, with a view of finding a job there upon completion. (NB At the risk of toning down the extent of his ill-feeling towards Christmas in a hot country, many expletives have been removed.) “It’s not Christmas here, not like how I know it. They play Slade and the usual festive numbers, but it seems ironic when you hear Bing Crosby croon ‘Let it snow’ when it’s 38 degrees outside. It’s all a bit artificial really.”

Whilst many traditions remain (they have the same Santa, send cards and over-indulge on turkey and ham), Ian ponders wistfully on life’s little pleasures. “They don’t have Mark’s and Spencer’s Christmas treats. And of course, Christmas is all about tradition. Spending time with the family. I miss that the most.”

Someone who agrees with Ian is 35 year-old Emma Clarke, who moved to Sydney last year with her husband and two children. “This will be our second Christmas in Australia. Last year was difficult for us, being away from our parents and extended family. But there is no doubt being with my husband and watching our kid’s faces light up on Christmas morning is a feeling that remains no matter where you live. Christmas is all about family, isn’t it? We may not have the snow, but at least we have each other.”

It appears as though Christmas is only Christmas if the family is around, regardless of location. Sure, a bit of snow wouldn’t go amiss, but is it really all that important? If tradition means family, and your loved ones are afar, Brian Lenihan has done you a favour this year. Airport tax is cut from €10 to €3. It’s never been easier to emigrate.

How long's a piece of string?

In a recent interview in the Daily Mail, Chelsea's John Terry talked cadidly about his commitment to the cause.

‘I still say if the ball is there to be won I will go for it, whether with my head or whatever, and if it means us scoring or stopping a goal, I won’t think twice.'

He continued, however, by saying he'd rather play with his kids in the garden than spend his life counting his medals in a wheelchair.

Asked the last time he played fully fit. 'Five years ago, maybe more.'

Mate. You're 29. You earn £150,000 a week, whether you play 90 minutes, ten minutes, or spend your day in the corporate box wining and dining with the family and Roman. That's nearly £900 per hour. So your injured. Whoop-de-feckin-doo. It's time you got yourself down to Stamford Bridge and got the fuck over it.

What does it mean to be committed? What does it mean to take pride in playing? Sure, you can throw yourself in front of everything, knock yourself out yada yada yada, but when you're reward is a nice hefty wage packet, surely that's the least that's expected of you?

Commitment, to me, is like love (bet u wonder what's coming next, eh?!).

It's an over-used word.

You can say you're 100% committed, and then the next week, train a little bit harder. Are you now more than 100% committed? Truth is, every week sports people strive to work that little bit harder, to get things right an extra percent of the time. For me, when you play in adversity, when people are on your back, criticism is all around you, you have taken huge risks to get where you are, and you're reward is often very little, that is committment.

How do you measure success? The number of matches you win? Medals, trophies, major competitions? Is it as simple as that? For me, success is improvement, development, not making the same mistake twice, better performances, tweaking tiny elements and noticing the difference, and having the will to suceed, that is how you measure success.

What about pride? Should you be proud to wear whatever shirt you pull on regardless of who or what team it is? For me, there is nothing like playing for your country. I am a Protestant. I would regard myself as a British Citizen. I play hockey for Ireland, alongside other Protestants, Catholics, you name it we have it. And any issues that may arise from such a situation have never once entered my mind. Religion should play no part in hockey. That is one of the unique features of sport, its ability to transcend divides, to bring people together from all walks of life. Whether I play for Ulster or Ireland, I take huge pride in pulling on the shirt. Cliche, I know. I make no apologies. To do it on the back of a pretty damn hefty slice of sacrafice makes it all the more fulfilling. heck, if I got £150000 a week, I don't think I'd even like it as much!! (Although, let's not be silly here, a little wouldn't get amiss now would it?)

There are few athletes today that epitomise committment, success and pride in one glorious package with ribbon and a bow on top, and I myself am far from it. But it is so important, before you make the steps to acheive such goals, that you know what it means and what it takes to get there. For me, every day is like a school day (thanks Clarkie), and I'm constantly made aware of how to get where you want to be. stepping stones and all that jazz. All I know for sure is that I'm in it for the long haul, hold me back at your peril.

It's a pity u only live once, ain't it?

Dublin Eitquette

So, having been a resident of Dublin for just over 5 weeks now, I am slowly but surely learning the tricks of the trade. Here my friends are a few unofficial rules I have come to acknowledge in order to keep sane (and avoid the blame) when going about your business in the big smoke.

1. Traffic light turning red is a signal to put your foot on the accelerator and speed up. Approximately 5 seconds after the light has turned red, it is still acceptable to carry out the same process.

2. If you are a pedstrian, take note of point number one.

3. When using public transport, it is compulsary to accessorise your look with an ipod, iphone and/or ipad. The customary novel is a thing of the past, it seems.

4. Never look a beggar in the eye. They will try to steal something whilst you do.

5. If you're doing a vox-pop in the city centre, you may as well have leprosy. People will undoubtedly avoid you like the plague.

6. If you have a northern reg, police will also avoid you like the plague.

7. If Bachelor's Sugar-free beans are on offer...there is a reason why. Bleugh.

8. Taxis (not unlike Harry Wormwood), own electrical devices that allow their meters to shoot up after every pot-hole and bend in the road. Don't be surprised to find a 4 euro add-on fee to put your handbag in the boot.

9. The 2euro store dosn't have a patch on Poundland.

10. Good phone deals don't exist, and if you get 100 minutes and 100texts for 60euro a month it's considered a bargain.

11. Living in a quiet residential area of South Dublin is no reason to expect your car to be safe at night.

12. When it say "look left" on the road, don't forget to also look right, you never know what eejit cyclist will have decided to cycle the wrong way.

13. Keep money with you at all times, you will have to pay for parking on a secluded street at 4am on a Sunday morning.

14. If you looking for cheap entertainment, head down to the district courts. A. N. Other, of no fixed abode, with 143 previous convictions, will never fail to provide a laugh.

15. At around a euro a sip, savour every last drop of your pint.

16. When all is said and done, take a moment to savour the beauty, charisma, the culture and sheer uniqueness of the fair city. You are one lucky fecker.

Young at heart, or a boring old fart?

'Baa-ram-ewe. Baa-ram-ewe. To your breed, your fleece, your clan be true. Sheep be true. Baa-ram-eweeeeee.' Guess the film...

Yes, the answer is indeed the 1995 'blockbuster,' Babe. What a film eh? Who would ever have thought that Farmer Hoggett could teach the little porker how to gently herd Maa and her fellow comrades in and out of their pen. A delightful story with endearing characters that we cannot help but be drawn to. I am not ashamed to admit that Babe is up there amongst my favourite films. It is a classic in my eyes that never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Which got me to thinking about my favourite films. Sister Act. Home Alone. Shrek. Matilda. The Mighty Ducks. Indeed, none likely to receive complaints about their classification ratings. I would happily spend an evening in front of the telly watching any of the above. Is it wrong that I am 22 and can sing along with Sister Mary Clarence and the pupils of St. Francis Academy with ease? Am I immature? Or simply happy to retreat from the doom and gloom that is today's society, even just for 90 minutes?

My friends often laugh at me when I quote from a film. "Here you are, my heartstrings...AGGHHH" is a common one. "You guys give up, or you thirsty for more?" is another. When Shrek came into the cinema, I think I laughed harder than any of the kids (the opening scene of Shrek 1 when he farts in his mud bath and a fish floats to the surface is a personal favourite. Come on, you know it made you laugh). As unrealistic as it is, it's hard to beat a happy ending. As if the Mighty Ducks were going to lose in the finals. Or Babe wasn't going to get perfect scores at the sheepdog trials.

 People these days are far too serious. They need to lighten up. Sure, there are hard times, when we are low. Over-worked and under-paid, as they say. Surely such realism is all the more reason to unashamedly indulge in some light-hearted, innocent entertainment?! I have been called a big kid in my time. I can also be mature and well-behaved when I choose to be. Sometimes I am serious, sometimes I act like Bruce Bogtrotter around cake. But after all is said and done, I'm like an onion. I have layers.

Roo Selfish Git

"Aw crap, I've lost me wallet. Colleeeeeennn?!?"

So the debacle is over. After days of speculation, statements and slagging, Wazza has signed a 5 year contract with Manchester United, a mere 48 hours after suggesting his team-mates were not good enough to win anything and declaring his intention to leave the club. A load of palaver over nothing? A clever ploy by Rooney and his agent to 'bully' Ferguson into offering him an improved deal? Form your own opinions. The views of Utd. fans appear to be mixed. Some delighted he has agreed to sign a new deal (even after numerous insults shared over numerous social networking avenues. Oh how opinions change). Some not so happy, surely the most recent "Judas Escariot" of the footballing realm has his heart elsewhere, most likely at his nearest Halifax Branch? For me, one thing is frighteningly clear. Money is undoubtedly ruining football....and the lack of it is ruining the average Joe's of British and Irish society.

Rooney's new contract is reportedly worth £200,000 a week. Yaya Toure, £220,000/week. John Terry, £135,000/week. Christiano Ronaldo, £180,000/week. Rio Ferdinand, £120,000/week. Manchester City paid Inter Milan £23 million for Mario Balotelli during the summer. He demanded a £180,000/week contract, and so far this season has played 33 fine minutes of football for the club. That, my friends, is a £ per minute figure that I can not even bring myself to calculate.

Meanwhile, new analysis released today suggests that three quarters of a million public sector workers could lose their jobs as a result of the Government's spending review. Family home's are being repossessed as couples cannot afford their mortgage. More young people than ever before are migrating to pastures new in search of a better life (or if your Alex Ferguson, you see a cow in another field and think it's better than the one you have in your own). Graduates are working anywhere that will employ them, which in turn deals a blow to those who would have usually taken those jobs. Young parents struggling to make ends meet are facing the daunting prospect of child benefit cuts. Homelessness is more prevalent than ever before. All in all, we're in a right mess aren't we?

To write the previous two paragraphs makes my blood boil. The wages footballers demand is absolutely disgusting. They make more money in a month than some would hope to ever make in a lifetime. When will the line be drawn? How can one human being, same as the rest of us, be worth £80 million? The UK and Irish economy is in turmoil, and all-the-while Wayne Rooney can kick up a fuss and in 48 hours sees his wages double? The injustice is frightening. And for me, what appears all the more frightening, is that few even seem to mind.