Made by my head
Music, Ireland. Grey, name. My name. A step ladder. This house was built in a bog. Music is the window. I fell off a step ladder.

Saturday, December 31, 2005


Music. Simple Kid.

"Cheetahs." That's what I said when they asked why I was wearing a monocle. I thought it was as good an explanation as any, but it turned out that it wasn't as good as 'I drank that thing in the bucket', which was the correct explanation.

I looked down at my shoes. Then I looked at the record going around and around. Then I looked at my shoes again. Then I looked at Moses. He smiled and waved. Then I looked at the record again. "Cheetahs?" I said. Moses clicked his tongue and shook his head. Yeah, I should have gone for the other one again.

Man: Simple Kid.

Ciaran McFeely used to be in The Young Offenders. Now he's on his own as Simple Kid. He makes most other singer songwriters sound as if they've met a mouse with a bandage on his paw, and they said, "Oh no, the poor mouse has hurt his paw. I'm going to write a song about that." And the mouse looked at another mouse and shrugged his shoulders.


Saturday, December 24, 2005


Music. Rory Gallagher.

Roses (I'm pointing at roses). See, I didn't forget your birthday (I'm ducking to avoid the plates she's throwing into the air).

I played the piano, but I couldn't concentrate because four Sherpas were staring at me. She didn't like the way I was playing and she threw another plate, but I ducked. It hit one of the Sherpas and knocked him unconscious. It wasn't any easier to play the piano with just three Sherpas staring at me.

Man: Rory Gallagher.

Album: Irish Tour.


He made most other guitarists sound as if they were only playing to impress a woman who comes from a culture where music is created using weasels.

Santa and his Seven Dwarves are in the back garden. He got the dwarves a trampoline and a sand glass for Christmas. He says to one of them, "I want you to bounce up and down on your head on the trampoline with the sand glass in your hand, so the sand will drop to the other end, rather than just turning the sand glass over." I think he's confused.

Saturday, December 17, 2005


Music. Sort of. Eyebrowy.

Let's go surfing.

We're just standing on surf boards on the beach.

Okay, forget about the surfing.

I won the keys to a car. I just have to find the car. In unrelated news, I found a horse. I played golf with the horse, but he thinks the purpose of the game is to eat golf balls. I tried to explain the real point of golf, but I could never make it sound as exciting as eating golf balls. Let's go back to the surfing so.


Dave Fanning described it as a South Park version of the Dublin music scene. It's not as funny as South Park, and it won't be very funny at all if you're not familiar with the Dublin music scene. And it won't be funny if you're part of the Dublin music scene, which is what makes it funny for the rest of us.

Saturday, December 10, 2005


Music. Sultans of Ping.

I'm starring in my own sitcom. It's called 'Grey is Stupid'. I had problems with the title.

'My name is Tarzan and I'm in Ibiza' - this was the chat-up line I used in Ibiza, but no one believed me. I was actually in Mullingar, so I suppose they were right not to believe me. It was either that or tell them about my sitcom.

Band: The Sultans of Ping.

Song: Where's me Jumper?

Another great Cork band from the early nineties. They're back together again. They make most other bands sound as if they're only playing because someone is threatening them with a pliers.


Saturday, December 03, 2005


Music. Gavin Friday.

Hatstand. Sugar. Poison. One of these words is written across my forehead. I hope it's not 'hatstand' or 'sugar'.

I'm trying to count the Smurfs, but they're all running around my garden. A tuba falls on at least one of them, and the rest panic. They run around even quicker. If anyone asks, the tuba 'fell' on them. It doesn't help that they think I'm Roy Orbison.

'Roy Orbison' - that's what's written on my forehead.

Man: Gavin Friday.

Album: Shag Tobacco.

More influential than air.


He shoots, he scores, he glues himself to a lilac tree. Let's kick him.

A walk in the rain - Poetry. Ireland. Reading the news with no trousers.
Very Slight Stories - Very short stories.
Henry Seaward-Shannon - Slightly longer short-stories.

More blogs about music.


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