It’s Not The Size Of The Dog In The Fight, But The Size Of The Fight In The Dog…

Okay so here’s the deal. For SEVERAL days now I have been trying to compose something intelligible about the Olympics. I have started several drafts, updated countless results and profiled numerous athletes. But now, ten days in, I have come to the conclusion that attempting to write any kind of comprehensive or lucid account of the games whilst they are still ongoing is just shy of impossible. It’s not gonna happen. I just can’t do it. It’s all too much. There’s too much happening. It’s all too exciting. To be honest, I’m so enthralled I can hardly cope.

I’m just in awe of the whole thing. The stadium is magnificent. The enthusiasm is infectious. The pressure is on. The support is overwhelming. The competition is fierce. I’m totally enamoured with the athletes. All of ‘em. The determination. The dedication. The ridiculous physiques. The hours and months of training we didn’t see. The glorious wins and the crushing losses. The favourites and the dark horses. The injuries, the disqualifications, the record breakers, the close calls. They’re better than me. They’re younger than me. I want to see their twitter pictures. I’m even finding myself coming close to emotion at every medal ceremony I witness. Doesn’t matter what anthem is being played, if the medallists are welling up, I’m playing too. I do realise what a ridiculous person I am, but damnit it’s all just so feckin’ inspirational.

Will, Kate and their ever-present third wheel, everyone’s favourite royal, Harry the rascal, have been in attendance at several events, as has David Cameron. Paul McCartney was at track cycling. Bill Gates was at the tennis semi-final. David Beckham has been at the football. Bar Rafaeli cheered on Phelps at the swimming. Even Michelle “Tha Bomb” Obama came over to continue telling everyone to quit being so damn fat.

But this is all so new and unexpected. Three months ago I was wholeheartedly agreeing with my London-based cousin who ranted about the commuting issues she was expecting to face when the hysteria descended. In January, my beloved Christmas ads were replaced with patriotic, Olympic hype from across the Irish Sea. As the Budweiser Clydesdales were put out to pasture for another year and the Coca Cola lorries disappeared over the snowy horizon, we now had Fairy telling us that it takes 20,000 dishes to build an athlete, Ariel telling us that it’s the colours you came in that matter, British Airways commentating an international luggage race through the airport and Usain Bolt racing a bearded dude through London on behalf of Visa.

“This is all we’re gonna be hearing about now for the rest of the year.” I griped.

I hadn’t cared about Beijing in 2008 and I didn’t care now.

I do like this ad for Asics though… 

Except somewhere, sometime, somehow, I kiiiiinda started to care. And then I started to care a little more. And then it was July and I started to get excited. And then it was time for the opening ceremony and I nearly lost the whole run of myself with enthusiasm. I sat through the whole thing. It was amazing.

Since then, I have been riveted. My life has all but come to a standstill. I’m living in constant fear that I might miss something big. It’s really no way/the only way to be living. I’ve become a proper inexperienced expert, with an opinion on how everyone’s doing despite actually knowing jack shit about anything I’m talking about. You can expect to see evidence of this in the upcoming paragraphs.

The other day my brother and I were watching the Kayak Slalom. I’ve never watched a kayak competition before in my life.

“How’s yer man doing?”

“Eoin Rheinisch? He’ll qualify but he’ll not be in the top ten.”

“What’s his time?”

“1.89 something. Slow enough.”

Another evening was spent watching weightlifting with my dad… Yeah, weightlifting.

“How much does this guy have to lift now?”

“78KG.”

“And he’s failed twice so far? Nah. He’ll not do it. That left leg’ll get him again.”

“He might, you know. He almost had it last time.”

Point being? I’m in. I’m on board. I’ve got Olympic fever and I’m loving every second of it. I’m watching athletics and swimming and archery and equestrian and canoeing and weightlifting and diving and gymnastics and rowing and sailing and cycling and judo and volleyball. I’m watching it all. Except for handball. Handball is poxy.

Ireland have a team there. Course we do, bless our little cotton socks. We haven’t done all that tremendously well so far. But God loves a trier so we’ve sent over no less than 65 rosy Irish cheeks to have a go. Poor aul Grainne Murphy didn’t have a great time in the aquatic centre, losing her first race and later deciding to pull out. Leixlip canoeist, Eoin Rheinisch was doing fierce well there for a while but missed a gate in the slalom semi-finals, ending his Olympics in a matter of seconds. Aileen Morrison was our hardcore triathlete. She came 43^rd. Well done.  Kieran Behan, Ireland’s only competing gymnast (who, let the records show, was born in Laaaandan) was done after qualifications. Joanne Cuddihy placed 16^th out of 21 in the 400m semi-finals. As I type, Derval O’Rourke has managed to qualify for the 100m hurdles semis tomorrow. Even back in the RTE studios they’re like, “It’s the first time she’s run sub 10 seconds this season. This race isn’t about winning for Derval. It’s about breaking those barriers for herself.”… Well, good for her, but she’s currently 16^th overall and up against faster women like American runner Lolo Jones and Australian Sally Pearson.

Some of our Irish team. Clockwise (L-R): Swimmer, Grainne Murphy. Canoeist, Eoin Rheinisch. Gymnast, Kieran Behan. Sailor Annalise Murphy. 400m Joanne Cuddihy. 100m hurdler Derval O’Rourke and triathlete, Aileen Morrison.

Still though, while we unreservedly support every man and woman competing in green over there, we can’t be too disappointed. We never had our eggs in those baskets anyway. Nah. We don’t breed swimmers, gymnasts or sprinters here in Ireland. There are three types of athlete bred up in here. The first is the racehorse (Shergar, Rock of Gibraltar). The second is the GAA star (DJ Carey, Davey Fitzgerald, Jack O Se). And the third… Well, the third is boxers. We may not cycle all that brilliantly or have the best archers in the world but by gosh darn it we can give ya a good slap. Kevin McBride, Sam Storey, Barry McGuigan, Steve Collins, John Duddy, Bernard Dunne. Champions.

With this in mind, most of our eggs lie in the baskets of just four people. Paddy Barnes, Michael Conlan, John Joe Nevin and one miss Katie Taylor. All four Irish boxers made it through to their quarter-final matches.

Nevin, Barnes, Conlan and Taylor

Last night John Joe Nevin secured Ireland’s first medal, thrilling a nation. Bronze is his. He beat Mexican, Oscar Valdez in his quarter final bantamweight match. And he looked fuckin’ wrecked when it was over. He’ll fight again for silver on August 10^th.  Also, can I just point out one thing about John Joe Nevin; He boxes for Cavan boxing club (wayhey!!)

But yeah, these are Ireland’s medal hopes. Katie Taylor is Ireland’s own Jessica Ennis. Our face for the Olympics and our biggest bet for gold. She is the current Irish, world and European women’s boxing champion. Back home in Bray she’s been known to spar with fellow Olympic boxer, Paddy Barnes. She was also in that awesome ad for Lucozade sport with Tinie Tempah and Travis Barker. And she’ll fight today. A win guarantees Ireland’s own little fighting machine a bronze medal. It also advances her to the semi-final. A win there guarantees her a silver medal and advances her to the final on Thursday evening where a win would, of course, earn her the coveted and illusive gold.

Here she is showing what she’s made of in a spar against Paddy Barnes: 

Aside from the excitement of the possibility of a medal for Ireland, so much has been going on lads! Have ya seen much of it so far? It’s been treeeeemendous!

The first event that got me all psyched up was the Men’s Synchronised 10m Platform last Monday. Wee Tom Daley was diving with his partner Pete Waterfield (not Waterman, totally different guy). They finished in 4^th place after a bad final dive.

I love Tom Daley. Not in that paedo “phwoar” way that hoards of teenage girls or the pervs that work for Heat magazine do (he was Torso of the Week last week. He’s 18 lads. Don’t be sinners.). Nah, I like him more in a “aw, look at him there! I just wanna pinch his cheeks and carry him home in my pocket,” sort of a way. I watched that documentary on BBC a couple of weeks ago, ‘Diving For Britain’. It was about Tom and his mission towards the Olympics. Now, I don’t cry at movies (cold, black heart, remember?), but I cried watching this documentary. I know, I’m so embarrassed. BUT, like it featured his dad who was his greatest supporter and friend and went to every training session and every competition. He died last year from cancer of the brain. The documentary captured his whole illness and lickle Tom’s reaction. I defy you to watch this and not cry as a dying man talks about his fear that he might not get to see his son compete at the Olympics. My brother said this: “You’re on his twitter now? You do realise that he’s a poncy little wanker, don’t you?” But I don’t. I think he’s a lovely and extraordinarily talented young buck. He’s diving next in the Men’s 10m Platform individuals on August 10^th.

Awwww, Tom Daley. Individual 10m platform. August 10 guys.

The swimming events took place this week too. They. Were. Awesome!!! One name dominated the whole show. Phelps. Now a former swimmer, these games saw Phelps tally up his number of Olympic medals to 22, making him the most decorated Olympian of all time. I mean, the guy is just ridiculous. Thank God he’s giving up. It was like Formula 1 back when Michael Schumacher owned the whole thing. It was less exciting because you just always knew that he was gonna win it. Apparently Michael Phelp’s arms, when spread out, measure 2m across. He’d wrap ‘em around most of us twice! You also have to give love him for that time he was pictured smoking a bong. Oh Mickey, you naughty little scamp! Olympic swimmers don’t smoke weed! Silly pup!

The greatest Olympian of all time, Michael Phelps, in and, uh, out of the pool…

Friday saw the start of athletics. What the Olympics is really all about. I was all over the Women’s Heptathlon. You know why. She’s been the most prominent face of Team GB. She’s everywhere. She was on the cover of Cosmo this month. She’s staring out from magazine pages as the face of Olay. Yeah, I’m talking about Jessica Ennis. I’m not sure any athlete competing in the games right now has had as much pressure on them to achieve as this chick.

Before last week I didn’t really know what a heptathlon was. Matter fact, turns out I’ve been pronouncing it wrong my whole entire life. Hep-A-thlon. No. Hep-TA-thlon. Anyways, so turns out it consists of 100m hurdles, 200m sprint, 800m sprint, high-jump, long-jump, javelin throw and shot put. Guys? That’s seven things!

Jessica Ennis has been heavily publicised this year. She’s had the whole of Great Britain behind her. I’ve been behind her too. We feel like we know her. She’s from Sheffield. She’s got a dog called Myla, a fiancé called Andy and reckons she makes a mean lasagne. She’s relatable. Except get the fuck with that! Jessica Ennis only seems like the rest of us. In reality, when you are getting up to pee at 6am and hoping to god you can get back to sleep for an hour and a half before your alarm goes off, Jessica Ennis is probably sprinting on a track in the cold morning air. When you are griping about having too much to carry in from the car (a top personal gripe of mine), Jessica Ennis is probably working on her javelin throw. When you are struggling to climb the stairs after that really intense 45minute-long zumba class, Jessica Ennis is probably having an ice-bath after a six hour training session. When you are chowing down on a full-Irish and a packet of Rancheros, Jessica Ennis is probably eating three bananas and a bowl of porridge. She’s not like you and me. She’s an athlete. And that’s the reason she won the gold medal in the London 2012 Women’s Heptathlon in what I have decided was the greatest moment of the games thus far.

Heptathlete Jessica Ennis burst into tears as she crossed the 800m line, securing her first Olympic gold.

It was amazing. By the time the last heptathlon event rolled around on Saturday evening; the 800m, Jessica was in the lead. She won her semi-final, earning enough points to make her unmatchable. She cinched the gold and burst into tears as she crossed the line. She ran 800m, eight football fields, in 2minutes 8seconds. Yesterday I decided to run 400m, just to see. I ran it in 1minute and 54 seconds. Almost two minutes. To run half of what Jessica Ennis ran in just 14 seconds more. And I was fit to collapse after. Pathetic.

Saturday, as it turned out, was Great Britain’s most successful day at the Olympics in 104 years as they took home six golds. Jessica Ennis, of course, won the heptathlon. Then there was golds in the Men’s Long Jump. Two rowing golds. Cycling gold and then the thinnest man I’ve ever seen, Somali-born, British runner, Mo Farah won the 10,000m.  Sure it’s all happening lads!

Golds for GB. Clockwise (L-R): Cyclist Bradley Wiggins, Long jumper Greg Rutherford, Tennis champ Andy Murray, 10,000m Mo Farah, Shooter Peter Wilson, Cyclist Victoria Pendleton, Rowers Sophie Hoskins and Katherine Copeland and Heptathlete Jessica Ennis.

Ultimately though, at this point, it’s all about one guy. They call him Usain. He thinks he’s Richard Branson. But he is, in fact, the fastest man on the planet. He loves chicken nuggets, dancing and he regularly tweets pictures of himself playing Call of Duty. He said he’s 95% fit for these games. He also said that, if he feels up to it after the 100m, he might go for gold in the 200m; “for my country, why not?”.

Last night Usain qualified for the 100m finals with a time of 09.87. In the second semi-final Bolt’s fellow Jamaican and training partner, Yohan Blake won with a time of 09.85. Faster than Richard Branson and his high speed broadband. The final was at ten to ten. Eight of the fastest men in the world lined up and millions took ten seconds out of their hectic lives to see who’d take the gold. But you know who took it. You know who’d take it from the start. The Lightening Bolt ran it in 09.63 seconds, a new Olympic record (he would, wouldn’t he) and proof that his winning semi-final time was the result of him not even bothering to try.

Team mates, training partners, rivals, Usain Bolt and Yohan Blake after Bolt’s 100m win last night

He was, predictably, followed by Blake at 09.75 and then American, Justin Gatlin for the bronze in 09.79. It was EPIC! Bolt runs again in round one of the 200m on Tuesday. He’ll win it. Course he will. Look at the big gangly arms on him. No contest.

And that’s pretty much where we’re at so far. The week ahead looks good too, set to be dominated by boxing for us. We’ll see more from Usain Bolt from Tuesday. Little Tom Daley dives again on August 10^th. Dublin girl, Annalise Murphy is sailing today. She’s in with a chance of another Irish medal. With a bit of luck we might see Billy Twomey or Cian O’Connor in the showjumping final on Wednesday. We’ll have some more canoeing, rhythmic gymnastics. Taekwondo begins on Wednesday. And, of course, athletics will go on in the stadium up to Friday.

Then, on Sunday, it will all end. There will be a big-ass ceremony. The athletes will march again. There will be winners and, uh, LOSERS! Muse will play. Take That will play. London will hand over the Olympics to the next host city for the 2016 Olympic Games, Rio de Janeiro. And then… The flame will be extinguished. And I will be devastated. Because the excitement will be over for another four years.

Hold up, wait, I’m getting all melancholic for no good reason! There’s still a whole week to go! There’s so much still to come. So many medals still to be won. It’s not over yet. And to be honest with ya, I’ll probably be back here again next week doing this again.

Oh also, there are no videos of the Olympics available on youtube right now hence why I haven’t embedded any. They’re so darned protective of that shit. Sincere apologies.

Here’s Usain being Richard Branson for the craic…

Take This Pink Ribbon Off My Eyes…

Feminism.

I know, I know… My mind is exactly where yours is right now, picturing some ugly bird with a mole on her chin, in an unflattering outfit, holding a match to her bra, bitching about Playboy whilst simultaneously painting a picture of her vagina in a liberating expression of femininity.

Look, I am going to discuss feminism up in here. But… I don’t like that sanctimonious aul’ hag any more than you do. She’s extreme and impractical, either ignorant to or disregarding of the fact that she needs that bra to stop her boobies tippin’ down for a chat with her bellybutton.

Aussie Feminist, Germaine Greer said this about bras:

“Bras are a ludicrous invention, but if you make bralessness a rule, you’re just subjecting yourself to yet another repression. For some, the bra remains a symbol of restrictions imposed by society on women.”

Ludicrous?! I tell ya what Germaine, assuming you’re not quite a 32A, bin the bra and then go for an aul’ jog on the treadmill. Ludicrous still? Or proven essential?

Personally, I like to wear a bra most days. Not only that but I’ll take all the support they can offer me. Full-cup? Aye. Good, wide bone? That’s the ticket! Three clasps at the back? Sold!

But anyways, I’ve digressed. Feminism is an issue that makes most modern women recoil in horror and embark on a passionate denial campaign. That’s thanks to the stereotypical notions of feminists as cranky, man-hating, hippies striving to be artists, poets, scholars and feckin’ electricians.

I am not a feminist. I think women have come too far to still be playing victims. Modern feminism is little more than a justification for women to fight for something that is already ours, something that was given to us by women like Emily Davison, the suffragette who was killed in 1913 when she threw herself in front of the King’s horse at the Epsom Derby in a display of martyrdom for women’s rights, of which we had few.

But we no longer have few. The suffragettes of the 20^th century were the real feminists. The cause was real and the goal was immense. They changed the world. In the 1960s second-wave feminism exploded. The contraceptive pill was approved and a whole bunch of new issues arose. The hippies were ON IT!  They tackled sexism and workplace discrimination. Big things, you guys. Big things. The women of yesteryear made it easy for us. They fought the fight so we could reap the benefits.

Suffragette Emily Davison throws herself in front of the King’s horse at the Epsom Derby 1913

So why are we still whining?

We are currently in the centre of what is known as “third-wave feminism”. Now, under-informed and unenthusiastic about the movement, I can only speak from personal opinion. And my personal opinion is that these whinging broads would wanna take a step back and realise that women have never been so free. Neither have we ever been so powerful. 2012 is not the time to be crying about how difficult it is to be female.

Small yarn: My 20-year-old brother has been driving for five years. He passed his driving test first time. He drives a small but incredibly loud little Fiesta. And he is plagued by the guards. The kid is insured. He’s taxed. The car is NCT’d. He has a full-licence. He is, in all regards, completely within the law. Yet he is stopped by the Siochana frequently. His discs are checked. He is questioned. Sometimes searched. I, on the other hand, am 24-years old. I have been driving my little navy Yaris for two years. Like my brother, I am reliably law-abiding. Unlike my brother, I am left alone by the Guards. Rightly so. But the double standard, far as I’m concerned, seems to be gender focused. In the eyes of the Irish cop, a young dude like my brother has to be up to no good. Catching him on the roads provokes a full interrogation. I’ve been stopped on the roads once… Once… In two years. The guard made a bit of small talk, looked at my licence and sent me on my merry way. I’m a girl. Why would they bother interrogating me? It’s the lads they’re after.

Is not that sexism? Methinks so.

The fact is that we live in a time rife with strong women. Hillary Clinton. She came so close to being president that time. It’s gonna happen someday soon yo! A woman will be president of the United States. Lori Reynolds made headlines last year when she assumed the role of Commander of the USMC training headquarters at Parris Island. Julia Gillard became Prime Minister of Australia in 2010. More familiar faces like Oprah Winfrey, Ellen DeGeneres, Angelina Jolie. Women. Being. BOSS!

The music industry too is dominated by women. Gaga, Rihanna, Katy Perry, Lopez, Kelly Clarkson, Pink, Nicki Minaj and, my personal list-topper, Beyonce Knowles. Look at this:  Word. Don’t fuck with Beyonce. She brings it.

See, Beyonce’s got it right. Successful, beautiful, talented and savvy. She’s the biggest star in the world right now. She knows what she’s doing. Her priorities are set and all her ducks are in a row. She sang ‘Independent Women’ with Destiny’s Child and she meant it. Jay-Z has 99 problems but his bitch ain’t one. Beyonce shows us that you can have great strength and still be feminine. She voids the feministic idea that women should reject societal ideals; things like make-up, high-heels and embracing sexuality. Beyonce wears heels, she shows some skin and she runs the world (ish).

Women not to be fucked with: Clockwise L-R: First Lady Michelle Obama, President of the Indian National Congress Sonia Gandhi, First US female navy carrier-based fighter pilot Kara Hultgreen, Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard, Oprah Winfrey, US Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton, Editor-In-Chief of the New York Times Jill Abramson and (Centre) Beyonce Knowles.

We don’t need angry old dolls bitching about porn and maternity leave, born into the wrong generation and tardy to the party by about forty years. Women, in the 21^st century, well, we’re alright. I’m a firm believer that if one plays the victim, one will be the victim. If feminists could just quit the moaning and look around they’d see that they’re fighting a battle that has already been won. The audience has celebrated and moved on and they are left behind, full of resentment because they seem to now feel that women deserve superior rights to men.

I don’t believe that radical expression and lingering on issues past is doing anything for women. But I do believe in independence, in confidence and in doing and being anything you want, regardless of gender.

In Pink’s song, ‘Stupid Girls’, she comments on the abundant examples of unmotivated, under-achieving, conformist girls whose life goals include having bigger boobs and marrying into money. These chicks are everywhere. They wanna be WAGS, they love fancy handbags and they play dumb to make men feel more intelligent. They spend their childhood wanting to be vets and then, somewhere along the way, a lack of inspiration and/or proper guidance they come to believe that one’s goal in life should be marriage, money and children. The ambition of being a vet gets replaced with one of just wanting a husband who makes a decent wage. The sound of their dreams gets drowned out by the deafening tick of their biological clock. These girls do just about as much for women as the modern feminists do, reiterating clichés of women, setting us back and standing as utterly useless role models for the confused generation behind us.

Courtney Love may be crazy like a fox, but she took the notion of femininity, turned it upside down and owned that shit! 

Have you ever read any of the women’s magazines like Cosmopolitan or Marie Claire? I think they’re behind this conflict between being a Courtney Stodden or a Tracy Emin. It was actually an article in Cosmopolitan that inspired this article/rant/nonsense. It was written by a dude who was giving out about men having to pay for everything on dates. Is he right or is he wrong? I’ve no idea really. But it made me think. In the same issue of Cosmo there was an article about how in order to succeed, women need to be pushier, like men. Few pages ahead, there’s an article listing the three things that men look for in a girl (1. you don’t flip out if you lose your phone. 2. you can sense if something’s wrong with him. 3. you tell funny, interesting stories about your day). Few pages ahead there’s an interview with Olympic athlete, Jessica Ennis. An article on how to firm up your body. Then an article called (and I’m dead serious with this) ‘What His Penis Wishes You Knew.’ Then an inspiring interview with “An Alpha Female”. It’s just all so inconsistent. Of course, it’s all silly fucking fluff really, but there are women who read that shit and think, “yeah, I wanna know what his penis wishes I knew!” We all know idiots like that.

When your shitty personality just doesn’t cut it, good old Cosmo has the answers!

But look, I’m not saying that I’m any kind of brilliant, independent, gung-ho maverick woman. I bought that magazine. And I read it cover to cover.

A few months back, I wrote a blog here about my second year in college when I lived with four guys. It was awesome. I loved it. I loved them. We had a blast. When the year was up and third year rolled around, I was in an apartment with four other girls. It was not cool. They did not like me. I did not like them. We did not have a blast. When all was said and done I concluded that men have it right with their approach. They just don’t give a fuck. A spade is a spade. They don’t feel hard done by as men. And they don’t care if we feel hard done by as women.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, why can’t we just be let be. I like being a girl. I like having long nails. I like styling my hair. I like high-heels. But I also like Discovery Channel documentaries. I like roaming the countryside with my dogs. I like video games. I believe in romance too but it’s not my be all and end all. I think if you take care of yourself, indulge your interests, chase your dreams and be the best you can be, the rest will come.

Life is what you make of it. It’s not about oppression. It’s not about discrimination. And it’s certainly not about gender. It’s time to forget feminism altogether, let sleeping dogs lie and seize the opportunities that lie in front of us. If he doesn’t hold the door open for you, it’s just because he’s a prick, that’s all. And you’re a prick too if you don’t hold it open for him. That’s gender equality.

Fire in The Heart, Ice in The Veins…

So…. Euro 2012 is underway in Poland. Ireland are out. Beaten by Croatia and then by Spain. We will likely be beaten by Italy tomorrow night, just as a final kick us in the balls when we’re already on our knees, sealing our place as one of the most embarrassing countries to be from in Europe. Cheers for that one. The Irish fans and their vocal support long past the final whistle at the Spain match are having their praises sung by all and sundy, except for Roy Keane, who said something about coming along for a sing-song not being enough. Personally, I could give a shit about any of it.

Here’s what I know about football: 

I tried to be into football for a while when I was younger. My brother and cousin were all about it, so I joined ’em, deciding my favourite team was Manchester United and my favourite player was Ole Gunnar Solskjaer. My cousin and I, creatively, called him “Curly Boy” because of his curly, black hair, and, man, we thought we were THE SHIT for coming up with such a hilarious and original nickname. So… that’s embarrassing for me. Anyways my affair with the beautiful game was short lived owing to the fact that I found it boring as hell and didn’t understand any of the rules. Any of ’em. None. Except that a red card meant “get off, you naughty little scamp!”

That was it. In the years since my foray into soccer fandom, I’ve dallied with other sports. I played handball for a while in National School (I even made in on to the BOYS doubles team! WHAT! WHAT!). But handball, as it turns out, is a pathetic sport and nobody plays it. Then I was an avid horse-rider for years. The highlight of my year used to be going to the Dublin Horse Show every August. And I’d always buy a pile of junk that I didn’t need; grooming brushes, pony treats, coloured whips, helmet covers, books, you name it! Alas, you don’t see much of equestrian competitions on the big screens down the local. Then I fell in with motorsport for a good while. There was a good two years where I repeatedly found myself awake at some ridiculous hour of a Sunday morning so I could watch the live coverage of whatever Formula 1 race was on (I was a Raikkonen fan.) Nothing stuck. Rugby? Too violent. Golf? Too boring. Cricket? Too British. GAA? Too familiar.

I gave up. I quit like a great big quitter. I informed the tomboy lurking inside me that she was bound to stay where she was, to be freed only by occasional splurges on Military Channel documentaries and Man Vs Wild. I dedicated my life to celebrity gossip instead. I was in an Irish Bar in Newcastle with some family last April, when our home province team, Ulster, beat Edinburgh to make it through to the 2012 Heineken Cup Final. The place was jammed with excited, chanting, raucous men, my own relations included. The buzz was electric. I couldn’t tell you what the score was. I could, however tell you that that was the day after Barack Obama made fun of Kim Kardashian at the White House Correspondents dinner. Or that Beyonce called her fake pregnancy rumours “crazy” that day. Or that LeAnn Rimes and Eddie Cibrian had just renewed their wedding vows. That’s what I can tell ya.

So, it was somewhat a bolt from the blue when, in June of last year, I discovered….. HOCKEY!!!

I was a latecomer to the 2011 NHL race for the Stanley Cup, not witnessing anything before the opening game of the finals. I was introduced to the game by my best-friend and serial cohort, who happens to be Vancouver born. The season culminated in June for a series of seven playoff games between the Boston Bruins and the Vancouver Canucks. So my best friend is a ‘Couv native. But then, I have an uncle who’s lived in Boston for the past twenty-odd years. Who was I gonna root for? I ultimately went with the Canucks after coming to the realisation that they were ruthlessly vicious, hard-as-nails and hell bent on fighting for that cup. The Canucks fought dirty throughout the playoffs and we fucking loved it. We downloaded every game the night after it had aired (because where were we gonna watch it live?) and we sat, enthralled, involved and committed.

It came down to the wire. When game seven rolled around on June 15, the Canucks had three wins and the Bruins had three wins. Game seven was the decider. And the Bruins destroyed the Canucks 4-0 at Rogers Arena, taking the Stanley Cup back home to Massachusetts and out of the reach of the devastated Canucks. Ryan Kesler bawled his wee eyes out right there on the ice. The people of Vancouver responded decidedly badly to the loss. Suffice to say, they went fucking apeshit and rioted the shit out of the city!

Canucks fan in Vancouver in the aftermath of the 2011 Stanley Cup Riot

I didn’t mind all that much. I was happy enough. Because I’d discovered a sport I could get down with. I faacking laaaaved hockey!!!

Agus is anseo an fath…

The Insanse “WHERETHEFUCKISTHEPUCK?!” Speed

Hockey moves fast. The players skim across the ice at lightening speed and send the puck even faster. The average speed of a player is around 25mph. The average speed of the puck is around 97mph. Pretty nifty. Games are three periods, each twenty minutes in duration, and there’s zero let up. I mostly learned to forget trying to keep and eye on the puck and just watch the players. Go where they go. All the glory of goals, as far as I’m concerned, has to be absorbed in the replay, seeing as I’m never actually paying close enough attention to see it do down in the first place.

Here’s Canuck centre, Ryan Kesler, goin’ hella fast at the 2011 NHL Skills Competition: 

The Violence

Listen okay, I know I said that I can’t watch rugby because it’s too violent, BUUUUT, for absolutely no justifiable reason whatsoever, the violence in hockey is kind of what makes it for me. So we know these guys move fast. But they also go hard.

There’s a tactic used in play called “checking”. Without going into an condescending and unnecessary explanation, checking, or more specifically, body-checking, involves slamming oneself into an opponent, usually the dude with the puck, and forcing him into the ringside boards. It’s fucking brutal lads.

This one time, in 1996, Detroit Red Wings player, Kris Draper, was checked from behind by Colorado Avalanche player, Claude Lemieux. He hit the boards face first. Broke his jaw, his nose and his cheekbone. Draper’s teammate, Darren McCarty was behind the board and later said he “could hear his face crack”. Noice. McCarty would later go on to launch an EPIC retaliation attack on Lemieux the following year when the Red Wings faced the Avalanches again.

A Subheading For Violence… THE FIGHTING!

Oh man, the fighting. You know, I’ve long held the opinion that soccer players are nothing but over-paid, over-pampered, helpless little paaaaansies. This I maintain. You know that  guy, Didier Drogba? Plays for Chelsea. Isn’t he notorious for faking injuries? I think I read that… Anyways, you don’t get that shit in hockey. These guys are HARD. AS. NAILS.

Fighting, in the NHL, is not only legal, it is openly encouraged and viewed as tradition. Heck, it is tradition. Fights are usually the role of the enforcers. It’s their job to aggravate the fuck out of the other guys. Some fights are premeditated by the players, some  erupt suddenly out of nowhere, some involve two guys, some involve two teams, some are professional, some are personal. But all are ferocious. Sticks are thrown down, gloves are usually discarded and players descend into a melee of fists and fury on the ice, watched by the refs, who decide when enough is enough.

This is a good ‘un: 

Hockey teams are close knit and more often than not, players are not afraid to jump into a fight on behalf of a teammate slighted. Blood is shed and the crowds go clayne ballistic for it! Decent fighters are valued by their team and revered by fans.

Hell, the Canucks won me over last year because of their infamous bad behaviour on the ice. I loved it.

The Fans

Michael Buble, of Vancouver, British Columbia, is so dedicated to hockey that he requests a local team hockey puck in his dressing room everywhere he performs. Michael Buble (who’s marriage won’t last, by the way), is so devoted to hockey that he bought part of the Vancouver Giants team.

Hockey fans are loyal and committed. And they’re involved. Part of the beauty of a hockey game is that the fans are separated from the game by just a glass board, which the players are slammed up against continually throughout a game. There seems to be a certain level of intimacy at a hockey game. Thousands of people, supporting their side and going pure wild at the very inclination that a fight might go down.

I digress again to the Vancouver riots. The second time Canucks fans had a less than docile response to a Stanley Cup loss. Yes it was a pretty substantial overreaction. Things got a bit cray, people got hurt, it wasn’t cool. But if anything marked the kinship that the fans feel for their teams, that was it. Vancouver was a city devastated. They had come so close. And they reacted, in true Canuck style; ridiculously violently.

Skill

So you want to be a hockey player? Okay, well first you’re gonna have to learn to skate. Then you’re gonna have to learn to skate backwards. Then fast. You’re gonna have to be able to stop suddenly or you’ll get busted into the boards. Now you’ve gotta learn how to use a stick, how to hold it, how to maneuver the puck. Then learn all the various types of shots; slapshot, wristshot, snapshot, backhand slapshot, sheesh. Okay, then learn how to “deke”, or trick your opponent with decoy moves. Evasive skating. Toughen up for some checking. Lose some teeth, perhaps. Learning to fight wouldn’t be the worse decision.

I just… Like, it’s definitely more than I know I’d be able to handle! Yeah, yeah, footballers are skilled too. Aye, but they’re also great big paaaansies, remember!

Shootouts

In 2005, the NHL made a controversial decision; to make tied games obsolete. The shootout was born.

It’s pretty straight-forward, if the game runs it’s time and the scores are tied, then it goes to shootouts. Each team has three players take a shot. The best of three wins the game. But what if both teams score 2 out of 3? Then it’s shootouts until one team scores and the other misses.  Simples.

It means every game ends with a clear winner. It means that tensions run high and games often come right down to it!

The Stanley Cup Itself

First of all, all the players on a Stanley Cup winning team get their names engraved on the cup. So that’s awesome.

Second of all, every player on the winning team gets a day with the cup, and he can do whatever the heck he likes with it. In 1996, Sylvain Lefebvre , of the Colorado Avalanches, used the cup as a baptismal font for his daughter. Creeeeepy. Okay. In 1994, New York Rangers forward, Ed Olczyk, took the cup to the stable of  Kentucky Derby winner, Go For Gin, where the horse ate out it. The horse… Ate… Out of the Stanley Cup. Patrick Kane of the Chicago Blackhawks took the cup to Niagara Falls in 2010. Mark Messier, Edmonton Oilers, took it to a strip club. It’s even been to Kandahar, Afghanistan. I mean, you know?! That’s aces!

Los Angeles Kings captain, Dustin Brown, with The Stanley Cup. June 2012.

Celebrities

I had to get it in there! As I said Mickey Buble is a massive hockey fan. Corey Monteith, of Glee fame, has been spotted at several Canucks games. Vince Vaughn is a huge Chicago Blackhawks fan. Snoop Dogg supports the Anaheim Ducks. Carrie Underwood is married to Mike Fisher of the Nashville Predators. Mike Myers, Justin Bieber and Drake are all Toronto Maple Leaf fans. Trey Parker (South Park) is a Colorado Avalanches supporter. Kevin Smith, of Mallrats, Clerks, Jay and Silent Bob, fame, supports the New Jersey Devils. Kid Rock, Detroit Red Wings. All the names, yo. All the names.

 

I could go on but I feel I’ve started rambling so I’mma go ahead and curtail myself ‘fore I go cross-eyed. You get the gist of what I’m sayin’ though, right? That hockey is gosh-darned awesome and I wish it was more available to us Paddys. Sure we love a bit of violence, no?

Look, Kanye West knows… 

Lewd, Crude, Nude and Tweeting Some Dude…

Last week I read a story that, for no reason I can put my finger on, shook me to my core (lie). I was horrified (lie). It was one of those stories that you hear and then it lingers in the back of your mind for days after, discreetly bothering you at random interludes throughout the day.

The story was about Melanie Sykes and her new toyboy lover, Jack Cockings. They’ve been doing some very racy and public talking about their relationship via Twitter.

We’ve known Melanie for years. She used to do ‘The Big Breakfast’ on Channel 4 way back when. She did ‘Today With Des and Mel’ and ‘Let’s Do Lunch With Gino and Mel’. She did ‘The Vault’ on ITV. She did ads for ‘Head and Shoulders’. She’s done loads of crap. You know, the kinds of shows that tired, slightly overweight housewives watch at 12:30 on a Tuesday afternoon with a cup of tea and a packet of Bourbons while the kids are at school and before the washing machine finishes. Melanie is one of those people that have just always been there. She’s always been around on the telly, smiling, laughing and generally being far too hot to be someone we can all relate to (in the same vein as Myleene Klass). We know her. We like her. She’s a successful television presenter. She has two young boys aged 10 and 8.  Her physique is riDONKulous.

Awww look, it’s Des and Mel! We know them!

Except now Mel has gone and forever tarnished her lovely image by being a cheap, filthy, over-sharing tart on Twitter.

After going through a divorce in 2009, Melanie soldiered on. She got herself a Radio2 show with Alan Carr. She landed a gig hosting ‘Missing Millions’ on ITV. She posed nudey, nude, nude for Esquire magazine in December 2011. And then, in May this year, Melanie did something no self-respecting (and incredibly good-looking) celebrity should ever do. She hooked up with some nobody that she met on Twitter! WHATADUMBBUTT!

The guy is a 26-year-old investment, finance something-or-other whose Twitter handle is @bespokespartan. He’s 15 years her junior. So, what’s that rule for dating younger?  They say that the lowest age you can date is someone half your age plus seven. So Melanie is 41. Half of 41 is 20.5. 20.5 plus 7 is 27.5. Melanie can, therefore, unashamedly date someone who is 27.5 years old. Uh Oh…

Anyways, Melanie clearly is not familiar with this rule and is flagrantly parading her new love on the social media website.

Right, the dirt…

So they met on Twitter in April when Jack, having failed to attract the attention of either Jodie Marsh (“Do you need a boyfriend?”) or Cheryl Cole (“Love you.x”) with his tweets, turned his focus to our Mel. He tweeted her saying, “No way are you 41. Marry me?” He then proceeded, mortifyingly, to barrage her with photos of his kid and pictures of himself working out (awesome. How cool is he?!) until Mel, idiotically, started replying. She followed him. She told him he was “adorable” despite the volume of evidence pointing to him being a cocky, arrogant little prick who was chancing his arm with a celebrity, likely for the amusement of his equally pompous mates.

Jack Cocky, sorry, Cockings… What a stud!

Long story short, they’re now boyfriend and girlfriend and appallingly crude for all to see on Twitter. She’s calling it an incredible modern day romance. I’m calling bullshit. I’m also calling a decidedly short relationship lifespan.

Here’s one exchange:

@MsMelanieSykes: ‘Jack the rabbit I need some bunny love so hop to it!! Xxx boing boing!!! Loooooool xxxxxxx’…@bespokespartan: Only if I can bounce into your face! Xxx’ … @MsMelanieSykes: ‘Will you fill mine? Xxx’

Good. God.

Ahem, I continue…

@bespokespartan: ‘I’m ready and very hard! Bouncy bouncy xxx’… @MsMelanieSykes: ‘Me nips are up! tweak tweak!! Xxx’

@MsMelanieSykes: ‘Get off Twitter and get back in bed! Xxx’ God you are insatiable! I love it! Xxx.’

@MsMelanie Sykes: ‘My white jeans can’t take it anymore gonna have to rip these babies off! X’ and ‘my throat is inflamed can you help? : )’

I mean, you know what I’m sayin’? Tone it the fuck down you guys! I’m delighted that yiz are havin’ great sex and all but some of us are Catholics up in here! All evidence points to Ms Sykes not doing very well free from the constrictions of a daytime watershed.

I have drawn one main conclusion about their relationship…

Poor Melanie Sykes must having some kind of mid-life crisis. She’s the wrong side of 40 now, her kids are getting older, she’s been through a divorce, her career hasn’t panned out quite as well as Holly Willoughby’s and she’s decided “fuck it. Despite having the rockin’ body of an athlete, Melanie lapped up the attention of the brash banker, who, let the records show, has a tattoo on his ass of his mate’s name that he got for “banter” (well done on your life, son). She’s all consumed and flattered by the interest of a “hot” younger man and wants the world to know. She might as well hijack BBC News and announce, “I may not be Claudia Winkleman but I’m hot and young men still want me!” . I mean, I’m assuming that she’s just loving the notoriety that comes with having a toyboy and all the attention that her personal (public) exploits have garnered. Damn it, if she can’t be Kate Thornton then she’s gonna be a whole new Melanie Sykes. Fuck to being a responsible mother. Fuck to being a family-friendly TV personality. Fuck to being in any way respectable. Fuck to dignity. She’s gonna have at it!

See though, the thing is, I’m not saying that she’s out and out wrong. On one hand I’m thinking, good for you. Why not? If she wants to have a toyboy then have one. She’s clearly very satisfied. But Jesus Christ would ya shut the heck up about it on Twitter?!

Her older son is ten years old. No messin’, I know ten-year-olds who are on Twitter. Ten-year-olds today are not like ten-year-olds ten years ago. When I was ten I got on the ol’ dial-up very occasionally and when I did, I was looking up shit like, “horse grooming brush”. These days I’ve got eight-year-old kids telling me about the referendum and saying that Wayne Rooney is a bad man “because he kissed someone else that was wasn’t his wife.” Kids know stuff. They’ve got access yo.

In the days since the media picked up on her smut, Melanie has apparently gained something like 15,000 new followers (I’m one of ‘em!). Perhaps that’s all part of the plan. I don’t know.  What I will say though, is that if she continues down this line, destroying her respectability as a daytime TV figure, unconscientiously producing cripplingly embarrassing ammo for playground bullies to use against her children for years to come and categorically abandoning her sense of morality through her lewd messages, then that’s gonna be 15,000 horrified yet highly entertained individuals.

HOLY. SWEET. JAYSUS!!! She posted this in between bouts of “giddy knickers”.. Like, ya can almost see her.. YIKES!

By all accounts it would seems that @MsMelanieSykes is under the impression that this is a real relationship. This week she tweeted, “‘I’d like to formally announce that @bespokespartan is my boyfriend.” She is evidently oblivious to just how, ahem, whorey, she is actually coming across. See, it’s great to have a full and active sex life and all but there are certain things that just shouldn’t be said on a social networking site to thousands of people. You know, things like, “I’ve got the raging horn, please take me.”

All said and done, the fact is that any dude who tweets,”tweeting while hanging out the back of @MsMelanieSykes”  (yeah… I know) is probably not the man that you’re going to share a long and happy life with. He’s not likely going to be an honourable father figure to your two sons who, in just a few short years, will probably be big enough to give him the slap they’d be entitled to give him.

@bespokespartan: “Should I take @MsMelanieSykes in the ass tonight???” – Oh God! I dunno brother! Maybe just ask her! I don’t… Like, I just can’t… Ugh!

Sigh, and like, the fing is, yeah? I’m sure Melanie Sykes is a very nice person. Despite my scornful mockery, I do really believe that she’s probably as happy and fun as she comes across on-screen. And I s’pose I better also say that ’m sure she’s a great mother. She’s happy with this guy. Maybe he’s decent behind the swag (I said maybe).Maybe the whole sordid thing will do wonders for her career. Get her a spot on Celebrity Juice or something.  I mean, who the fuck am I to have an opinion, right?

But I just… STOP IT MELANIE SYKES! GO BE EROTIC IN PRIVATE!

Note: I began this piece without thinking. I subsequently got carried away. I have since come to realise how utterly irrelevant and fluffy it is… And I’m so very sorry.

The Solution To All Things…

Google is amazing. Google is the king of the search engines. I mean, how often do you hear someone say, “let’s Yahoo! It” or “let’s Bing it”. Doesn’t happen. Google offers us the answers to any question that we may have. It doesn’t care how ridiculous it is. It doesn’t judge.

Recently, my cat was looking a bit poorly. She was squinting and her eye was running. So, predictably enough, away with me to Google to type in “why are my cat’s eyes running?”. Probably an infection was the gist of the 783,000 answers it returned in 0.25 seconds.

But, in between bouts of helping the world find it’s answers and changing it’s logo to honour the anniversaries of things I have mostly never heard of, Google has questions of it’s own. Whether King G actually wants to know or if it’s asking on behalf of an anonymous majority, I’m not sure. But, it’s a beautiful day outside, so what else would I be at but doing my small part to get the answers?

In an awesome show of man and machine working together to educate the world, I started the questions, Google finished ‘em and then we worked together to find the answers. We did ten and then I got a sore back from being curled over this laptop and we decided to conclude. SO! Here we go…

When can a man… Hit a woman?

In short, never. But, that goes with the understanding that it is also never “legally” acceptable for a woman to hit a man.

According to wiki answers, “Hitting or killing someone is against the law, always, regardless of the situation. In some cases it is ‘excused’ by the concept of self-defense. Self defense is not a right. In certain situations it may be permissible by law.”

Now, I know what you’re thinking; What if she’s being an absolute, total bitch? What if she crashed your car? What if she wiped your itunes? What if she served you Greek salad for dinner? What if she says she doesn’t like your best friend?

Apparently… still not okay. Note that this piece is fixed exclusively on “hitting”. I can neither confirm or deny that it is okay to gouge, bite, headbutt or scratch.

Why do people… Hate Nickleback?

Nickleback, the Canadian rock band led by Chad Kroeger and responsible for the song, ‘How You Remind Me’, (Never made it as a wise man.” ‘member it?) have sold over 50 million albums over the course of their incredibly successful 17 years in the biz. However, despite undeniable success, people fucking hate them.

While Nickleback claim status as a rock band, many aficionados dispute this, criticising them for being “poppy”, commercial and repetitive.

Nickleback is the band that everyone loves to hate. Hating them, hating Chad Kroeger and his arrogance, hating the songs, it’s all a big, popular, communal way of saying what Kurt Cobain said way back before he shot himself in the face; “Corporate Rock Sucks”. Funny when one considers that everything about Nickleback and Kroeger (eh!) screams “WE’RE EMULATING GRUNGE!”

Except that while bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Alice In Chains garnered success through luck and determination, Nickleback have ridden their coattails, emerging in 1995, and making every move in a calculated and very deliberate manner. Instead of distaining popularity, as the punks from the 70s determined is the cool thing to do, Kroeger embraces it and pretends to hate it.

So, to conclude, people hate Nickleback because they are corporate rock sell outs who stick to a formula and premeditate every fraction of their careers. Mind you, they’ve made a few pound.

How much does… An abortion cost?

It depends.

Here in good ol’ Catholic, God-fearing Ireland, abortion is illegal unless the mother’s life is threatened by continuing gestation.

But get this, abortion is FREE on the NHS! Who knew?! You need to have two referrals from the doctors and meet conditions of The Abortion Act 1967. Alas, “I’m just not a baby person” probably wont get you an abortion on the NHS.

Private abortions in the UK range from around £500 to £1000 depending on various factors.

A quick search tells us that in the US, “A 2001 study conducted by the Guttmacher Institute found that the average overall cost of an abortion in the United States was $468.”

So, you know, don’t just be running out and paying full-whack for your abortion. Shop around, get the best value, times are hard. Google wont judge you.

At what point does… CPR become necrophilia?

It doesn’t.

If we’re gonna be all anal about it (absolutely no pun intended so don’t even think it!), then I’ll tell you that, technically, necrophilia is an attraction to a corpse.

When we perform CPR on someone, compressing their chest, we are manually pumping that person’s heart, keeping oxygen flowing to the brain and thus, keeping them alive. Ergo, CPR is always performed on a living person. Unless of course, you start performing it on someone who’s already been dead for two hours. Then maybe I’d be concerned about your sexual tendencies. Otherwise, work away my life-saving friends!

Is it legal… To own a monkey in Ireland?

Ah the age old quandary. People have been wondering about the legality of pet monkeys in Ireland for generations.

The answer is yes. You can have a pet monkey in Ireland. You can even get them in the Buy & Sell.

What would happen if I ran… Over a ninja?

Another age old question. I’ve never come across a ninja on the roads myself personally. I’ve also never heard of anyone coming across a ninja whilst on a driving excursion ever. But who am I to say that it doesn’t or cannot happen?

Google brought me to Yahoo! Answers, and there, one very clever guy, who definitely sounded like he spoke from experience said this:

Basically, you laugh to yourself and think you succeed; but you don’t. A number of things can happen:

-If it’s a nice ninja, you just die. You just die right then and there. Just drop down dead.
-If it’s a spiteful ninja, you’ll die a long and painful death. This could take up an hour, a day, or just until you find a way to kill yourself (because you WILL want the pain to end.)
-If it’s a horny ninja, you will die of internal injuries after he rapes you in the *** with his giant blade-penis.
-If it’s a ninja who had some bad luck in a recent relationship, you will die of blood loss after he cuts your scrotum off.

I mean, that all sounds pretty awful. And that’s me taught to drive more cautiously and always, ALWAYS, be aware of crossing ninjas.

Do children… have rights?

Yes they do. Contrary to popular belief, children in 2012 do have rights. What’s more, they’ve got feckin’ loads of ’em!

Children have the right to a name and nationality. They have the right to adequate standard of living. They have the right to healthcare, education and services. They have the right to play and recreation. They have a right to a balanced diet. Children have a right to protection from abuse, neglet, exploitation and discrimination. They have the right to participate in communities. They have the right to be helped first in a disaster. They’ve got the right to have their best interests considered in decisions. They have a right to have a say in decisions. Aw man, there’s tons more.

Kids are so lucky!

What is wrong… With Zac in Emmerdale?

Zac’s got pancreatic cancer guys.

Back in December, Emmerdale did a storyline in which Cain Dingle was attacked. It later came to light that it was Zac who attacked him. Imagine! He attacked his own son. Anyways, it was all grand until Zac started getting really depressed and drinking heavily. Racked with guilt, he lost his job at Home Farm and started behaving very erratically and causing poor aul’ Lisa to become very worried about him. A few weeks later, unwell, Zac went to the doctor. He was sent for scans and it was subsequently revealed that he had pancreatic cancer.

Now… Isn’t that sad? Also, I’d like to clarify that I don’t actually watch that muck.

Is it okay… To eat my period?

I didn’t even hit “Search” on this one. I don’t want to know any more. I don’t want to know who asked the question in the first place and I don’t want to know why. Because the answer is no. The answer is no. The answer will always be no. No. It is not ever okay to eat your period under any circumstances. Period.

How do kids… Make money fast?

A video on youtube says that all kids need to do to make money fast is to click the link below. Says they could earn $100,000 in five weeks. I thought about clicking on the link but noting that “adding comments has been disabled for this video”, I decided not to bother.

In my own experience, seem’s the quickest way for a kid to make a FORTUNE is to make either their First Holy Communion or their Confirmation. I know people who save just so they can afford all the hand-outs that have to be given to children in this country every May.

I’m thinking the Catholic church should come up with some other passage for us to go through that involves everyone we know giving us cards with money in ’em. Like a baptism refresher in our mid-twenties or something. Be class.

Now. Don’t you feel educated? Next time your friend is worried that she wont be able to afford that abortion, next time you find yourself in a dispute with an 8-year-old over their god-given rights, next time you see someone hesitate before starting CPR or you consider getting a pet monkey for your niece’s birthday, be confident. You’re armed with the answers. And you’re there to help.

Stars In The Sky…

Top Gun is one of my all time favourite movies. There’s two and a half reasons for this:

1)     I really love airplanes

2)     I really love the military

½) I really love Kenny Loggins

So today, I have been mostly thinking about the Top Gun sequel and how amazing it’s going to be. If there’s one awesome movie that can be extra-awesomized by the 21^st century it’s Top Gun. A dude from Lockheed confirmed the other day that Maverick will be back and he’s apparently gonna be an F-35 test pilot.

I read this article: http://gizmodo.com/5889737/top-gun-2-is-real-and-stars-a-plane-that-doesnt-fly. These guys obvs don’t like Tom Cruise (which is okay. He’s pretty mental and tiny. He does have a pilots licence though, inspired by this very role.) but they also don’t seem very keen on the F-35, which, I guess, is also fair enough. It’s a notoriously flawed aircraft. But let’s and remember that this is not real life. This is Hollywood. And Hollywood is trying to make a modern, 21^st century movie about fighter pilots. The F-35 is about as modern as it gets before we stumble into drone territory. And let’s face facts, no one wants to see a Top Gun sequel in which Mav flies the aircraft using a remote control. It just wouldn’t be the same. So can we all please just quit “curmudgeoning” and hope that Hollywood will do us good? Paramount is in. Bruckheimer is in. Cruise is in. No word yet on the chick from ‘Witness’ and I’d be very doubtful that Val Kilmer would have any interest, but sure Iceman was only ever a bastard anyways.

Eh, so yeah, anyways, the point was that I was thinking about Top Gun and then I started thinking about airplanes in general which got me to thinking about pilots and how you have to have so much money to become one. And then I was thinking that if I had loads of money I’d fo’ sho’ be a pilot. And then I was thinking about how much money celebrities have and so obviously then I was thinking about celebrities who use some of that money to actually become pilots.

And this is the resulting top ten…

#10. PRINCE HARRY

Prince Harry. He’s the one that did not get married last year. He’s also the one that is a bit of craic. If I was having a party (and if I thought he’d come) I’d definitely invite Prince Harry. He was caught smoking pot. He dressed up as a Nazi for a fancy dress party that time. He called one of his military colleagues a “paki” and a “raghead”. He’s been known to physically attack paparazzi. And he dated that little bleach blonde, orange skinned skaaaaaank, Chelsea Davy. Like I said, Pile O’ Craic.

Anyways, this isn’t about him being a laugh. This is about him being a helicopter pilot. But not just any helicopter pilot. Oh no, these days, little Harry who looked so sad and lost at his mum’s funeral way back when, is now in training to pilot a  muthafuckin’ Apache attack helicopter.

The Apache is famous for being the baddest, flyest, most awesomely awesome piece of weaponry that the military has to offer and training to fly one is no mean feat. Harry initially learned to fly back in 2009 and has been working on his Type Conversion for the Apache ever since with hopes of returning to the frontline in Afghanistan as soon as he’s done training.

That’s much cooler than Prince William’s career as a Search and Rescue pilot.

#9. JAKE PAVELKA

Jake Pavelka. You don’t know who he is. Neither do I really. He was on the American reality TV series, ‘The Bachelor’ in 2010 and, more recently, he was on ‘Dancing With The Stars’ where he did not win. At the moment I belive he is appearing as the celebrity guest host for the Chippendales in Las Vegas. Awesome.

But, before Jake became a womanising, fame hungry television personality and prized jerk, he was a real life pilot flying commercially for Atlantic Southeast Airlines.

Jake learned to fly when he was 12 and went on to become a Flight Instructor before landing a job with ASA, also known as Delta Connection.

Recently, US Magazine reported that Jake’s 15 minutes of fame are up and he’s back in the captain’s seat for Delta. Good enough. I was going to say he was pretty dumb to give up the day job in the first place, but then I thought about all the money he must have made in the past few years and I’ve decided he was actually clever enough.

#8. JAMES FRANCO

Props to James Franco. He’s a fine young man. He’s an actor, we know this. He’s also a producer and director. He’s a model. He’s a philanthropist. He’s a writer. He’s a painter. And he’s also a very highly educated dude. He has a degree in English with creative writing from UCLA. He went to Columbia to study writing. He studied filmmaking at NYU. He is a PhD student at Yale. He is due to attend Houston University this year to study for a doctorate in literature and creative writing. He’s so smart it’s kind of insane.

You may wonder why James is only #8 on this list, especially when you consider what a genius he is. Well, the reason is just that I feel that he lacks any real passion for aviation. Franco learned how to fly in 2006. He did it as research for his role in the movie, ‘Flyboys’ in which he played a WWI fighter pilot. He was asked about it in an interview and had this to say, “I’ve become kind of obsessive about research. I think part of it’s just filling time. I signed onto this at least four months in advance. So I thought, “Well, I have the time, I might as well get my license. So I went every day and I got it.”

See what I mean? There’s no love there.

Watch him be underwhelmed about the whole thing here (if the narrators’ dull voice doesn’t put you to sleep first): 

A much more romantic tale would be that he discovered his love for flight whilst interning at Lockheed Martin in his youth. Alas, it’s not the case. He did intern at Lockheed Martin in his youth, but he discovered a love for maths and not flying. Good one.

So why give him a place on the list at all? D’uh, coz he’s pretty.

#7. ZACH BRAFF

I don’t need to tell you who Zach Braff is. You already know. But, did you know that in addition to being a very funny guy (follow him, go on) Zach Braff is also a licensed pilot? Probably not.

Zach learned to fly in 2008 and got his PPL in November of that year. He says he did it because he had become a nervous flier and wanted to conquer his fears. Says J.D:  “During a particularly horrible patch of travel, I decided I’d take flying lessons. I’d get to know the unknown by unknowing what I had known. Instead of running from my new fear, I’d saunter right up to it and tickle fear’s balls with my peace-sign fingers.”

Turns out it worked a treat. Since then J.D has taken to the air like a duck to water. In 2010, he flew cross-country for the very first time especially to see Ellen… 

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He’s not affiliated with any organisations. He doesn’t fly commercially. He owns a single-engine Cirrus, nothing too swanky, which he uses to fly on sunny days. Good for you Scrubs. Good for you.

#6. ANGELINA JOLIE

I’m no feminist but part of me feels like I have to include Angelina on this list just because there’s no other women on it. To be honest, Angelina sort of irritates me. She’s just a bit too intense and serious. Like, I’d say you’d be hard pushed to get a bit of craic out of Angelina Jolie. But that’s besides the point. The point being that Angelina is an aviatrix. Mostly we forget that she flies. Probably because she doesn’t push it on us like some of the higher placed names on this list. But she does.

Angelina first learned to fly in 2005, apparently at the insistence of Maddox, who loved to go to the airport and watch the planes. Since then she has kept up her hobby and told Vanity Fair that she loves it so much because “it’s the only place I’m completely alone, up in the air, detached from everything.” Fair enough I s’pose.

But, of course, the gothic one has her detractors. There’s a barrage of naysayers who deem that Angelina is not experienced enough to fly the Cirrus SR-22 that she splashed out $360,000 on. Some instructor guy from California stuck is oar in saying, “Letting an inexperienced, novice pilot like Angelina Jolie fly it is like giving a Ferrari to a 16-year-old boy. It’s a recipe for disaster. It is the fastest plane in its class. It climbs like a missile. Miss Jolie should fly something more sedate for a while. This airplane is a thoroughbred that needs experience to control.”

Personally I think it ain’t got nuffin’ to do with anyone what kind of plane she flies. If Lara Croft wants to fly an SR-22 and she’s licensed to do so then Lara Croft should fly an SR-22. Heck, if I had her money, I’d take my pick aswell.

Despite being pretty low-key with her aviation interests, Angelina did do a story with Vogue in which she posed alongside a P51. She donned a couture outfit, posed a bit and then hiked up the crisp white pencil skirt, kicked off her heels and took her interviewer for a fast paced flight around the California desert. The resulting pictures are pretty cool I have to admit.

#5. DEXTER HOLLAND

Dexter Holland. You know him. And if you don’t, you’re wrong because yes, you actually do. He’s the singer with The Offspring. He’s pretty fly for a white guy. But he’s also a white guy who flies.

Seems our Dexter is your quintessential overachiever. Apparently being the singer for the worlds favourite pop punk group just is not enough for this Boris Becker lookalike. Nah, Dexter’s got the smarts too! He got a degree in biology from the University of Southern California and then went on to get a masters in molecular biology. In 2006 he ran the Los Angeles marathon. He owns Nitro Records as well as his own brand of hot sauce: Gringo Bandito. And hey whaddya know, he’s also a certified pilot.

Dexter is pretty low-key sort of a guy (well, as low key as a bleach blonde 47-year-old rock singer who owns three aircraft can be). What I mean to say is that Dex doesn’t seem to really give a shit if we know anything about his aviation interests or not. He doesn’t dress up in a pilots uniform and he doesn’t have any association with an airline. Seems like he legit just really likes to fly recreationally. So don’t be expecting any big fanfare at your local airport next time The Offspring roll into town. Just keep an eye out for Dexters Cessna Citation jet with the anarchy symbol on the tail.

#4. MORGAN FREEMAN

Who doesn’t love Morgan Freeman? The mere mention of his name incites the brain to replay his voice in ones head. He’s the definition of a living legend. Shawshank Redemption. Se7en. Million Dollar Baby. March of the Penguins. Invictus. His name is trademarked. He’s environmentally conscious. He’s politically active. He speaks fluent French. He’s brilliant at golf. And he flies planes.

Morgan Freeman wanted to be a fighter pilot when he was a kid. So enamored with flight was he that he joined the Air Force as soon as he finished school. But things didn’t work out for poor Morgan. He ended up working as an Air Force mechanic. Not quite the adrenaline-fuelled career he was after. So, he swapped his dream of being a pilot for a dream of being an actor. And as we all know, that one panned out pretty nicely for him.

It wasn’t until 2002, when he was 65 years-old, that Morgans’ passion was reignited. At the provocation of a pilot friend, he began taking lessons in July of 2002, qualifying with his PPL in October of the same year and by the summer of 2003, Morgan was up and running with a multi-engine rating.

Never one to escape a bit of bad luck (remember his car crash in 2008? No? It was pretty serious. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1041570/Pictured-The-horrific-car-crash-nearly-killed-Morgan-Freeman.html), Freeman got into a spot of bother in 2004 when he broke altitude rules around Teterboro airport in New Jersey. He was banned from flying for 45 days. Naughty, naughty… But Morgan took it like a champ and used the time to get a bit of filming done before taking to the skies again.

Like Harrison Ford, Morgan did an ad for AOPA. Here it is: 

These days Morgan is the proud owner of two Cessnas and a pretty fancy Emivest corporate jet which he uses to fly himself from a to b (“It is so much easier than being strip-searched.”).

Saying all this, Morgan is 75 years-old. So just…. be careful. That’s all.

#3. HARRISON FORD

Word on the street (web) is that Harrison Ford is worth in excess of $200 million. Not really surprising when you consider the fact that he was Han Solo AND Indiana Jones (two movie franchises that I have approximately zero interest in.) For the longest time I’ve pegged Harrison for a sharper, more miserable and less cuddly version of Richard Gere. You see paparazzi pictures of him out and about with Ally McBeal and they look like they’re having a good time NEVER! She trails behind him, arms crossed, stomach growling with the hunger and he attempts to hide his scowl behind a pair of shades. But there’s a but. Harrison Ford is actually a pretty stand up guy and as far as celebrity aviators go, he’s right up there. And here’s the why…

Harrison first began learning to fly in the 60s but he wasn’t able to afford to keep up the training. It wasn’t until he had made a few bob from the movies that he was able to fully pursue his passion. And pursue it, Harry did. Today he’s licensed to fly both fixed wing and rotor aircraft. He owns six planes and a helicopter (“I have more airplanes than it’s fair for anybody to have”), regularly attending fly-ins in Wyoming where he has a ranch and sometimes provides emergency helicopter services for local authorities (he once rescued an ailing hiker from a mountainside. How awesome would it be to be rescued by Harrison Ford?!). He was also one of the charitable who stepped up when the earthquake rocked Haiti in 2010, flying in medical supplies and volunteers on behalf of Operation Smile.

When he’s not too busy flying himself and his co-stars to various movie sets, Harrison also spreads his philanthropic wings by acting as an honorary board member for Wings of Hope, the worlds biggest aviation based charity. From 2004 to 2009 (when he was replaced by Captain Sully. Yay for Captain Sully!) he was the chairman for the Young Eagles program which is a voluntary organization that gives children the opportunity to fly and to learn about aviation. During his time as chairman, old man Ford flew more than 300 young eagles in his various airplanes. Now everybody tilt your head and say, “awwwww.”

Such is Harrisons eminence in the aviation community, that he was invited to fly VIP with the US Navy’s elite display team, The Blue Angels. He flew backseat with Lt. Cmdr. Kevin ‘Kojak’ Davis, (who was killed during an airshow a year later). Here’s the vid: 

Harrison also did an ad promoting general aviation for the Aircraft Owners And Pilots Association AAAAAAAND, in 2010, the National Aeronautics Association awarded him with their most esteemed honour, The Wright Brothers Memorial Trophy, an award established in 1948 to honour those who have demonstrated “significant public service of enduring value to aviation in the United States.” 

Now… Don’t you wish you were as cool as Harrison Ford? I’ll end on a quote from the man himself. This is a gem: “In my life I have two roles. One of them everyone knows about. It provides a means to the other, which I prefer.”

#2. JOHN TRAVOLTA

Face/Off. That’s a great movie. And Jay Travs is a great man. Okay, so maybe he’s a crazyface scientologist and yes, he might have a devastating array of gay rumours surrounding him but that’s for Kelly Preston to worry about. Me? I’m more concerned with his efforts in the sky. And no one, NO ONE, is more showboaty about their aviation skills than John Travolta.

Danny Zuko/Vincent Vega/Tony Manero/Michael the Angel first got his wings in 1974 and has since spent many an hour contributing to global warming in a major way whilst carting his ever growing entourage (waistline) around the world in a Boeing 707 named “Jett Clipper”.

Travs is an ambassador for Qantas (he even did a Qantas in-flight safety video) and, in 2010, in a magnificent display of heroism/desperate bid for a decent photo op, the Jaymeister flew his 707 to Haiti to deliver a fuckload of emergency supplies to the stricken people.

But… Let’s talk about his house for just a second. It’s a heckin’ airport house! I kid you not. John “James Ubriacco” Travolta  lives in this house: That’s a control tower on the roof there. That’s his Qantas 707 parked in the “garage” (couldn’t you have built something a little bigger, Jay?). The smaller one must just be the one he uses for tippin’ about in. You know, for the school run, to the shop for a litre of milk, that kind of thing). The house is in Florida in a place called Jumbolair Aviation Estates. Residents of Jumbolair have the reassurance of a gated community and access to two runways. They have their own (crummy) website and host community events like rodeos and barbeques and shit to which I bet Jay Travs goes to approximately NONE. But that’s okay because he’s John Travolta and he’s better than you.

#1 BRUCE DICKINSON

A’ight, Imma be honest, John Travolta was the original #1 on this list. I was all done with him and his awesome house and his massive plane. But then I started writing about Bruce. And I realised that I couldn’t justify placing him in the #2 position (Yeah, coz this rundown is so massively relevant to all involved!) when he really deserves #1.

For those who just aren’t sure, Bruce Dickinson is the lead singer with Iron Maiden (I LOVE Iron Maiden!)  He’s a great talent as well as a decent guy and an all round heckin’ inspiration! In 2009, ‘Intelligent Life’ magazine said that Bruce was a living example of a polymath. Don’t worry, I didn’t know what it meant either. But google has since informed me that, “a polymath is someone of wide ranging knowledge and learning.” It translates as “having learned much”. In short, my main man Brucey D is a muthafuckin’ genius.

Aside from being the singer in one of the world’s biggest rock bands, Bruce also has a degree in history and an honorary music doctrate. He is an avid fencer, competing internationally and he founded a fencing equipment company called ‘Duellist’. He is a writer, with two books and a movie on his resume. He is also a successful radio host and television presenter. And to top it all off, Bruce is a commercial pilot.

Where John Travolta uses his skills and money to haul his own ass around the world in a jet, Bruce puts his skills to a considerably more considerate use. He was a captain for British airline, Astraeus, flying passengers to their destinations around the world in a 757. He also captains Ed Force One, carrying his bandmates, their crew, equipment, and sometimes even fans from city to city on Iron Maiden tours. In 2006 he flew around 200 British citizens home from Lebanon when there was major conflict going down. In 2008 he stepped up again and flew 180 stranded British citizens home from Egypt. He flew troops out of Afghanistan aaaaaaaaand, after Hurricane Irene last year, Bruce was one of the first pilots ready to fly out and help. I mean, come aaaaaaan!!! What a stand-up guy!

He made this awesomeo TV show called ‘Flying Heavy Metal’, which I have on DVD somewhere (actually it’s pristinely stored in my aviation/military dvd case along with other winners like ‘Ross Kemp In Afghanistan’ and ‘Air Crash Investigation’) in which he took a look at, and often flew, different types of aircraft.

After Astraeus went defunct just there last November, Bruce had quite a bit to say;

“I’m amused that the less well informed seem to be portraying me as having to resort to busking on the streets following the closure of Astraeus. The more astute members of my circle are aware there’s rather more going on in my world. Firstly, I’m already working on a plan to save Astraeus, or at least create a new business with jobs for my friends and former colleagues. This is a serious plan involving people who are very good at their jobs. Secondly, I am also involved in a project which could mean the creation of as many as 1,500 jobs in aerospace in South Wales. Thirdly, I’m a long way into the development of a flight training company – Real World Aviation – which will be perfectly placed to help address the aviation industry’s perennial challenge: producing new and qualified pilots.”

Yipes. And all in the same year that Iron Maiden’s ‘The Final Frontier’ album went to number one in TWENTY EIGHT MUTHAFUCKIN’ COUNTRIES! Good. Man. Bruce.

He’s a class act. An inspiration, I said. Who said rock stars can’t be good role models?! Superiority, thy name is Bruce.

HONORABLE MENTIONS ALSO GO TO:

– Dr. Phil McGraw who has been flying since he was 16

– Clint Eastwood who flies helicopters to avoid traffic

– Giselle Bundchen who also flies helicopters (fair play)

– Kris Kristofferson who worked as a helicopter pilot both in the military and commercially

– Kurt Russell who got his PPL back in 1992

And finally, a shout out to the late, great Patrick Swayze who flew as a private pilot for years and once miraculously escaped injury when he crash landed his Cessna on a suburban road in Arizona. His wiki page says this: “According to the police report, witnesses said that Swayze appeared to be extremely intoxicated and asked for help to remove evidence—an open bottle of wine and a 30-pack of beer—from the crash site.”…  Hahaha!! Good man Pat! That’s the way to do it!

Let’s Talk About Banksy coz We’re Super Cool and Artsy…

Wait! Before you go any further I feel that I must offer some kind of warning. If you haven’t seen ‘Exit Through The Gift Shop’ and you plan on it, you probably shouldn’t read any more of this article. Imma try not to spoil any major plotlines here but I can’t guarantee, so… Heads up!

I watched that film, ‘Through The Gift Shop’ by Banksy last night. It was actually pretty good. Alls I knew about it was that it was nominated for an Oscar and that there’s speculation that it’s all a big hoax by Banksy.

Usually I find it disappointing when I find out that things I believe in are bogus. Like ‘Catfish’. I watched that under strict instructions not to do any research beforehand. And I really liked it. When Nev and the gang landed at yer ones’ house I was fairly certain that some INTENSE SHIT WAS GONNA GO DOWN!!! In hindsight, what actually went down was relatively tame when compared with what I was expecting (I dunno, like Nevs’ mam in a shallow grave or some shit). But anyway, that’s still a good movie. I’ve watched it several times since and still enjoy it. Anyways, the first time, I did what I always do after I watch a movie and that’s to go and look it up online, find out when and where and how and why these films are made. And I find out that there’s mass speculation that ‘Catfish’ was a hoax. You know, they’re saying that it all just worked out too well for it to be real. Like why were they filming Nevs’ Facebook use so early on? It just all played out so nicely. I dunno, maybe it is a hoax, maybe they just got lucky with how it all went down. I still maintain that ‘Catfish’ is a great watch, but it’s definitely disappointing to have the seed of doubt planted.

Anyways, so it’s the same kind of deal with ‘Exit Through The Gift Shop’. It’s a documentary about this guy, Thierry Guetta (No relation to David, unfortunately) who films everything and then he gets involved in and subsequently obsessed with street art. He starts to make a film about it, discovers Banksy and makes a film. But Banksy thinks his film is shit and ends up turning the camera on Guetta as he strives to make a name for himself as an artist.

J'aime les baguettes et danser dans la bibliotheque avec ma moustache!

All in all it’s pretty interesting stuff. I was intrigued by Banksy anyway, which is why I watched the film in the first place. So afterwards, I planted by butt in front of the computer to do a bit of research. And I find out what? That there’s mass speculation that the whole film is a massive hoax by Banksy.

But instead of being disappointed at the thought of being conned by another documentary, the notion that it might be fake just intrigues me even more. I mean, is Banksy just a lucky vandal or is he actually an out and out genius? I’m leaning for  the latter.

The suspicion is that Thierry Guetta (or Mr. Brainwash, if you will) is just a ruse for Banksy himself; that he got this guy to act as Mr. Brainwash and that Banksy actually created all the artwork himself. Like with ‘Catfish’, the story works out very well. This guy just happens to film everything. He just happens upon street art. He just happens to get hooked up with Banksy. Banksy just happens to allow him to be the first ever person to film him at work. Thierry just happens to be a very comical and exaggerated Frenchman. It all just happens to go down in such a way that it makes a great documentary.

Banksy as he appears in the film... Good one..

The truth is, I really don’t care if this one is a fake. Roger Ebert reviewed this movie and said, “The widespread speculation that “Exit Through The Gift Shop” is a hoax only adds to its fascination.”

Thing is though, I don’t know if Banksy is actually all that. Now, don’t get me wrong. I think his work is inspired. He knows how to make a blatant statement and there’s no denying that his images are iconic. But there’s also no denying that the images he creates are pretty similar to those of the French street-artist who came before him, Blek Le Rat.

In the film we see Mr. Brainwash creating a mind-blowingly successful art show without once actually making a piece himself. He comes up with the idea and then he hires people to make it happen. I was watching it thinking, “Sure I could do that.” (But then I tend to think that about a lot of art.) Mr. Brainwash took the idea from Banksy and Banksy took it from Blek Le Rat.

Blek - Banksy - Mr. Brainwash

See, the fing wot makes Banksy so crazy fascinating, for me anyway, is his elusiveness. He’s been defacing properties around the world for a long time now. But we still don’t know who he is. His identity has remained a secret through triumph and controversy. And that has earned him a cult status. It makes him intriguing. The less we know of him, the more we want.

I think that if we knew who Banksy was we wouldn’t have half as much interest in his work. It’s his status as an anonymous renegade that makes him so hip. Over the years there has been vast speculation over his identity. Various photos have emerged claiming to show the real Banksy. Problem is, Banksy himself has had absolutely nothing to say about it. No comment. And less we get confirmation from the man himself, we’re non the wiser. All he has to do to protect himself is deny, deny, deny. Genius.

Banksy?

I like to think that it’s not a case of him being so good that noone’s ever caught him working, but rather, that after going anonymously for this long, there’s enough respect for Banksy that people (that’s us!) will keep his secret. Like, I reckon that if I was ambling down the street and I happened across Banksy, spray can and stencil in hand, that I wouldn’t tell. Actually, you’d feel a bit epic wouldn’t ya?! Like you were part of some awesome club of people who know who Banksy is. That’d be cool.

On one hand we desperately want to know who the renegade master is but on the other, we know that if we had a face to put to the art, the intrigue would be lost, Banksy would no longer be “the elusive Banksy” and we’d be left with just another pop culture artist like Shepard Fairey or Mr. Brainwash himself.

And that’s why the film is so captivating. Maybe it is real. Or maybe it’s just another genius piece of work concocted by the man who’s been having the last laugh since the 1990s. Either way, I like not knowing who Banksy is. I like not knowing if ‘Exit Through The Gift Shop’ is real or not and I like the comfort that comes with knowing that Banksy is out there somewhere, making a mockery of us all with his superior intelligence.

Eazy, Breezy, Beautiful…

I’m having a bit of a conflict of emotions. You know Chris Brown?

I’m talking about the very first one there: American entertainer (Born 1989), American R&B singer. Well, I mean, Chris Brown is a bad man, right? First, he did this to Rihanna:

Then he got in trouble for saying, “ya’ll niggers is gay” to paparazzi TWICE! Aaaaaand then he went on Good Morning America where he was questioned about what he did to Rihanna (see above) and then apparently went apeshit bananas backstage over it all.

So, Chris Brown is a jerk. I think we can all agree on that one. He’s a spoilt brat who got rich and famous at a young age and has an ego rivalled only by Kanye “word-slingin’ muthafuckin’ genius” West.

But the problem, my friends, is this: Breezy’s got the skills to pay those bills!

After the whole Beating The Metaphorical Shit Out Of Rihanna debacle, I was emphatic about my feelings for Mr Brown. I came over all principled and was all, “any man who’ll lay hands on you once will do it again!” and “Well, I’ll tell you this much, his career is over!”  I swore to John Candy that I wouldn’t be tolerating any of this cocky little thugs’ music ever again.

But then…

Damnit Janet! I’m tryin’ to hate this kid! What a tune! After that came ‘Yeah 3x’ and ‘Beautiful People’ and ‘Look At Me Now’ and ‘Next 2 You’ (with the crazy expensive looking video).

Breezy has been doing some serious damage control in the most awesomest way possible; through the medium of music.

Like, he’s clearly still a tool. Chris Brown literally thinks the sun shines out of his ass. He’s absolutely unapologetic for his general bad behaviour and demonstrates this with consistency. He never ever learns his lesson and he’s got a swagger to cripple nations. Except now, influenced and very probably brainwashed by the gnarliness (I’m bringing ‘gnarly’ back) of the tunes, I kinda like that he’s a little prick. I enjoy an exaggerated character. I take amusement in misbehaviour. These are possibly issues I need to take up with my therapist (Note-To-Self: move to America and get a therapist).

Obviously, I don’t condone bad behaviour / I kiiiiiinda do when it’s for comic effect, but, you know, it’s hard to hate on someone who dance like this:

See, I can’t dance for shit so I’m super impressed by people who can!

I really want to hate Chris Brown. He ticks all the boxes. He’s violent. He’s cocky. He’s rude. He’s ignorant. He’s pretentious. He’s egotistical.  But I just can’t do it. I mean, even Joe Jonas said that he’s “such a talented dude” and we all know that a Jonas Brother wouldn’t tell us a lie.

It’s the same with Jamie Foxx. He’s an awful bastard. There’s nothing sweet about Jamie. You just know that he lives in a big fuck-off mansion somewhere and he hangs out there smoking cigars and weed, shagging ridiculously good-looking women and generally acting like a total prick. But hey! I aint hatin’! I’m a Jamie Foxx fan. Why?… Because  he is also in possession of the cababilities to ensure that the bills are paid.

Jamie is an actor (Ray, Jarhead, Collateral, etc), a comedian, a singer, he hosts his own radio show. He’s a jack-of-all-trades and gosh darn it, wouldn’t ya know, he’s really good at all of them! I mean, sure he said that black people just lent Michael Jackson to white people, and sure he said that Miley Cyrus was a white bitch and should do some heroin and catch chlamydia, but like, he also did this:

And let’s be honest, sure ya couldn’t fault that. It’s even got Jake “SEX” Gyllenhaal in the video. So like, if Jake Gyllenhaal liked him enough to be in Jarhead with him AND be in his music video then he’s gotta have some saving grace in his personality. It’s probably that, when he’s not being a racist bastard, he’s being a funny bastard. Everyone likes a funny bastard.

Lookit, the whole point of this post is just to try and justify being a Chris Brown fan for myself really.

“Yeah he’s a domestic abuser buuuut…” 

Bottom line is that I need to stand up and accept it. I need to be proud and say MY NAME IS HOLLY AND I LIKE CHRIS BROWN.

And you do aswell a little bit don’t ya?!…. Don’t ya?!…. Yeah ya do! Good for you! High Five!

But who's the bigger bastard?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Very Best of Hollywood’s Worst…

We all love a good celebrity badass. I’m not talking Ethan Hunt scaling buildings in ‘Mission: Impossible’ badass. I’m talking about Prince Harry ‘smoking weed, calling people “Paki” and dressing up as a Nazi’ badass.

Sure we can all shake our fingers and tut tut tut at the idiocy of naughty celebrity actions. But secretly, or publicly in my case, we thoroughly enjoy a badly behaved star. That’s not to say that I agree with Tom Cruise bashing postpartum depression or with David Hasslehoff drunkenly nosing through the biggest hamburger of all time. No, I don’t agree with it. But I do get great entertainment from it. C’mon, so do you!

There’s just something kind of endearing about a celebrity who just does not give a fuck!  Like when Eddie Murphy absolutely denied that Scary Spices’ baby was his even though it was so obviously his. Eddie said no way. That was his story and he was sticking to it. His quote was this, “I don’t know whose child that is until it comes out and has a blood test. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Ouch! The child came out and the blood test was had and whaddya know! Eddie Murphy was the daddy. ‘Cept he still wanted nothing to do with it. Sure he’s far too important to be associated with Scary Spice! He was The Nutty Professor for God’s sake!

Spencer Pratt is another prime example of a prick we love to hate/love. Most people want to punch him repeatedly in the ribs. He doesn’t care. He wants you to want to punch him repeatedly in the ribs. And I want him to want you to want to punch him repeatedly in the ribs. It makes for great entertainment.

How boring would it be if celebville was filled with people like Beyonce who, although immensely good at her game, seems to just live by a “no comment” policy. Bitch, I wanna know some dirt! I wanna know if you hate Rihanna! I wanna know how Jay-Z avoids consuming your entire head with his massive mouth when you kiss him! I wanna know how many fillings you have!

And so, here is my list of the boldest celebrities going and why:

10. Matthew McConaughey – Matty makes the list for something that he did a long time ago. But I don’t forget and to this day I hold Mr McConaughey in high regard for his actions. In 1999 police were called to Mattys’ home in Texas on a noise complaint. When they got there they found Matty in the nip, dancing around and playing bongos. He was high as fuck and apparently resisted arrest. Here’s his mugshot:

Hahahaha!!!! Good man Matthew! I mean, the guy was just cutting loose in his own home for crying out loud! What has the world come to when a man can’t get naked and revert to a bit of neanderthalism?! The best thing about this story is that it’s no big task to picture Matthew stoned as Marley, dancing around in the nude, at one with nature and resisting arrest in that familiar southern drawl of his. FUN!

9. Christian Bale – Ya’ll remember this one. Christian made the news in 2009 when an audio clip of him from the set of Terminator Salvation was released. He was a little peeved with one of the crew members who had “ruined his concentration” on set. Bale’s reaction was to hurl abuse and profanity at the poor guy for like, ages. Anyways, it was all VERY funny. I could post you the actual clip but this remix is way better.

8. Matthew Fox – Imma start by saying I don’t watch Lost. Well, I watched the first series and then got all confused and uh… lost. So I have no basis to back up an opinion on Matthew Fox. But then I heard this story. Just last August it was reported that Jack Shephard himself had punched a bus driver in Ohio. Whatever. But no wait! It was a female bus driver! SHUTUP!!!!! Yup, apparently Matthew was at a stag party in Cleveland and was told he was too drunk to get on the bus. He proceeded to punch the female driver in the “chest and pelvic area”. For some bizarro reason no charges were filed and the smug wee prick got away with it with ne’er an apology or official statement in sight. But it’s good to know that he’s the type of guy that will not just punch a woman, but will aim specifically for the boobs and crotch. Slick Matt. Real slick.

7. James Brown – Ah Jimmy. I toyed with the idea of putting Jimmy higher up on this list because, truth be told, the guy was a proper badass with an array of bad behaviour spanning the course of his lifetime. I don’t even know where to begin. Married three times, James fathered nine children… legitimately. There was an additional three that also emerged. He was repeatedly arrested on domestic violence charges throughout the 90s and 00s. There was even a horrific allegation of rape against him in which he apparently sexually assaulted a young woman at gunpoint at a roadside in 1988 (I did say horrific). But my favourite James Brown story is the one with the 1988 highspeed car chase for which he was slapped with a six year jail sentence. Police had attempted to get James to pull over  after receiving a tip that he had a gun. But Papa had a brand new bag and no intention of stopping. Instead, he led the police on a car chase on Interstate 20 that only ended when officers shot out his tires. James was convicted of carrying an unlicensed firearm, assault on a police officer, drug charges and (predictably) driving offences. His defence? “I was scared to death.” Hmmmm, not really enough to get you acquitted Jimmy, but thanks for playing, you little scamp!

6. Kanye West – Kanye is like a cartoon character. It’s almost impossible to believe that someone like him actually exists. But he does. And I’m ever so grateful for him. Aside from the obvious (Imma let you finish -gate), Kanye has gifted us with some of the best most egotistical and controversial quotes, images and actions of our generation. Like what? Well, like that time at a benefit concert for Hurricane Katrina when he said, George Bush doesn’t care about black people.” That was all. See, Kanye has a knack for keeping it short but with maximum effect. George Bush claimed that was one of the most disgusting moments of his presidency. BOOM! Nicely done Kanye. And that was only the first time he disgusted an American president! After “Imma Let You Finish” happened, this happened:

BOO YA KAH SHAH!!! That’s what’s up! I mean, if I had the President of the United States of America call me a jackass I think my life would be complete! I don’t think I’m even gonna bother telling you about the time Kanye stormed out of the AMAs when he didn’t win Best New Artist or the time he crashed the stage at the EMAs ‘coz he didn’t win Best Video or the time he got arrested for smashing up a paps camera.  You get the gist. Kanye West is on this list because his bad behaviour has provoked reactions from TWO presidents.

5. Alec Baldwin – You just know that Alec Baldwin is a short-tempered bastard. He has it written all over his face. Yet it was still shocking when, in 2007, a tape emerged of Alec’s voice on his daughters phone.

“You have made an ass out of me for the last time!” / “You answer or you get hit with a brick!” / “You think I have nothing better to do? I could be shouting shit at random people in the street, but I’m calling you!” / “I don’t care that you’re twelve or eleven or whatever! I’m a good father and you’re a pig!” / “You think this is abuse, you thoughtless pain in the ass? Get mad, you daughter of a bitch!” / “Tell your mother I said Go Fuck Yourself!”

Lickle Ireland Baldwin was eleven at the time. You know, this is exactly the kind of parenting that could make the career of a heroin addicted Vegas hooker in years to come. Mom and Dad were stars but they we’re fucking psycho! I can’t imagine my father ever speaking to me like that. My little sister NEVER answers her phone and my dad still loves her just the same. I’m sure he’d love to tell my Mom to go fuck herself a lot of the time. But he doesn’t. And that, I imagine, is exactly why I’m not a Vegas hooker.

4. R. Kelly – Oh R. Kels, you bad, bad bastard! When he’s not busy releasing such hits as ‘I Believe I Can Fly’, ‘If I Could Turn Back The Hands of Time’, ‘Ignition’, ‘The World’s Greatest’ and the epic “hip hopera” that makes up ‘Trapped In The Closet’, R. Kelly likes to spend his spare time being a prized jerk. He’s got the usual array of misdemeanors against him, including but not limited to assault (once, a victim needed 110 stitches to his face alone!), disorderly conduct and noise ordinance. But the gem came in 2002 when a tape emerged. It allegedly showed Kels doing the nasty with a 14-year-old girl. He also pee’d on her in said tape apparently. The kid defended him, saying she consented and all was fine. But c’mon, you know that wasn’t the end of it. Kels had his house searched where there were pictures uncovered. And the girl, once again, was a minor.  Kels was charged with soliciting a minor for child pornography, videotaping it and producing child pornography. And if anyone has seen Hard Candy then you’ll know that  anyone who has anything to do with child porn aint gonna get away with it. R. Kels was in trouble! So, this being a big case and all, of course it took six years to go to trial. And when it did…. R. KELLY WAS FOUND NOT GUILTY ON ALL CHARGES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WTF!!!!!!!!

This dude might actually be superman! I guess it means he’s free to add more chapters to ‘Trapped In The Closet’. Yussssssssss!

3. Bill Murray – Who doesn’t love ‘Groundhog Day’?! Or ‘Ghostbusters’? ‘Scrooged’?, ‘Ed Wood’? I personally did not care much for ‘Caddyshack’ but hey, ya can’t win ’em all. Bill Murray is one of those actors that we grew up with. He’s just always been knockin’ around. His voice is familiar and somewhat comforting in the same manner as Tom Hanks, Nicolas Cage or poor ol’ Michael Douglas. Heck, he’s an institution. But Bill Murray’s wife (sorry, sorry, EX-wife) says he’s a very bad man. SHE says that  not only is he an alcoholic, but also a drug addict, an adulterer AND an abuser. Yipes… Jennifer Butler Murray filed for divorce from Billy in 2008, citing the following reasons: “adultery, addiction to marijuana and alcohol, abusive behavior, physical abuse, sexual addictions and frequent abandonment.” She said that he frequently left the country and engaged in sexual liasons and on one occasion he came to her house where he hit her in the face and told her she was lucky he didn’t kill her.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggghhhhh look at him there! Ya know it’s true! That right there is a guy that you can tell loves to get drunk and drive around the house on a mobility scooter wearing only a bathrobe while shouting abuse at the staff! All in fun! So his missus got her divorce (and a restraining order against him) and $7 million dollars of his money. And then Bill was reportedly spotted having dinner with this young lady: 

Crystle Stewart, AKA: Miss USA 2008. Woah… Way to twist the knife Billiam! She FINE!

But come on, we can’t be mad at Bill Murray. He’s just a happy-go-lucky scamp! I don’t think he was meant for marriage at all. He’s too free-spirited (or hate-filled) to be tied down. I think he should stay single, casually date a string of younger, busty women and have some alcohol fuelled run-ins with the law. It’s God’s purpose for him. God Bless you Bill Murray, you horrible man.

2. Charlie Sheen –  What can I say about the Sheen? He’s always been a badass, living the sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle and he mostly got away with it too. But none of us are going to forget in a hurry his escapades last year. The whole world watched in horror as Charlie went on a media rampage. Not me, I watched in sheer delight! Let’s not fool ourselves here, it’s pretty likely that he WAS on drugs that whole time. Drugs are not cool kids, but Charlie Sheen is! I’m not even really sure what the whole thing was about but I wanna say it was about money. Charlie was PISSED at Chuck Lorre and wanted the world to know it. Suddenly Two And A Half Men was on hiatus and Charlie Sheen was everywhere. I honestly think that he would have come here and given me an interview if the price was right. It was like he’d gone mental but in the most entertaining way EVER! He was spitting gems like, “I’m tired of pretending I’m not special. I’m tired of pretending I’m not a total bitchin’ rock star from Mars.” / “The roll I was on made Jagger and Richards look like droopy eyed armless children.” / “Dying is for fools, amateurs!” / “I’m not fair game. I’m not a soft target. There’s a new sheriff in town and he has an army of assassins!” / “People can’t figure me out. They can’t process me. I don’t expect them to. You can’t process me with the normal brain.”

No, we couldn’t process him. Mostly because he was talking shit. But the world lapped it up. This was the most crazy any celeb had gone since Britney Spears shaved her head and attacked a car with an umbrella. Charlie took to twitter like a BOSS! He tweeted all the same shite he was talking. Then he went on a tour that I’m still not even 100% on what it was… A comedy tour? A motivational tour? I’ve no fuckin’ idea! But he made a few bucks from it, so more power to him! And I enjoyed the whole debacle so much that I even applied to be his Tiger Blood Intern (no joke!)

But the brilliance of the whole thing is that, despite getting sacked from ‘Two And A Half Men’, the show that paid him more than any other actor on television, Charlie’s career hasn’t really suffered a whole lot. He can still get work. Matter fact, he’s doing a Roman Coppola film next. For all his crazy, Charlie’s antics have made him more popular than ever before. And that’s why Charlie is #2. He can do whatever the fuck he wants and evade any serious consequences. And that is what you call living the dream!

1. Mel Gibson

Check out this still from Mel Gibson’s wiki page:

Homophobia, anti-semitism, sexism, domestic violence, racism, alcohol abuse, DUI, more anti-semitism. Oh Mel Gibson you naughty, naughty rogue / don’t ever change. Don’t get me wrong. I’m by no means condoning ANYTHING that Mel Gibson does. (Except maybe the rumour that he sometimes makes actors perform serious scenes wearing clown noses. I’ll condone that. It sounds funny.) But let’s be honest, if Mel Gibson wasn’t such a prick the world would be a hell of a lot more boring.

He separated from his wife in 2006 and  met a Russian pianist called Oksana Grigorieva. They had a kid together and then, predictably enough, it all went tits up in the most public way possible. She said that he assaulted her, took out a restraining order against him, a child custody battle ensued. And then there was those voicemail messages. Here’s a very short one for your enjoyment: 

Here’s a man who made a film about Jesus Christ. He’s a devout Catholic. Yet he’s anti-semite, sexist, racist and an abusive drunk. Actually, no, all fairly Catholic traits. Savage.. Way to go Mel. Clearly a man who has never heard the phrase, “Once bitten, twice shy”. STOP MISBEHAVING MEL GIBSON! Actually, please don’t. Why don’t you go ahead and crank it up a notch. Surely there’s more minorities you can pick on.

Mel Gibson. Number one, not for being a lovable rogue. Number one for being a blatant, immodest and unapologetic wanker. King of the Wankers!

Now before you say it, I know there’s no women on the list. That’s mostly because the only woman I could think of that kiiiinda deserved to be on the list is Lindsay Lohan. And c’mon, who wants to see her. You don’t love to hate Lindsay. You just plain hate her.

Honorable mentions go to Ryan Giggs for shagging his sister in law, and to Chris Brown for generally never learning his lesson.

These guys have all done bad. But look at it this way, without them, Celebville would be filled with people like Calista Flockhart and Matt Damon; good people, kind people, charitable people. Nobody wants that. We need the Kiefer Sutherlands to heatbutt designers in order to make the people like Kate Winslet carrying old ladies out of fires more tolerable.

Celebrity Badasses, I salute/condemn you.