Neville Thompson

photos and memories

2010-12-06T04:30:00.000-08:00

Mean and Moody , the new me!

Memories of the first outside show MAD ever did
FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY

I Had A Dream

2010-11-25T04:49:00.000-08:00

Hard times ahead and a country that seems divided in what to do. Some want to take to the streets, some to afraid of the consequences just want to lie down and take it. I recently downloaded Martin Luther Kings amazing speech and here I have regiged it for TODAY HERE IN IRELAND.
I think it is as relevant as it was back then.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Nearly Five score years ago, great Irishmen, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Irish who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But nearly one hundred years later, the Irish are not free. Nearly one hundred years later, the life of the Irish is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of debt. Nearly One hundred years later, the Irish live on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Irish are still languished in the corners of European society and find themselves an exile in their own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every Irish person was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that the Government has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as its citizens are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, The Government has given the Irish people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind The Government of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of debt to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This freezing winter of the Irelands legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating spring of freedom and equality. 2010 is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Irish needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in Ireland until the Irish are granted their citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence., The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Irish community must not lead us to a distrust of all politicians, for many, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Irish are the victim of the unspeakable horrors of the banking system. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Irish basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "State Debt." We cannot be satisfied as long as a person in Cork cannot buy a house or a Dubliner believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh unemployment. And some of you have come from areas of farming -- You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Cork go back to Galway, go back to Limerick, go back to Waterford, go back to Sligo, go back to the slums and ghettos of our capital city, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the Republican dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Slane, we all can sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Ireland, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the burden of the countries debt but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

Interview

2010-11-21T07:42:00.000-08:00

Recent interview thought people might be interested in. Lets you know were my head is.

So Neville, you are back on the shelves in a collection of short stories, whats it about?
The books called Requiem for the Dead. It's a collection of writers rewriting great Irish Folklore. I did a rework of Children of Lir, called Children on Gear. But there ae a load of writers and different types of stories.

You are known for your blunt honesty, so what did you think of the other stories?
I didn't read them, it didn't matter to me what they were like. As a rule I don't read other writers work.

Do you not think you should have, out of respect?
Respect? How is that respect? Do you read every article in your magazine? And what difference does my opinion have on anyone? I know I wouldn't enjoy them all and not into buttering people up for the sake of it.

Your story got great write-ups but you don't appear on the cover as one of the big writers, how did that make you feel?
What the fuck has that to do with anything? I write that's what I do, I don't publish or create covers. It's not my job to promote the book or to say who are the big writers on it. Do I think I should have been on the cover? Of course, but I also think the cover was wrong. I am long enough at this now to know what I like or don't like. And its the same with questions, do you understand?

Why have you not been writing lately?
I have, just not published. it's bad times all around. I sometimes think I am doing nothing but then I realise I am busy.

Doing What?
Well this year I have written two shorts, two plays and started almost finished two books. I have worked with a lot of groups and so have been very creative.

Do you like giving workshops?
Workin with other people is always very rewarding. But its also important to do your own work. I like doing plays and working with new talent.

Do you ever see real talent?
Yes of course. Edel Hoey in Kilkenny could be brilliant. An actor there by the name of Barry Byrne could be brilliant but its not only about talent, its about commitment and self belief and marketability.

Will they make it?
Who knows, but they have the ability too.

You recently had a pop at the Arts Council.
Not just recently, I always have a go. They are useless.

You have a very grumpy attitude dont you?
Look if something pisses me off I say it. The Art Council have done nothing for me or any working class writer in years. they have token writers that are dragged out and get everything. Poets who really are great are ignored and why? the Arts council scratches its own back, it is non contraversial and does not represent Art in this country. But neither does the Film Board, RTE or anyone else.

You had a go at Merissa Mackle recently on Facebook and John Sexton, thy are not the art council?
So? John W Sexton is one of the great poets of our time, I took offence at a message he agreed with, we had a barny, end of. He is still a great writer. But will he get accolades... no.

And Marissa?
She criticised the protesters for marching I didnt agree, again end of.

You have a problem with other writers and the arts then?
No I don't. I have an opinion, I say it. I think the way Pat Ingoldsby is standing on a street flogging books as Roddy Doyle lords it up on boards and talks shite about foreigners in this country not being treated right is a disgrace. But I think U2 being the biggest band on the planet as Aslan struggle is a disgrace too.

What's next for you?
I keep writing and next year plan something huge in Dublin.

What?
Wait and see.

REVOLT

2010-11-05T22:03:00.000-07:00

Its going bonkers out there!
We all have to remember that the Irish are the fighting Irish, that we became a republic through revolt and that as a nation we shouldn't take shit.

We are being laughed at by the government ,
They havent a clue, not a fucking clue. We now need to make 6 Billion repayments this year... us! Bottom line noone else but us.

So that, if I am right is 6,000 Million. We need to find that many millionaires so what does the government do? Hits unemployed and pensioners... oh and anyone on PAYE.
Yep tp recap... those with no jobs, those who worked all their lives and those working on mostly the lower tax band.

Now those who know me no I am no brain surgeon but fuck me it'll take a fair bit of time to get that out of us. I could be wrong buta survey last year noted 33,000 millionaires in Ireland... even allowing for each only to have a million why not hit them taking a wealth tax of 20%
thats over the 6000 million needed

Is it coincidental that so many of our wealthy are now moving home!

Head Shops, we have a drug problem that is never going away. fact of life so why not make revenue. At present illegal drugs in this country are rampant but pay no tax. The sicknesses caused will be paid for by the ordinary joe soap. The government closed the headshops they didnt irradicate the poblem, just put it underground. I note papers arent complaining about the snow blow now!

There were 132 head shops they averaged a monthly tax bill of 50,000 each. thats 132 x 12 x 50000. somewhere in the 63 million bracket and they hadnt even started.

Time too to tell Mary to blow out the fucking candle in the white house. Yes when we had loadsacash we could welcome all and sundry. But we don't and so all the beggars and the criples who will never ever work but only beg and take hand outs just has to stop! But no what did we do we pass a law making it legal to beg!
Not legal to have a job and the dole but legal to beg all day and draw it.

And at hospitals we have to stop catering for the drug addiction until all our pensioners are looked after. We have old age pensioners lying in corridors for hours on end, days in fact, while junkies and prisoners skip the queue and go right to the top.

This is wrong, has been for years. And it has to stop. A friend of mine is worse off now working thirty five hours a week than they would be on the dole.

Wake up smell the roses and react!

2010 Where did this year go?

2010-10-26T13:57:00.000-07:00

There I was at the start of the year thinking this is going to be good, I am going to really get my shit together and hey presto its nearly November and I feel that the year has gone by and I havent done a thing!

It's been a strange year for me.
Personally I had great highs but also hit the worst low in years. I mean I dint even want to think how low I went.
But if I take a positive out of it its that I came through and so I know now that I can survive anything when I want to.

And I really have... for the first time in my life... realised that true happiness is inside. I know 49 years it took but its true. I find that sad in many ways but its the truth.

I faced my demons at last head on and found that I can.
I looked at some people and was shocked how fickle they turned out to be but at least I know I stayed staunch or them and thats good.

Now I am a little more selfish but in a good way.
I realise that changes have to come but the only person I can change is me.
I now have to settle into living this new me and hopefully become happy in it.
If I can achieve that then 2011 might be a good year

Sex, Lies and Butterflies

2010-02-22T15:05:00.000-08:00

Chapter Four

As soon as he had the money in his hand John was making excuses and gone. He had just enough time to catch a quick pint in The Elbow Inn before meeting his gagging for it conquest. He sat nursing a pint and studying tomorrows racing page.

At the bar the locals where winding Philly the Barman up.
Philly was always thinking of new ways to impress his boss. He wanted a pay rise but the boss kept on telling him that times where hard. Trendy clubs where killing the trade and sure as it was, especially with the smoking ban, he was lucky to have a job at all. Philly decided his happy hour cocktails would make all the difference. On his lunch hour he had written the “All Cocktails one euro sign”. He’d even bought three markers without charging them to the pub. When word got around about this offer, he thought, the punters would surely be rolling back through the doors and the boss would have no choice but to give him a sizeable rise.

At the bar three regulars sat in silence. Jasper sat reading his paper. Jasper always read The Sun even though according to him the Daily Mirror was the only paper worth its salt. Being a union leader he didn’t read the Mirror anymore to shown allegiance to his comrades during the strike. Admittedly the strike was back in the eighties, ‘People have short memories,’ he would say if he ever he caught any of the boys reading it. Sometimes Timmo would buy The Mirror just to wind him up. Timmo sat with Connor looking at the sign that Philly had placed on the wall, behind the till.
“That's discrimination.” He said.
At first the barman didn’t even realise that Timmo was talking to him.
“What's discrimination?”
Timmo pointed to the poster
“That.”
That was a sign advertising all cocktails for two euro during happy hour.
“How do ya make that out?”
“Well cocktails get special treatment.”
“You've lost me.”
“Take parties. All year round it’s a pint of the black stuff for meself and a vodka and orange for the Mrs., but come to a party and there's not a pint in sight. Not at all; just cocktail this and leg opener that. Discrimination.”

Realising a wind up when he seen one Jasper put his paper down.
“Right on Brother Timmo. Take the ordinary sausage. Food of the masses, stable diet of children. Children get it with mash; men use it to dry up the pints on the way home from the buzzer. But it never gets invited to any parties. Ah no, that privilege goes to the cocktail sausage. All week long no one would look at a cocktail sausage but as soon as there's a party... out it comes. No party is complete without it.”
The duo nodded as Timmo continued:
“And if yeh were to hand people a plate of ordinary Ding Dong Denny Sausies with sticks hanging out of them...”
Jasper answered him:
“ They'd look at yeh like yeh were the missing link. Discrimination, I'm telling yeh.”
For the first time in over an hour Conor spoke:
“If it was human yeh wouldn't get away with it.”
The Barman was losing the will to live and Conor getting involved was the last straw. As had been said on many an occasion, the best part of Conor had run down the inside of his mother’s leg.
“ Get away with what?”
Like a good choir they all answered in unison.
“ Discrimination!”
“Ye'd be sued. Charging different prices to different people.”
The barman leaned into Conor’s face:
“ But it's not a person, it's a fucking drink.”
Timmo coughed:
“ Makes no odds. Not in the Politically Correct World we live in. Noddy can't call Big ears, Bigears any more.”
Staying serious Jasper added:
“Yeh never hear me calling for a pint of the Nigger Stuff.”
“ It's only drink!”
Conor raised his glass:
“Drinks have feelings too.”
Philly looked from one to the other, as if trying to spot whether they were messing or not.
“You lot are mad, you deserve locking up.”
“They said the same about Nelson Mandela.”
“Locked him up.”
“But they never broke him.”
“He stood strong and fought for what he believed in.”
Not believing the barman shook his head:
“And what do you believe in?”
“Solidarity…”
All three raise their glasses
“…for the pint.”
Philly sighs. He grabs three umbrellas and cherry's on cocktail sticks and places them in the pints.
“There. There's yer solidarity”
The three look at the drinks in front of them.
Jasper looked at the other two:
“And the price?”
“Two euro... Happy?”
“Ecstatic!”

As the row finishes and the trio settle into their new pints, John finishes his pint and heads to go.
“Are yeh heading?” Asked Philly.
“Yeah.”
“Ah stay,” says Jasper, “have another happy hour pint.”
“I can’t you know yourself people to do, things to see.”
They all laugh as he heads out onto the street.

Sex, Lies and Butterflies

2010-02-08T13:48:00.000-08:00

Chapter Three

Through moans Max packs the tray and backs out the door. He balances the tray in one hand while opening the handle of the door with the other just about managing to hold on to the tray-
“Oh I'm fine you two stay where you are.”
They both “Shusshed” in perfect unity.
Max places the tray on the coffee table in front of them. As he does he blocks their view of the telly.
“Geroutoftheway!”
Max goes to sit but just as his cheeks are about to hit the cushion of the chair Tina pipes up-
“Tea won't pour itself.”
He rises again and pours. Taking a cup for himself he reaches for a sandwich, Tina slaps his hand-
“What did I say about a diet?”
John takes a handful of slices and laughs-
“Yeah ya fat fuck”
They sit in silence watching Gay Byrne ask a question, suddenly John sits up-
“Yeah fucking eejit!”
Max answers defensively-
“What did I do now?”
John points erratically at the television but talks to Max-
“ Not you yeh fucking eejit... that fucking ejet. He's only goin' for a grand and already he’s used ask the audience.”

The contestant is sitting looking blankly at Gay Byrne as he reads out the thousand pound question.
BYRNE: (to contestant) Who wrote EMMA? Was it..?
A. Jane Austen
B. Jane Rover
C. Jane Morris or
He laughs as he says the fourth answer.
D Jane Mini

The audience laugh too. The contestant doesn’t, he sits and stares blankly. Byrne advices him to take his time.
John screams at the television-
“ A! You fucking gobshite. A!”
Byrne reminds him that if he were to answer incorrectly he’d go home with nothing.
John was almost at the telly-
“It’s A, everyone knows its A.”
Byrne asked-
“Any idea?”
The contestant shock his head-
“None Gay, you see I know absolutely nothing about music.”
The audience laugh, Byrne smiles-
“ I think without breaking any of the rules of the show I can tell you EMMA is a book.”
That sets John off completely, he stands up screaming-
“Fucking ejet. Get him off. They should fuck him off the bleeding show.”
“Who Gaybo or yer man?” Tina laughs at her own joke.
The contestant opts for Fifty-fifty.

John crushes the can he has in his hand-
“That’s fucking stupid.”
“Why?” asked Max.
“ If the fucker thought it was a song, taking away two wrong answers isn’t going to help, is it? I bet yeh he’ll still end up using Phone a friend.”
As John says this the contestant looks at the two remaining answers and says to Gay-
“I need to phone a friend.”
In disgust John sits back heavily into the settee-
“ Told yeh.”
He screams at the telly. “Fucking Simpleton!”
Max smiles and puts on Byrne’s voice-
“Remember they’re only easy if you know the answer.”
Max laughs but stops when he realises that he is the only one who sees the funny side to what he has said. Byrne turns to the camera and asks the home audience to come back after the break to see if Lionel goes all the way to a million euros.
“A million euros!” Sighs John. “That fucker couldn’t go all the way to the fucking toilet without pissing himself.”

Max and Tina laugh.
John protests-
“I’m serious people like him really piss me off.”
Max reaches over for a sandwich but caught by Tina’s glare resists.
Instead he quizzes John:
“Jesus John but you’re hot and bothered tonight. Is it really just that lad on the telly?”
For a moment John doesn’t reply but then taking a second can of beer from the tray he begins-
“Ah, I’ve had a bad few days and then to cap it all I got this.”
He pulls a letter out of his pocket and hands it to Max.
Max reaches for his reading glasses as John continues-

“You remember that little garage I owned a few year back? Well it seems that I still owe a few people a few bob, including the taxman.”
Tina sits up all interested in the juicy gossip-
“How much?”
“Seems I owe them thirty one thousand four hundred and twenty pounds, fifty-six pence.”
“ That can’t be right, can it?”
“That's what I said.”
Max finishes the letter and hands it to Tina as he comments.
“Outstanding taxes.”
John replies-
“That's what they said.”
Tina chips in-
“But you went out of business years ago.”
“That's what I said.”
“Yeah but he still owes.”
“They said that.”
Tina offers-
“Say you’re bankrupt.”
“ I said that.”
Max shakes his head-
“If he does that they get to sell everything that belongs to him, his flat, his car everything. And he can’t get a loan or start a business for another seven years.”
“That's wha...Where you fucking listening in on my call or what?”
Tina gives Max a dirty look-
“Max if you can't say anything constructive say nothing at all, do you hear me?”

The music for the end of the adverts starts up again, Max points to the screen-
“You need to go on that.”
The start of Millionaire begins.
“Oh very witty.”
“I’m serious.”
Tina agrees-
“Max is right. What have you to lose?”
John gulps back his drink-
“Do you have any idea how many phone calls they get?”
“So? Someone has to get on.”
John thinks about it for a minute:
“ Naw!”
Tina gets up and hands him back his letter-
“Ah Suit yourself but don’t be whinging to me about being hard up.”
She heads for the door. Max looks at her-
“Where you heading love?”
“Sorry Mien Fuehrer? Not that it’s any of your business but I’m heading out. Are you being jealous… again?”
Max begins to apologise-
“No no, it’s nothing like that I just don’t remember you saying that’s all.”
“Of course you don’t. It’s not to do with golf or your precious butterflies so you wouldn’t. I said I’d meet Jenny down the pub. Her and Robert, the pig she married, are thinking of splitting up. She needs all the help she can get.”
Tina exits leaving the two men behind.
John seems restless, he opens another can-
“So are we still on for that game of golf tomorrow?”
“Yes although strictly speaking…”
John cuts across Max-
“Max buddy…”
“Oh, Oh Buddy now that sounds ominous.”
“Any chance of you subbing me a few bob.”
Max shoots him a look, John continues-
“Just a score... I know I still owe you... but I’m a bit short. And I've a hot date tonight.”
Max smiles-
“A married one no doubt.”
John is surprised that Max knows.
Max explains-
“Sure everyone knows you’ve a string of married fluff on the go.”
Max reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a bundle of notes, John seeing the notes decides to ask for more.
“You couldn't make it forty, could you?”
“She must be good?”
“The one tonight? She’s dynamite, gagging for it.”
“You'd want to watch out that the hubbie doesn't find out.”
John smiles-
“Oh I will Max. I will.”

Sex, Lies and Butterflies

2010-02-01T15:29:00.000-08:00

Chapter two

Max Musgrove watched the crow rip a hole in the black plastic bags in his back garden. He should have shouted at it but he liked nature and was curious what the poor bird had smelt that had made it feel the need to puncture the bag. After all, every night he poured Big Dom all over the bags to keep those fucking Tom Cats from ripping them open. His chain of thought was shattered by a high-pitched whine. He left down the dish he was cleaning and walked briskly into the sitting room.

“Yes Dear.”

Tina, Max’s wife lay on the sofa.

“Be a love Max and give us over a cushion.”

The cushion lay only a stretch away. Max walked across the room to collect it.

“Max,” She shouted irritated, “Get outa the way. Why did you have to walk straight in my line of view.”

Her comment made Max look to the telly.

“Ahhh Tina why didn’t you tell me that Millionaire is on?”

“I thought you were having too much fun with the dishes.”

She leaned forward and let him put the cushion behind her.

“You know that Millionaire is my favourite…”

She interrupted-

“Well if you weren’t so mean and got a dishwasher like everyone else we wouldn’t have this problem, would we?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, two adults don’t need a dishwasher? They are not practical for two people. And it’s not hygienic”

“And tell me now, Mister Pearls of Wisdom, how did you work that one out?”

“Well, we wouldn’t have enough dishes or cups so they’d sit in the washer for days waiting on a proper load and by that time germs would be running riot… And there is the global footprint.”

"Forget it. I’ll just remain the laughing stock of the road. The only house without one. Go on… go back to your precious clean dishes.”

Max stands transfixed with the question on the television-

“In a minute.”

“God will the germs not be running riot by then? I swear you watch too many films, I think you think this house is the set of outbreak.”

“Shuush.”

Tina sits up-

“Don’t you dare tell me to shut up.”

The door bell rings. They both ignore it, it rings again. Max looks at Tina as he walks toward the hall-

“I’ll get it, will I?”

She ignores him.

He opens the door and before he can speak John Doe is past him.

“Howya Max baby?”

John is gone into the sitting room before Max’s sarcastic answer of ‘come in’ is out. As he enters he rips off his jacket, slings it untidily on one chair and lounges, legs sprawled onto Max’s chair.

“Have I missed much?”

Tina replies without looking at him-

“Just started.”

Max comes in and picks up John’s jacket placing it on the coat stand in the hall.

He mutters to himself-

“Come in John, sit down John, make yourself at home John.”

“Max!”

“Yes.”

Tina smiles at him-

“Be a love and get the remote.”

The remote sits within reach of the duo but Max decides to get it as he does he gets in the way of John-

“Ah Max move for fuck sake.”

Max picks up the remote and starts turning it up-

“Don’t know why people have remotes if they don’t keep them beside them?”

Tina snaps it off him-

“Can’t understand why people insist on doing a favour if they’re going to moan about it.”

Max looks around and sees that John has taken his seat, he goes to take his place on the sofa as Tina stretches her legs.

He lands straight on her, she screams-

“Max, yeh fat fuck!”

He jumps up-

“Sorry Love.”

“Don’t love me, yeh nearly broke me fucking legs.” She rubs her legs as if they are broken. “You’re back on that diet, do yeh hear?”

John sits laughing-

“What’s that Max would I like a can of beer? Jaysus I’d love one.”

Max sighs and moves toward the kitchen.

As he exits Tina pipes up she could murder a cup of tea, Max sighs again-

“Anything else while I’m out here?”

John calls for a few Hang sangwiches.

John liked to say things in annoying ways, Max often thought that deep down John wanted to be a cockney all “Apple and Pears” and “Tins of Fruit”.

Max detested what he called the misuse of the English vocabulary and knew that John did it to wind him up.

Max opens the fridge mimicking them-

“A beer, I’d murder a cuppa, a few sandwiches… Oh you sit there...don't mind me, sure why would I want to watch a telly programme that gets a mere million viewers a week....”

Time takes a cigarette!

2010-01-31T07:57:00.000-08:00

You might remember a while ago I had a bit of a search for a photo of myself for the new look blog! And it got me finding shots of me on the web... God as Bowie said... Time takes a cigarette. Thirteen years in the public eye has ravaged my youthful looks. What do you mean was I ever youthful!

1997 Jackie Loves Johnser started it and this was a photo taken in Kenny's of Galway. The orange Jumper was like a mini dress and I wore matching shoes, you had to be there!

1999 I wanted to be taken as a serious writer and changed the look.to suit. A lot of leather looked a bit like the only gay in the Gestapo!

2006 dont know what was going on, I was actually at a take me as I am or let me go part of my life. Most people took one look and decided to let me go!

And today, nearly bald, very grey but happy again. Still crazy after all these years!

Robin Hood meets Frankenstein presented by Deenside Players

2010-01-31T06:37:00.000-08:00

I went and seen the Castlecomer Pantomime on Thursday evening and have to say I really enjoyed it. Of course the fact that I had Mags and Mark there to comment on every move helped!
Seriously the Panto there represents everything that great community theatre is about. The way that the whole community comes together really is fantastic. The commitment level of those involved beggars belief. The individual performances range from eye catching to just ok but thats not important. Its about the enjoyment level people get and on that level the show would not be beaten by any Pantomime on earth. The sets are so good, costumes brilliant and the music so appropriate to the scenes. Even the programme is brilliant and very informative. Its only when flicking through it you realise the amount of commitment the committee give to the show. But all I can say is every minute they give is so worth it, cause its a great nights entertainment!

Of course most of the local references went over my head, but so what. It would be totally unfair to point out individuals (even though a lot of the people involved in Banana Moon shows were once again to the front) but I do have to say that the dancers were brilliant! The cherography is just spot on. John Coogan and Sarah Brennan have produced a great nights entertainment.
Only fault... ten euros worth of raffle tickets and not a sniff of a prize! Wha's that about?

New Year New Work

2010-01-31T06:20:00.000-08:00

Well a good start to the New Year work wish.
I hear that the French are going to make L'amour Ouf, the film. Its Jackie Loves Johnser OK? in French, I can't wait. Seems on the cards for a start around May, I will keep you posted.
I promised myself that I would really start writing again this year, its funny you have to get ourself into the zone. For the last few years I have been too easily distracted with lots of other small projects.

First off is a collaboration with a few other people, we are planning a stage show with a difference. As usual we will be starting in Castlecomer and working out of there. Early days and I wouldn't like to put the mockers on it by saying too much, but the seed behind the idea is fab.

Also started writing a bit myself, the storyline is my usual style but the subject matter may be too controversial for most, it centers around a rape. I guess I have to write what I honestly believe in, cant stand the writers writing what they think audience want, not for me. So I hope my audience stick with me.

I have totally put behind the last few years, the begrudgers and the hard luck Neville Stories, I am going to stay positive and concentrate on the writing and start taking back the business side of things myself. I know people criticise me for the ego, but its just when ever I leave things to others I really do feel that they have not got the same passion about the project.

So loads of work, just watch the space!

Sex, Lies and Butterflies

2010-01-26T13:02:00.000-08:00

Every week I am going to write a chapter to my first ever blog novel. Now anyone who has ever read one of my novels knows that’s not exactly going to fill a lot of pages in one go, but I hope you enjoy.

Chapter One

John Doe snuggled into her tits and wobbled them in to his face, she giggled…
“Slapper” he thought but, tits are tits and her’s, whoever she was, were nice.
She called him honey.
‘Call me what you want, just keep those beauties within sucking distance.’
He thought.
Suddenly she froze.
“What? What’s wrong? Don’t you like that?” he asked.
“It’s him!”
“Who?”
“Me Husband”
“But you said…”
“I know, I fucking know what I said.”
Her well pedicured toe went through a sheet as she tried to rise-
“Fuck, fuck fuck.”
“You said he was gone to Scotland!”
“He was.”
“Well he must have his own fucking Boeing 747 to be back that quick.”
She started crying-
“He’ll fucking kill me.”
John was dressing now-
“He’ll never guess.”
“He’s not stupid.”
John wanted to say he doubted that, after all any guy who didn’t know his missus was a good thing didn’t exactly belong in Mensa!
“He’s going to ask what I am doing in bed.”
“Tell him you were sick and had to lie down.”
He looked at the bed, it was obvious it had seen action… and her still cuffed to the bed might fuel his suspicions.
She screamed-
“Get the fucking keys.”
John looked around but couldn’t see them. He could here the front door open-
“Honey I’m home.”
She was hysterical-
“He’ll kill us.”
John was crawling on the ground searching-
“Hey I’m looking.”
“No I mean it… Vivian’s mad.”
John stopped-
“How mad? Are we talking one sandwich short of a picnic here?”
“We’re talking empty picnic basket, you remember Mad Frankie Moore?”
“Yeah the poor fucker got nailed to a cross last year, stuck in the middle of the dump...”
She continued the story-
“By the time they found him the rats had had his feet for starters, his legs for main and his…”
“OK OK I get the picture! What about it?”
“Well my Viv was the one who pinned him to the cross, just for whistling at me in the street.”
They could here his footsteps on the stairs. John ran to the window still pulling on his trousers.
“Hey what you think you’re doing… get me out!”
John climbed out the window and onto the drainpipe-
“No offence love but I don’t want my balls being rats dessert.”
As he slide to the ground he could here Vivian burst into the room. He laughed as he jumped the hedge and strolled down the street.

His boxer dog Tyson jumped with joy at seeing his master, they played together as they went. Tyson was a good dog, he looked fierce and that pleased John. It stopped people taking liberties. He’d even had Tyson’s ears pinned to give him a “don’t fuck with me look”. In reality Tyson was just a loveable bundle of muscle.
He bought the evening paper to read the latest on transfers, there was a rumour that United were set to buy Figo. If they did he felt it was time for Sir Alex to hang up his boots. Sir Alex was God but Figo hadn’t even been good in his prime never mind now. He made Beckham look energetic and sure Sir Alex got rid of him in his prime. John was reading the paper on the way out of the shop and automatically taking the turn that led to the house he was living in. It was easy for John never to bump into anyone on his way, one look at Tyson and even Blind Man Branson’s Labrador crossed the road to avoid him.
Tyson stopped and started growling.
“Come on Tyson,” John called not even looking up. “Come on the fuck.”
But the dog stood rigid and snarled.
John looked up and sure enough there, at his door was Troy Davis, wanker exstradinaire and his equally wankerish side-kick Frisco Ferris.
Not two people that John wanted to meet, in a single move (that would have made John Cleese, minister of silly walks happy) he about turned and headed in the opposite direction.
John knew he couldn’t avoid Troy forever but, he needed to buy time.
Of late his investments weren’t doing to well, they tended to be falling at the first jump or losing in photo finishes and his outgoings were greater than his incomings thanks mainly to a shitty job and an expensive pint. His stomach rumbled jaysus it had been a while since he ate, he’d have to cadge a meal and quick.

OH NO IT ISN'T

2010-01-25T16:24:00.000-08:00

Yes its that time of year again for the good people of Castlecomer as John Coogan and the Deenside Players bring their unique form of Panto to town. Opening night is Tuesday so good luck to everyone involved. Having worked with a lot of the cast and crew over the last few years I have no doubt it will be another fantastic production!

It's Back

2010-01-13T14:27:00.000-08:00

Just when you thought it was safe to live in Comer I have decided to, once again, do a ten session Creative Writing Workshop. It will be starting in March and given that they have previously wrote two plays and a book of short stories, it will be an amazing challenge. Can't wait!

The Gospel According to Johnser

2010-01-08T09:42:00.000-08:00

Brass Monkies!

By jaysus its cold. As me father would have said, fucking freezing. That's taken that at any time the aul fucker was sober enough to actually talk. Ma use to wonder why he never froze to death, I mean the amount of times we found him ballock naked in the garden I lost count. He'd come in pissed drunk and head straight to bed, later he'd go sleep walking looking for the jacks. Ma would only notice him gone cause he wasn't snoring. Snoring! It was like a pneumatic drill against the concrete. Of course muggins here was sent out to look for him. I found him in next doors brand new shed, found him pissing into the empty milk bottles and best of all into the corpo bin outside of our gaff. All side splitting funny for the neutral but fucking embarrassing walking your da home and he totally naked.

But he never died and he reckoned it was all down to the amount of vodka he had in his system. He said anything the Russians drank was bound to keep you going in all weather.

So when everyone was whinging aout the weather and the grit all I could think of was the aul fella and his vodka. Fuck the grit break open the Smirnoff!!!!

The New Photo

2010-01-05T16:04:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my good friend Margaret I have a new photo. can you believe that that's as good as I could get! I make a plea to everyone I know for a photo and that's it. Well at least its skinny. I looked at a photo taken at the 2008 Castlecomer Festival and I thought it was the Mitchilan Man!

My Photo

2009-12-15T15:33:00.000-08:00

I am not a vain man... no its not a typo I'm not!
So can you imagine my shock when I was told that all my photos on the web are terrible!
You would want to hear the abuse I got, my moody look seemingly looked gay, my smile made me look like an escapee from a mental institute and my sense of clothes was... well lets be kind and say dated!

So I plea if anyone has a decent photo of me, and this does not include the one of me as a child in shorts and aran jumper Lucy! Please lets know.

The Gospel According To Johnser

2009-12-11T12:20:00.000-08:00

Some Sick People Out There

Its the time for forgiveness, letting bygones be bygones, moving on. ... Ballocks!!
For the last two years I have been the victim of a campaign by two people to systematically destroy my character. Fair dues, both had their reasons a woman scorned and all that. And like any red blooded male I allowed a certain amount of it to just pass on by. You know there were aspects of my life I had not handled right and so I guess, in an arse about face way, I was getting just deserts.
So the personal assassination, the false accusations of misdemeanours at work that cost me employment, the rumours which led to people distancing themselves from me... (it goes on and on but this is not what this is about) just made me realise how strong I am and who my friends are.

But for the last year one of them has impersonated Jean on Facebook. Yes one of them is so sick that they have taken her identity. They set up a site to entrap people looking to chat to her on the internet. Hard to imagine but the truth. And over twenty people who know Jean have.
Now the irony is that any female who goes on the site and knows me is warned about what I am capable of. They are warned that I am a leech and then the great joke is that... AS JEAN... they tell them they are glad to be rid of me.
If it wasnt so sick depraved and invasive it would be funny. I mean two years on and they are so caught up with me that they are impersonating Jean.

I know they will read this and I hope someone who knows them will too. Personally I couldnt give a shit about what they try to do to me. I fnd it pathetic that after midnight every night they sign on as JEAN. I can understand it because if I was either of them I would want to be someone else too.

But once again I wonder why time and time again they drag Jean into it. Maybe they are that sick they don't even realise they are doing it. So if you are a friend of one of them and you know they are doing it, get them help because seriously... they need it.

There is a Santa

2009-12-07T15:19:00.000-08:00

A Very Happy Santa, it must be love!(or mince pies... mmm mince pies)

Working Harder Than Ever In 2010

2009-12-07T14:56:00.000-08:00

Time to be getting the thinking cap on re work next year, I have to say I am really looking forward to 2010. Ok the countries in a jocker but me, on a personal note, have not been happier for a long time. I really do think that this year is for me. Mind you Shane McGowan sang a similar line to Cristy McCall and the poor bitch lost her head to a speed boat!

Workwise things have settled down a bit. I do a fair bit with youth reach and hope that in the Budget Poetry Ireland keeps its funding!
January and february I will be writing my own stuff, then March I will look at the possibility of doing some workshops. I have committed to a third year of the Castlecomer festival and directing a play for it. I also want to produce/direct and write some plays and short films!

So all stations go!

The Gospel According To Johnser

2009-12-01T15:56:00.000-08:00

They're having a Laugh!

Ok so the country is fucked and wages are getting hacked to death but what do we expect.

Our government give billions to a group of bankers who lost us everything and then don't see a problem when the bankers give themselves a pay rise.

And still we do nothing!

Cowen and Co are laughing all the way to the bank.

They still dont see anything wrong with their multiple pensions for fucking nothing as old age pensioners starve.

They don't see anything wrong with single parent supplements being cut when they are all men and women who have teenagers and its not a worry to them.

They don't see anything wrong with the fact that Cork is under four foot of water and its all thanks to their dodgy land deals.

The list is endless.

And now we are coming into a budget. And yer one is saying she is not a spoil sport, that christmas is a religious festival.

Two things on that, one we will need another loaves and fishes miracle to feed ourselves and two wasnt this the same shower that tried to stop the Children's hospital having a crib a few years ago?

Like I say they are having a laugh!

The Parties Over

2009-10-29T10:21:00.000-07:00

All good things come to an end and so it was for the Castlecomer Festival this year. What a great weekend it was, the Sun stepped out to join us and on a Sunny day you really can't get a nicer place than Comer!

The writers on show this year excelled themselves and once again the locals supported the Play in their droves. Some fantastic performances, a brilliant mining scene that surprised the audience, very emotional scene with Chubby and Michelle was amazing and I think the ending was totally unexpected. Add into that a unique house party and you will know it was a show not to be missed.

The open mic session oce again proved a hit and the readings really of a high standard.

And not to be outdone the Demesne Family Day was a huge success.

Roll on 2010!!!!!!

IN THE BLOOD

2009-09-13T01:05:00.001-07:00

Less than two weeks to go and the play is really coming on. It's a huge cast, about twenty odd but they really work hard and with the new bits all written and rehearsed I feel we have a great show.

The play was written by the Castlecomer Writers, they really have been working their butts off, two plays and a book of short stories in two years. It's great to finally see what they wrote and what the actors act finally coming together.

In the Blood, is set in the area of Castlecomer in the 1950's. It's a mining family but when the eldest brother desides to leave the mines and the youngest brother goes missing, emotions run high.

The play is on as part of the Castlecomer Writers' Festival and runs for three nights 25,26,27 September. Then the following week it heads off to Kilkenny's beautiful Watergate theatre for another show on Saturday 3rd Oct.

GOVERNMENT MY ARSE

2009-09-07T16:59:00.000-07:00

Are we all mad? Are we all stone wall lunatics? Years ago a band called Fun Boy Three had a song called The Lunatics Have Taken Over The Asylum, little did we know they were talking about Ireland in 2009!!!

Nearly everyone has taken at least 10% hit on their wages. Most people with houses have seen their property plummet and we have all been asked to take the debt of the Banks. The Banks who all paid their bonuses out to the top guys out of it.

Next we get a Late Late Show interview by Brian Cowen. he got hard hitting questions from the man who was so reluctant to accept that he had to take a pay cut too. Cowen was a rabbit in headlights and basically admitted he was wrong and that we were fucked. fucked and the paddle taken off us just as we hit Shit Creek. For this he got applauded.

We have a Health Minister who is obese and today we all get told that just about anything we possess is to be taxed. Oh and we are being asked to say yes to something we already said NO to.

And yet on the way home from work today I heard one man tell another, well at least you have a job.

Sorry enough is enough. Its not enough you have a job. its not enough that you are working. The workers are getting bled dry. Lets cut the bull, it was OK to be nice and charitable when we were loaded but we are not anymore. Lets all wake up and smell the roses. Lets look after our needy but lets be specific about that, its not freeloaders its needy. Its not junkies and alcos and pill poppers, its not people who are second generation skivvers.

The PAYE workers are getting screwed again and again, the farmers are getting screwed and meanwhile the Government hide behind reams of paper.

Our country is in dire straights, they are that crooked we probably stll dont know the true extent yet. And its not just the government why dont the others admit they don\t want the reins either cause had they wanted them every poll thats been held is saying they can have it.

We need a new leader one with balls, one willing to lead us through it not one just looking to avoid blame.

And once again the Arts Council giving it loads about the Writers Tax Exemption. Speaking as a writer it doesnt make that big a difference. It is merely another loop hole for the big earners to not pay tax. That exemption was meant to help struggling writers stay professional writers not for the U2 and Celcilia Aherne's to avoid paying a cent.

Like the Fun Boys said "The Lunatics have taken over..." and if we dont watch out we will be singing their predecessors The Specials song "This town coming like a Ghost town."

The Line Up

2009-08-10T15:08:00.000-07:00

What an amazing line up is already in place for Castlecomer Writers and Arts Festival. It's hapening on the weekend of the 25th September and it really is the creme de le creme of Irish writers.

Everyone of the novelists have topped the Irish Charts!

We have Marisa Mackle, Roisin Meaney and Mia Gallagher coming... Oh and me!

I'm telling you its going to be a great weekend for writers, singers, artists and those who love a bit of craic but be warned... workshops are limited places so get in touch with Mary in the Castlecomer Library and book now

A shower of plackers

2009-08-04T21:17:00.000-07:00

I was walking through Dublin the other day and I just thought we're a right shower of plackers! Everywhere you look in Dublin there are plaques. Plaques to tell us the rock and roll highlights (Ronan Keating worked in a shoe shop on Henry Street), Plaques about Ulysses (the only fucking book written about Dublin if you were to believe them), Plaques to commemorate plaques! Wars, deaths, bridges you name it we have them. and there I was walking around and I was thinking why do we have to wait until people are dead or in U2 or Boyzone before plaquing them.

Why do we have to wait until they are dead before celebrating. One case in point for me is Pat Ingoldsby. Now before you all start shouting... Him he's a fucking header! I know he is.

But that's not the point. Pat is one of the true, and believe me very few, remaining characters on the streets of Dublin and we should celebrate him! He is, was and always will be one of the finest poets Ireland has ever produced, OK so we can't present him to dignitaries like we can wheel out Seamus Heaney but fuck me you can understand him.

But cause he is, as a poet should be, he is shunned.

A poet should be a rebel, should be to the point, should be descriptive.

Pat's an angry man, even with his gammy leg and passing years he still is angry. He has attitude and presence but he doesn't have a plaque and my reckoning is he never will.

It's a long time since Ireland appreciated real anger, real balls.

Pat stands on Westmoreland Street selling his books and if you don't believe he is angry ask him about RTE or the Arts Council. He is one of our greats. better than the million sellers, better than the daughters of politicians or the authors trying to be the next Bono with their work for refugees.

Years ago he was a favourite with RTE but he dirtied his bib, as a decent writer he will never be IN with the Arts Council and so because of this we will never see his name in a plaque, not in his lifetime.

So lets celebrate the real people of Ireland and stop faffing around about the plastic ones.

In The Blood

2009-08-04T21:04:00.000-07:00

Well we finally got to do the first read through of the new Castlecomer Writers play... In The Blood! And I have to say its really good. Chubby got a great crew together again this year. With some of my old favourites leaving I was a bit apprehensive but I needn't have been, the newbies fitted in great.

The writers have written a play that leans back to the old coalmines of Comer and family life of a coal mining clan. Stop yawning!!! That's only the start, its a great show and I can tell you, although different from Clerical Errors in every way it shows the amazing talent in the town.

It will be, once again, one of the highlights of the festival and rightly so.

On the festival itself Clair Rottweiler (as she is known now after the meeting) is really proving a diamond in the coal. The committee are really putting together a great festival and Ger Ferris is going to have a website up and running by the weekend, filling everyone in on the latest details.

I know the workshops are only going to be a fiver a go and with places at a premium I would advice anyone interested to get booking!

CASTLECOMER FESTIVAL 2009

2009-07-22T03:46:00.000-07:00

I was back to Castlecomer and it looks like its goin to be a brilliant festival this year. Plans are well underway for what is bound to be a weekend of fun and frolics... I said frolics!!

Claire Rothwell has really taken the bit between her teeth and has whipped the festival committee into shape and its a brilliant positive thinking group.

There is a great play to mark the anniversary of the closure of the mines. It's called In The Blood and once again the writers have worked together to complete an amazing story.

Lots of top writers are coming to give workshops and there is also going to be activities for all those non writers to enjoy too.

I will keep you posted of updates but keep the calendar free
25th-27th September

Moonwalking in a vest on the streets of San Francisco

2009-07-20T16:10:00.000-07:00

What a couple of weeks.

Whacko Jacko dies and the whole world forgets that six months ago he was public enemy number one. Suddenly it didn't matter whether he did or didn't all that mattered was the music.

The cermony was sick. Some black dwarf trying to tell us that before Geldolf Michal saved the world! Talk about rewriting history... and worse was to come Brooke Shields tried to convince everyone she could act!

Now is it me or should the person who does Stevie Wonders hair be arrested. I mean the poor fuckers blind so he doesn't know what they're doing. And who told him to go out and sing any shite he wanted so long as he mentioned Michael... it was cringe worthy.

Still long may he dance!

While all this was taking place Farah Fawcett Majors slipped away without a word. She achieved something that Michael never did she had every teenager pulling his plump to her. God that poster of her with the curly blonde hair, the teeth and those nipples bulging through the vest offered me endless wanking material in the seventies. The fact that it was my brothers poster never entered the equation!

And also to die was Karl Malden... who? Yer man that wasn't Michael Douglas in The Streets of San Francisco. Terrible that he became known as that cause in his day he was a kind of Harvey Keitel... never going to be a box office draw but a fantastic actor. He got an oscar nomination for On The Waterfront and won one for A Streetcar Named Desire.

Maybe he couldn't Dance or sing or even look good in a vest but he gave pleasure in another way and will be sadly missed.

Good to be back

2009-07-20T13:52:00.000-07:00

Well hello all, yes finally I have got rid of all the gremlins and I have internet access and I'm back blogging!
It's been ages but the good news is nothing has really happened so you missed nothing, only messing. Loads to tell and I hope you enjoy hearing it.

I will get back to Sex, Lies and Butterflies and sorry for you who are loyal but think I will have to start from the start again.