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Election time people. Apparently the most important one in a while. Now to be honest with you I know as much about politics as a deaf chicken but I do know about is posters.

I like posters. Funny ones, cool ones, band posters, inspirational ones, kitty on the cloths line. You name it. What I dont like is this



Election posters dot the whole bloody landscape. That photo is in fact a very mild case of poster over loading. In the gulag (thurles) The square was riddled with them and for once in my life I was happy that the vandals were around to tear them down and defecate them.

I mean come on. Over-kill much? If i wanted to see a whole lot of smug faces hanging off what ever is available I would have just gone to the Dail and watched them hang out up there and hurl insults at each other because none of them really know what they are doing. Its true I dont know much about politics. Never had the head for it but I dont like this obtuse bombardment of ugly, far-fetched, smug portraits. What id rather see is this...



I really believe that Labour would get every vote form the 14 - 60 year old males demograph.

Or simply this. I would like to put my brother in the running.



All messing aside I hope you all took a long hard time to pick who you are voting for. If they promised before and didn't deliver, well, deliver them from thine vote.

Redman away......

Nerdintines Day

Five questions -

1. Can you hum the entire theme to the first Mario Bros Game?
2. Do you know what H2SO4 is?
3. Can you quote anything from Stargate, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica or Dr Who?
4. Do you agree with me when I say Roger Ebert was wrong when he said "Video games can never truly be art."?
5. Do you think that Scott Pilgrim Vs The World was the greatest film of our time?

If you answered yes to most of these questions I believe that you can be classed as a nerd. Im a nerd. A lazy one but a nerd none the less. I love it. I love our lifestyle. We get all the cool stuff and every now and then we get to dress up and wear capes. We get to read comics and play video games. Even play the odd board game or two. We meet in large groups to play children's card games and argue who was the better Bond and if you say Rodger Moore Il find where you live and slap you!!!! Sean Connery....CONNERY

I noticed at a young age that I was a nerd. I wasn't built for or into sports. From age 6 to about 9 I desperately wanted to be a teenage mutant ninja turtle or a "ginga" turtle. I have never stopped reading comics in fact I read one just before writing this lot. I had 2 very good friends in primary school who were also nerds. Better nerds than I could ever be. It wasn't until I reached secondary school that I found my true nerdy self and college helped that along nicely. We are a shy race. Quick to anger depending on the TV program being argued about. Nerds are not great with "the ladies" I was never great at the whole girls thing and i am usually the most surprised person when I do happen to "hook up" Im in no way bitter about couples or guys who are good with women Ive had my fair share of relationships and Im happy being single at the moment. More time for me and my nerdiness.


I dont know many girl nerds. They are few and far between so I would say that being a nerd is mostly a male thing. We are generally considered lonely gents and ladies but the people I know are top notch amazing people and coming up to Valentines day life can be hard for us nerds who are I think very misunderstood. I want to put a stop to this loneliness any nerd feels this VD. This VD is going to be different.


Every nerd who doesn't have the stereotyped "date" for VD, every nerd who gave the girl they liked flowers or a card only to be turned down, every nerd who cant tell the person they like how they feel. I say to you, unite brothers and sisters for we are not alone. F#*k all that card and flowers bull. I cant think of a better way to spend that money. I want you to grab your nerdy friends and get your nerdy freak on! Im talking about series marathons, movie marathons, board games, drinking competitions/games. We are not alone and we will take the day for ourselves. Nerdintines day is here brother and sisters. There are more of us slightly socially encumbered QI enthusiasts than there is people out on dates. Those of us nerds who do have dates will miss out on a truly epic nerd day that will be talked about and you will get the "you werent there man" look. I myself plan on playing a shit load of games and heading to see Paul in the cinema with me nerdy friends. My fellow nerds, we are not alone. Not ever. We have each other. Go out with your mates tomorrow.

To quote a certain space captain;

"Make it so"

Redman out

The Gulag

Well now, wasnt that a lovely break we had for Christmas. Is everyone a stone heavier from eating way too much. The way too much you said that you would abstain from this year. Now that you have that way too much in your god like self you are now promising yourself you will go to the gym, you know, the one you cant afford.

Their Life
David: "Yeah Jessica I ate way to much this Christmas. I think I gained about a stone but Im going to start going to that super mega awesome gym that opened just down the road."
Jessica: "I know David. I too ate too much. That gym is a great idea I have already paid for it and Im heading this Wednesday for my first session."
David: "I may join you."

REAL LIFE
David: "Jesus Jessica I ate like a starved, diseased, toothless pig this Christmas. I must now weigh the same as a small boat. Im going to start going to that gym that that guy opened up in his shed 30 miles away."
Jessica: "I know David. I ate 7 boxes of chocolates, 3 boxes of biscuits, 8 trays of candy bacon, a small trailer worth of gone off chocolate decorations and a member of my family. I know the shed you are talking about. I have already paid the extraordinary entrance fees and I promised I would go on Wednesday but thats never going to happen."
David: "You fat bitch."

Now that we are all happy and back to work. We can all start dreaming about our futures again. For me my future for the time being seems to be based around my home town. Well its not really my home place. I grew up in a small and beautiful village called Holycross where there was not much to do as a child except swim in the local river or throw small cans out onto the road to watch them get crushed by cars and the like. The local town, my local town, is where I learned to throw bigger cans on the road.

Thurles
Dotted in the middle of Tipperary's landscape is the small, dirty, knacker filled town called Thurles. Its like a jail for the sociably unaccepted (perhaps me being included) and I have christened it "The Gulag" I spent the bulk of my teenage years here and it wasnt all bad. First drink, first smoke, first kiss and all of that malark. What i didn't like is that in the 11 years I have been hanging around this town nothing has changed bar a new set of traffic lights and a slightly bigger itinerant population.

Imagine being stuck in a town where nothing happens....ever and any time something does finally happen its immediately destroyed by drugged up hoodies driving around in their shitty starlets drinking Smirnoff fucking ice and listening to freaking crappy dance music. It is a town that holds some of my dearest friends and thats probably he best thing about it. I imagine that 300 years ago or so when the town was built that the guys laying the place out were all like "hey man this place looks pretty nice we should built a fort town here with cool walls n' shit." Now the only wall they would see is the graffiti riddled one out the back of a tesco and a river full of shopping trolleys, bin liners and the odd 3 eyed fish or two.

Im sure this is a reality for many an Irish young folk. We all make the best of it. In fact I remember me and my lawyer shimming up a tree to hide from a lady who's house was suddenly and mysteriously TP'd by someone who was defiantly not Conor, Alan and I. Enough said about that.

Redman

The Mighty Cold

It’s early. Very early. The person in question is wrapped up extremely snugly in bed. It’s like a fort. Fort Warm. So well is he wrapped up that no cold air can infiltrate his fort of warmth even as mighty as the colds troops may be. He is in that state, you know, when you are kind of awake but still mostly asleep. The kind of state where you know you could wake up if you wanted to but you are far too comfortable and warm to do so and its very easy to lapse back into the coma you were in five minutes ago. No you stay in that state, aware but not awake.

Movement. Somewhere outside Fort Warm a door has opened and cold air is pouring through. We will call this door to the cold Colds Gap. “So the cold has a few tricks does he?” thinks the man. He retreats further under the walls of Fort Warm while five shadowy figures pass through Colds Gap. The man is more aware now. He can hear the faint scuff of slippers on a wooden floor. He knows whats coming and he thinks he is prepared for it. The cold and its minions have battled with Fort Warm before and this time they have a new trick. The man curls into a ball under his cozy walls pulling them closer and prepares himself for a wild and vicious assault. There is a small giggle and then sudden silence. What the man doesn’t know is that the fifth of these shadowy figures isn’t human.

A wet nose somehow breaks under the bottom of his warm walls of warmth and touches his foot. “Damn it” the man yells as he pulls back his now slightly colder foot. It’s the horrid hairy four legged beast of the great back garden plains. The beast is so surprised by the man’s outburst it yelps and runs back out through Colds Gap. “Awww Donny. You scared the shit out of the dog” A small voice says. “Just get up so we can open our presents!” This is when the man decides to go out fighting.

As I am trying to wrap at least 2 of my sisters up in my duvet and make a break out colds gap to the bathroom so I can get rid of the "ghost" of drinking past my mother is already up and shouting at us to come and help with the food prep. Christmas morning in my home is never an easy task. There is the rush for the bathroom followed by the rush of get some milk for your crunchy nut corn flakes before its all gone followed by the rush of get the hell in the car we have to go to mass. Mass is forever the same. They sing the same songs, you see the same people and you give the same greetings. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to have mass trough interpretive dance or suddenly jesus himself would appear and tell the church how bloody boring the whole thing was and that some people in the quire really need to learn how to sing or stop singing.

The scene that follows once we are safely back in the comfort of our own home is one of carnage and violence. Never will you see wrapping paper taken off presents in such a bold and vicious way. If one of the presents happened to be a small animal there wouldn’t be much left of it after the opening.

My favourite part of the day is dinner. I never laugh so much as I do at the table in Holycross. At a wedding quiet recently the drama that happens at our table was described as we were being “wonderfully horrible” to each other. I think that you need to be part of a big family to understand how it all works. Lets just say that we are usually holding our sides somewhere between starter and main courses. The day is rounded off nicely by steady drinking the consumption of several tons of chocolates.

My last comment on Christmas is my reaction to the sudden change of weather. It went from about 28 degrees to minus 11 in the space of 2 days.

From this




To this


Merry Christmas everyone and a happy new year too.

Redman

A week worth of moments

We hit Sydney.

I would like to say we hit it "big style", I would like to say we hit the town and painted it red, yellow or whatever colour you paint a town when you hit it "big style" but at this point we were so bloody broke that we were surviving off rusty tins of beans and chicken flavoured noodles. Any money we had went straight into petrol. Life in a purple and green tin can can be harsh. When we arrived into Sydney we were broke, smelly and hungry so the only thing we hit "big style" were the showers. My lawyer (Conor) headed into the centre to chase after some French business transactions (that's for the boys in the exford) and I headed out to Springwood. Jo and Jim Cashman are living saints. To those of you who dont know them they are my Gran Aunt and uncle. While they were about 1000k away in a lovely placed called Colac outside Melbourne they allowed my lawyer and I to stay at their beautiful home in Springwood. It rocks out there. Out in the middle of the Blue Mountains. I can tell you that after spending a week or so living in a bed that had wheels and an engine it was so freaking good to sleep in a bed!

With our bellies filled and our spirits soaring we hit a lovely place called Palm Beach. If you don't know what this beach is famous for you should watch THIS but open it in a new tab.

If that made no sense to you we were at the home and away beach. Now before you go off ranting "Oh god this twat watches Home and Away" (or H&A for the buffs) There was not much else on the cards for two broke Irish guys in Sydney. It was a bit windy but it was still warm so we went for a bit of a surf. It was good but there was only one set back. Seaweed. At one point I turned around to Conor and shouted over the breaking waves "I have NEVER been in this much seaweed in my life." It was no ordinary seaweed. In Ireland you can take baths in the stuff but at H&A beach you could sand wood with it. It was akin to taking a wavy bath filled with sandpaper and fibreglass. Ive head or ex-foliating but this was ridiculous and missing a layer of skin we headed home.



To be completely honest not much else happened in Sydney except Conor and I regenerating lost skin and a bit of down time. We headed south after a day or two to see if we could go canoeing down kangaroo river out in kangaroo valley (bet you can never guess why the area is called Kangaroo Valley!) but Australia is having its worst floods in a few decades and despite Conor and I thinking that the extra few meters of water would make it more fun they were closed because of the weather. So we decided to go climb a mountain instead.

Mt Kosciuszko

Its named after a polish freedom fighter and was first (officially) climbed by a polish explorer in 1840. 170 years later Conor convinced me to go on the 21k trip up four mountains ending with Mt Kosciuszko. I bitched and I moaned but Conors simple encouragement was "Man Up" So with a fierce hangover and half a subway sandwich for lunch we headed out. I didn't regret it. The snowy mountain range in Oz is breathtakingly amazing. There was snow and hills and all the usual explorer titbits. It was the first time I was cold in about 5 months. The walk back to the car was the longest walk of my life. The longest, coldest walk of my life. We slept in the van and it was finally time for the last stretch of our trip. The road to Melbourne.

Now open and play THIS in a new tab and read the next part of the blog.

Is it playing? Right. I have to tell you something my hansom readers. I am back in Ireland. Its cold here, really FREAKING cold I dont know if I can afford to go back to my adventure land. Im a little worried that Il have to start being an adult and all that malarkey and Im also a bit sad that my trip has come to an end. I have come home for Christmas and I promise il give a few updates on what its like in my home at this time of year because it is extremely entertaining.

That last weekend in Melbourne was great. I met my good friends in the exford hotel in Melbourne and caught up with very good friends in St Kilda. I wish I had more time. I miss them and that town. Perhaps I will have some sort of Xmas miracle special and be able to afford to go back but I need to think seriously about what I am to do with myself. Its not all bad. Its great to see my family and friends. Bloody fantastic. Next up will be my Christmas post. Chat soon

Redman

Traveling Madmen part III

After the experience that was Surfers we headed on down to Byron Bay. Here I ended up loosing my Australian phone. Byron Bay was kick ass and if the weather wasnt so bad we would have had a fantastic time. The hostel we parked outside was called The Arts Factory and it was a a pretty laid back place. This particular weekend it was packed with new age hippies their associates. There was also a reggae concert on. So i can tell you that there were stoners everywhere.

The first night we went out and we ended up in a club and I was amazed to see that the ratio of girls to guys was about 4 to 1. After closer inspection I noticed that most of these girls were infact just that. Girls. 4 to 1 ratio and they are all under 18. I remember thinking "Oh christ its surfers all over again" but it turned it to be a pretty fun night out. We chatted to hookers, got free drinks, skipped a massive que to get into a new club and danced our little Irish hearts out. At one point I was told I was the best dancer in the club. Looking around I thought that either shes pissed or no one can dance but I now think it was an extream combination of both.

The next day there was a reggae concert on in the pub across our hostel. The music was nice and loud so we didn't have to pay to get in. It turned out that to go into the pub, get stoned from secondary smoke and listen to a few different bands would cost us 120 dollars. So we just chilled out in the hostel and met 2 very interesting characters. It was late in the evening and Conor and i had gone out to the car to fetch some things. I decided to take the guitar in with me to jam a bit inside mayhap I would attract some new fiends for us to have a laugh with but we never made it inside. As we were passing by some bushes we hear a gruff male voice call out to us "Hey mate, gona come and play us a song?" Peering into the bush we saw two men, a rasta dude and an aboriginal man. They were smoking something that smelt like paint stripper mixed with fertilizer. Conor and I took one look at each other and something of a silent "This could be brilliant" passed between us and we sat down next to them. The rasta dude played a song and it was a classic. For a guy who, at that moment, was having trouble telling left from right he sure could sing. He played a song about imagining having a better life but life was pretty alright as it was. When he finished his aboriginal friend showed us his story stick which was hung around his neck. Apparently "you white guys and the man" are not supposed to be told about them but he blessed us with the story anyway and to be honest im not going to go into detail. I would need to show you guys the stick with he drawings on it to explain it and you lot are all too white to hear the story.

After that night it was time for the long haul drive to Sydney.

More soon

Redman

Traveling Madmen Part II

Whats green and purple, travels at 40kph (up hill) and is full of energy drinks and pasta. If you haven't guessed its our van.



Jucy Lucy is our 1.5 meter tall camper van made from metal and hope. Mostly hope. She got us from Brisbane to Melbourne without much incident, well we did manage to hit a kangaroo but he was fine. Im sure he has a freakish fear of cars now but thats a good thing.....right? The first stop after Brisbane was Surfers Paradise.

I would now like to talk about what I saw in Surfers


Schoolies


Pronounced - school·ie

–noun
1.
a fish that swims within a school.
2.
Australian Informal. a schoolteacher or student.

At this time of year the students in the high school final years are let out of their galvanized country homes to flock....wait....flock is too soft a word SWARM to the gold coast to drink, curse (not very brightly) and fornicate in public. We were convinced to go on one of those "G'day mate! Fancy going on a night out?" trips. We agreed and attended. The drink was good, the music was what you would expect it to be in a series o night clubs and the people were, for the most part, underage. I have never seen such a gathering of underagers in my life. There was, and I shit you not, about 1000 of them crowding the center of town when Conor and I stumbled out of the last nightclub. There were kids dancing on bins, fighting, getting sick, fighting on bins while getting sick, fighting to get sick into bins, fighting bins of sick and being escorted home by either the police or taking the scenic route home via the stomach pump ward and Im relatively sure that the local hospital has a ward dedicated to this by now and if it doesn't it would need one or at least a tent set up on the main beach or something like that.

I felt old.

Old and bitter

I felt, more than once, like going up to one of these "schoolies" slapping them across the face and asking them in my most horrified Irish mammy voice "Does your mother know you are out this late?" or "Do you even know how to spell the word vagina? Get off that girl! I have a some words for you to learn. Fatherhood and child benefit"

I guess i was, in a way, slightly jealous. I looked at one or too and saw me. A younger, drunker me. A younger drunker me fighting to get sick in a bin. Then I remembered. Responsibility is about to hit them. You finish school and the wonderful, criticizing, judging world comes crashing down. Happy with this thought I felt better about the whole thing. Let them have their fun and watch out for the bins in Surfers Paradise.

Redman out