After the tumultuous, political carnage-filled last few months, welcome to the ‘silly season’ as the media call it. In other words there’s feck all happening in the news. This is the time of year when there is so little news that Ryan Tubridy can get a six page spread and the cover of a Sunday supplement magazine to talk about himself. The only good thing about that was, it was straight out of the wrapper and into the base of the budgie cage, and we had great craic on Sunday afternoon placing bets as to when our budgie Biffo would score a direct hit! There is so little going on that Miriam O’Callaghan can get on the cover of every Irish magazine out there, as she is the only programme being made courtesy of your licence fee this summer. There is so little going on that the media try and milk even the smallest story for all it’s worth; like the mean ould judges not taking a pay cut like us peasants. Mind you, who of us would take a voluntary pay cut if it wasn’t forced on ya? Suddenly the traffic in Slane becomes headline news; people whinging about getting there and getting back, six Euros for a pint…well, it serves yis all right, for thinking Oasis are any good in the first place! When Susan Boyle has another breakdown, it’s front page news. Those people should be ashamed putting a poor madser out on the road in the first place!
Even the old summer reliables aren’t living up to expectations; it’s already Day 21 in the Big Brother house and so far, nothing’s happened! It’s a sad day when watching Nationwide is more interesting that reality TV.
Yes, it looks like life is settling back into some kind of boring normality; no election craic, no clerical abuse, no ‘who’s going to host the Late, Late’ debates, it’s so dull here that even Gerry Ryan’s gone on holidays! Life gets awful boring for us Irish when there’s nothing to complain about. But don’t fear grumpy bollixes of Ireland, by next week you’ll be in a comfortable rage as the school summer holidays kick off and our towns will be flooded with bored, disaffected students with nothing to do for two months.
Podge

This could be our summer of discontent! Well, discontented students anyway. Not since the Eighties has Ireland faced such a crisis. When the Celtic Tiger was in full swing, the youth would be kept well entertained with post Leaving cert distress holidays in the sun, followed by summer camps, summer jobs and all manner of activities that would distract them from their natural instincts for destruction and general divilment. But this summer all that’s changed. There’s no jobs for the little bollixes, their parents can’t afford any fancy camps or holidays and before long the hole scratching and boredom will manifest itself into anarchy. For years they were too busy lapping up the Celtic Tigers milk to be bothered with shouting abuse at passers by, they were too distracted with their summer jobs to spraying walls with graffiti like ‘Rodge is gayer!” But now, I fear all that’s going to return with a vengeance. It’s time to seal up your letterboxes for fear of a piss soaked hall carpet in the morning. Lock up your pets at night, unless you want to find them splattered all over your driveway after that banger up their hole went off. And if you’re over sixty, never go out after seven at night, unless you want you want a good verbal assaulting.
Y’see it doesn’t matter how well they’ve done in their exams, or how well behaved they are at home, once the youth are bored, our towns become melting pots of messing.
Once again our government have missed the boat; they must have seen it coming but did nothing about it. How come there is no enforced FCA camps to get the youth off our streets and put some manners on them?
Well, we’re not taking any chances and our first step is buying one of them high pitched whining things that the shops install, that makes teenagers uncomfortable so that they don’t loiter in front of our gaff, either that or ‘The Priests’ CD, which will do the same thing for half the money! Above all be vigilant, as the youth are getting restless!
Rodge

I don’t know about you lot, but I’m getting in a holiday mood. I can’t help it; I’m being bombarded with it! There’s that ad on the telly every five minutes telling me to holiday in Ireland, sure there’s great deals, and there’s all those suntan lotion ads and me favourite of the moment - the one about the shower gel that makes your balls swell up; Muchas Maracas!! And of course when the sun comes, even if it’s between torrential downpours, it gets me thinking I need a break from me hum drum life. But do I stay on the Emerald Isle, ‘cause I haven’t seen the half of it’ or, ‘right here, right now’ as they keep reminding me or do I dare venture foreign? It’s a tough decision, but with shag all money in this recession, the options are limited.
If I stay at home and book into a B&B by the sea, what can I expect? Well, despite the tantalising offers of free dinners, free tanks of petrol and an extra night free of charge, you’ve always got to remember that we’re Irish and ya really get nothing for free. Oh the dinner’s free alright, if you’re happy with stew for two weeks, but if you want something to drink with it, they’ll nab ya with overpriced plonk, or the a-la-carte menu! Then of course you’ll be wanting to head down to the strand for a relaxing day of burning and swimming, unfortunately it usually goes more like this; you pull back the curtains, the sun is splitting the stones, you lather up on the cooking oil for nice tan and then squeeze into the shorts or  ‘plum flatteners’ (the same ones that you’ve worn since you were nineteen). You pack up the lilo, the windbreaker, your transistor, a picnic blanket and some cans of beer and off ya go. But soon as your toe hits the sand the wind kicks up and the heavens open. Repeat that every day for two weeks and you’ll come home more stressed than Colin Farrell’s mother at her son’s gay wedding! But at least if you’re holidaying here it’s only a short damp trip home to resume your miserable life. It’s a whole other ballgame when you decide to do what’s unnatural for the Irish and that’s travel foreign. I’ll hand you over now to my well-travelled brother to tell ya what you can expect if you dare venture towards the airport!
Podge

When I was growing up, I always dreamed of travelling abroad and seeing the world; the pyramids, the Great Wall of China, Niagara Falls and the Pussy Ranch, Nevada (where prossies are legal!) Unfortunately that actually costs actual money and most Irish people can only afford the ‘package deal’. Your trip starts off on an optimistic note, which is quickly bate out of ya as soon as you reach the airport. Hours of queues to check in, followed by more hours of queues through the shoe stench ridden security systems. “I’m afraid your Hush Puppies could be used as a deadly weapon sir!”
Then there’s the obligatory delay of two hours where they leave ya drowning in your own ball sweat on the runway. But once you take off, the optimistic feeling returns, but only for a moment as the leeching airline immediately starts eating into your holiday money persuading you to buy a seven Euro ham and plastic sandwich and three Euro for a cup of lukewarm tea. But never mind because after a couple of hours you finally land and it’s only another couple of hours later that your luggage follows. Then there’s the endless drive through the night, where you make a stop to drop other holiday makers at every single hotel along the Costa Del Shite until you arrive at the last hotel; yours! Now it’s only a short hop up the eighty-eight steps to your room. But at least you’ve made it! When the morning comes, you’re ready for your holidays. So what if the air con is non existent, that there’s something living in your mattress that’s been draining your blood all night, or that there’s a weird mould growing in the shower reminiscent of the Elephant Man’s face, or that there’s a building site next to your window. It’s of no consequence whatsoever because the beach is where it’s at! So you lather up on the cooking oil for a nice tan and then squeeze into the plum flatteners. You pack up the lilo, the windbreaker, your transistor, a picnic blanket and some cans of beer and off ya go. Unfortunately it’s a ten Euro bus trip to the postage stamp shingle beach where you’re plagued by gypsies hawking you for everything from bracelets to bongs! Sure you’ve got the sunshine, but all it does is heat up the stench from the open sewer that bisects the strand. So there you are, no escape from a fortnight in Hellidorm, where you’ll come back with some souvenirs like typhoid tummy, hepatitis C or Swine Flu! Tell ya what, I going nowhere this year!
Rodge

Well, well, since I last wrote we, the good people of Ireland, stuck two fingers up to the two F’s and told Fianna Fail to F off! We’ve had enough of Biffo’s bufoonery, enough of the good time party who rode the Celtic Tiger like a gimp at an Elton John bash, pandered to bent bankers and dodgy developers and have now left the country like a cruise ship full of swine flu victims, nobody wants to know us. As we all know Biffo is now as welcome as a turd in a paddling pool, the Fianna Fools have already said ‘Yeah’ we know he’s a shockin’ embarrassment, but if you voters keep us in here we’ll get rid of the eejit as soon as we can.’ Then there’s the ol’chestnut that they’re paying the price for the unpopular decisions that have had to be made over the last year. Eh, no! Here’s how I see it: Yis got yourselves a leader who had no empathy for the people, someone who had didn’t have it in him to tell the hundreds of thousands of people who feared for their livelihoods and their homes that yes, things will be tough but we’ll get through this together and we’ll come out of  this better and stronger. Where was the, ‘Yes we can!’ Biffo the Builder?
Wouldn’t it be great if we could all be rewarded not just for success but failure too?
We I’m afraid that is happening right now, but not for peasant shites the likes of you and me. No, it seems to qualify for this cash giveaway you have to have been an MEP and have sat on your arse for five years, getting a huge salary plus expenses, and then, no matter if you leave of your own accord or like Mary Lou McDonald or Eoin Sinnott get booted out by the voters, a rainbow appears with a crock of gold just for being there, no matter if you were good or bad at the job, no matter if you were voted out ya still get the golden hand shake. I tell ya what, you’ll be seeing my poster on every lamppost in the counry in five years time.
And what about Declan Ganley-Gate! I have to say I nearly shat meself laughing over the whole recount fiasco. Just like that cocky leaving cert student, (usually called Turlough or Iarlaith) who just can’t face the fact that he only got an A2 in higher Classical Studies, (no, I don’t know what that is either,) sulkingly demands this paper re-checked only to find he’s been marked down. Yes, Declan “let’s just sell military communictions systems to the US Government” Ganley had a bomb dropped on him on Monday, when the Libertas enigma demanded a recount, and found out that he had LOST 3000 votes!  And there was I thinking there was no craic in this election at all!
Podge

I’m only getting over poor ol’ madser Susan Boyle’s defeat to a bunch of kids who should be in a borstal, when along comes that summer extravaganza of vacuous wannabies all couped up in a house together. No, I’m not talking about the Oireactas Report, it’s Big Brother 10. Yes, the tenth BB has already begun and by my reckoning that’s at least 150 Z-list celebs who have been shat out into the world of show business. Now, me and the Big Brother (that’s Podge) can’t complain as the majority of these bag-packers and fudge-packers will end up on The Podge and Rodge Show, well the ones with big baps will anyway, so I suppose we’re guilty of perpetuating the myth that these people have a discernable talent other than just moochin’ around a day-glo bungalow for 13 weeks. Sure with half the country unemployed a stint in the house might be a worth considering, I mean it’s the equivelent of a three month holiday full board, and the only thing you’ll have to put up with are a few ladymen, a gobshite rapper, a couple of nut jobs and a rampant lezzer, jaysus sounds no worse than the Athlone night bus!
Of course our own fair isle is represented this year by Noirin Kelly, Dunnes Stores’ only attractive retail manager ever! It’s true Dunnes just don’t have the lookers, do they? (I don’t care I’m banned from Dunnes Stores. By the way those thongs were for my Mother!) But in fairness, I might just watch the show to keep an eye on Noirin as she’s an absolute stunner and I’ll tell you something else… she can mop up my dairy aisle anytime!
Rodge 
       

Only two days to go before we all head down to the polling booths and vote for people that we all despise. It’s almost impossible to choose anyone this year, what with the state of the country. They might have been smiling down at us from the lampposts for the last month, but if you look into their eyes there’s not a single one you’d trust. So how will you decide how to vote? Will it be based on the individual’s performance to date or their stance on local and European issues? It’s up to you voters where you put your ‘X’.  But this year because they’re all as bad as each other, we’ve decided to use some science in our voting. With the women it’s easy, whether it’s Fianna Fail, Fianna Gael, Labour or the Greens, you just pick the one ya fancy the most. With fellas it’s a little more difficult, and that’s why we’ve decided to vote according to their hairstyles. You see you can tell a lot about a man by the way he’s groomed.
We had high hopes for celebrity candidate George Lee, but the hair he’s sporting in his poster with the little spiky fringe is less politician and more something you’d see driving a suped up 1989 Honda Civic boy racer machine! There are some spectacular partings like Fianna Fail’s Eoin Ryan, but I wonder do partings reveal political bias? The further to the right of the head; could mean right wing views. A lot of Greens sport partings to the left, if you know what I mean. Watch out for any politician sporting facial hair, it means their hiding something! Prionsias De Rossa for instance is so hairy that its impossible to read him, and as for JJ Power, a Green from Naas, he could be hiding a nest of illegal immigrants in his beard for all we know. Baldies on the other hand have nothing to hide, slapheads like Terence Corish from the Greens or Cork East’s Ned O’Keefe are confident baldies, however be careful when voting for high foreheaded candidates like Ronan Keating wannabe Stephen Agnew or Independent James Coyle who can’t make up their minds, and obviously spend way too much time fiddling about with the few strands they have left, rather than looking after their constituents. Then there’s those with full heads of hair; look at Labour’s Tom Fortune for instance who has such an impressive head of hair that he doesn’t have to be concerned about it at all. Or how about Fianna Fail Cork MEP Brian Crowley; sure he’s so busy working for the people that he hasn’t changed his ‘Jim Davidson’ hairstyle since the Seventies. But beware of the fanny headed fellas like Ian Gallagher, a Green from Cork City who looks like he’d be more at home in a boyband than on the council, or mini Tubridy whose floaty hair shows a lack of discipline. So there ya have it; if you can’t decide who to vote for, judge them on their hair. Whether you fancy the John Paul the second stylings of Pat ‘The Pope’ Gallagher, Gay Mitchell’s comb over or legendary Clara man John Braken’s afro, it’s up to you voters. As in this election, the hair is mightier than the sword!
Podge & Rodge

First things first I’d like to clear something up before the rumour mill starts; that wasn’t our shotgun at the Boyzone gig the other night. Of course we hate their music with a passion and that Eoghan Quigg is shaping up to be another Keating monster, but killing them, that’s a taking it a bit too far. But it turned out that the gun was one of a number of replica rifles used as props during one of their poncey dance routines, you know the ones they do to distract you from how bad they are at singing! Mind you, whose idea was it to be waving guns at a gig in Belfast in the first place? But when you think about it, having a shotgun at a Boyzone concert isn’t such a bad idea after all, you know as a service to its customers. The gun would be aimed (pardon the pun) at the poor parents that are dragged along to the gig and who can’t take any more choreographed karaoke caterwauling from Ireland’s premier has-beens. Yes, it would be the selfish way out, but honestly, if you had to first sit through thirty minutes of the singing midget haircut Quigg, then listen to Ronan Keating murder another classic like ‘Father and Son’ or ‘Love Me For a Reason’ you’d want to take the quick and easy way out! In fact there are a few other gigs coming up this year that I think should offer the similar options. Next time Westlife are playing, how about setting up a rotten fruit and veg stall either side of the stage for bored parents to hurl at Nicky Byrne while they crucify ‘Uptown Girl’. The promoters could earn a fortune at The Jonas Brothers gig with trays of rotten eggs to hurl willy-nilly at the professional virgins as they ‘rock out’ the blandest hits known to mankind. Personally I’d even fork out the ticket price to see the ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ roadshow, just to chuck rotten cabbages at Susan Boyle…mind you, after the final this weekend, will anyone even remember who she is anyway a week from now? As for The Priests who are playing in the O2 on June 22nd, I’m not sure what we should be throwing at them? Actually, why not turn it around; how about they throw the money that people have forked out on tickets into the reconciliation fund that Church are refusing to renegotiate!
Podge

I haven’t been sleeping well at all these nights. No, it’s nothing to do with the recession or that recurring dream of Susan Boyle in a negligee sitting at the end of me bed licking the filling out of a custard cream. No, for the last month I’ve been waking up in a sweat, dreaming about the bogeyman. It’s nothing to do with the years I spent in the Ballydung CBS coming back to haunt me, it was a vivid image of a hairy faced werewolf man who appeared only at night peering through my bedroom window. And every time I turned on the light, he’d disappear into the darkness! It has been going on for weeks now, but it was only when I finally told Podge this week that we got to the bottom of the bogeyman scare. What I hadn’t noticed was that some gobshite had stuck a poster of the hairy-palmed leader of the Labour Party Proinsias De Rossa on the telegraph pole right outside me bedroom window!
The sooner this feckin election thing is over the better! Not only can these posters give ya nightmares, but they can be dangerous in a number of ways. How many more people will be beheaded by Dick Roche’s poster as the wind rips it off a lamppost and it comes hurtling towards an innocent cyclist like Oddjob’s slicing hat from the James Bond movies? What about the accidents caused by slipped posters that end up covering traffic lights? What about young fellas rear-ending other drivers ‘cause the blood has been drained from their heads to their horns as they fantasise about ticking Maria Parodi’s box as they drive home? And then there’s the graffiti. Of course it’s funny the first time you see mickeys drawn all over Tubridy’s brother’s face, a Hitler moustache on Mitchill McLaughlin or pair of boobs on Mary Lou McDonald, but eventually even the craic goes out of that.
I think like the rest of the country we’ll all be glad to see the back of this election and be rid of these eyesore posters once and for all. And then I’ll be able to sleep in peace and get back to dreaming about Susan Boyle and custard creams…oooh!
Rodge

Wasn’t it great to get a bit of good news this weekend as despite the rain and against all the odds, fellow midlander Shane Lowry took Baltray by storm and only went and won the feckin’ Irish Open. In these turbulent times we need more fairytale stories like Shane’s to perk us up. Even fellow Clara man and doomed leader of our country Biffo managed to be distracted from his Titanic job for a couple of moments with Shane’s good fortune. But Biffo’s army will need a lot more distractions to deflect from the fact that his government are falling apart at the seams. Mind you the story of the Green’s abandoning ship and the impending meltdown at the elections on June 5th, pale in tabloid insignificance compared to the craic across the pond in Britland with the MP’s expenses scandal. At first the British tax payer couldn’t believe that they were paying for hotel room porn for one of their elected (that gives a whole new meaning to ‘tax relief!’) but that was only the tip of the iceberg as they now find out that they’ve been paying for castle moats, interior decorators, king sized beds, swimming pools, country manor helipads and right down to £2.50 Tampax claim for a male Tory MP! It’s a right honourable scandal. Mind you, isn’t funny how none of our politicians have stepped forward and condemned their British counterparts. I wonder why that is; surely it couldn’t mean that our elected officials have anything to hide?
Unfortunately our history of scamming politicians doesn’t bode well for the Irish taxpayer, who in the past has seen its fare share of backhanders, double-dealing and expense scamming. And of course all the current scams and scandals that the Brit MPs have been pulling off pale into insignificance when compared to some of our boyos like Ray Burke, Michael Lowry, Bertie and the master of them all; Charlie Haughey; who whilst during a recession just like this, was preaching belt tightening and implementing budget cuts while he was off buying race horses, yachts, mansions and having an affair on the tax payers shilling. And one expense that even the most bare faced Brit MP will never top; CJ actually bought himself a feckin’ island! Now that’s scamming of a whole other league!
Podge

Alright I’ll admit it, I watched the Eurovision song contest and I’m neither gay nor twelve years old, but I thought since the weather was so shite and there was nothing else on the box, I’d give it a lash. Now I remember watching the Eurovision back in the days when we only had two channels on the tellybox and it was actually a bit of craic. That was back in the when I could actually name all the countries in Europe…Azerbaijan? I mean come on! Back in the Sixties, Seventies and Eighties we were actually in with a sniff of winning, there was none of the commie bloc voting or whatever the gays are complaining about this year. It was a straightforward inter-country competition were the best song won. There were fairly decent songs from the likes of Sandy Shaw, Johnny Logan, Lulu, Brotherhood of Man, Bucks Fizz and Abba. Sure there was the odd funny act, but they never won it. But nowadays it’s a free for all, and even the weirdest acts are in with a chance of winning, with singing Satanists Lordi putting the final nail in the competition’s coffin in 2006!
I felt sorry for Sinead Mulvey and Black Daisy as they ended up being no better than Dustin the Turkey and that’s got to smart! Even Ronan Keating’s inflated ego (he actually said on GMTV that he thought his song was too good for Eurovision!) wasn’t enough to get his Danish clone above thirteenth place! Even the fact that Dita Von Teese was stripping for Germany’s entry didn’t make it any more exciting. It was a very boring event, proven by the fact that most people were talking about the staging than about the actual acts. And so a Norwegian gobshite with a violin winds up winning the feckin thing. Look I’ve been fiddling with meself for years but I don’t expect to get a prize for it!
No, I’m done with the Snore-o-vision once for all and I should have gone for that walk in the rain like Podge suggested, or even practiced my own fiddling, as either would have been more entertaining!
Rodge

Some things change and some things stay the same because despite RTE’s big announcement that Tubridy will be the new host of the Late Late Show, all they’ve really done is replace ‘The Plank’ with ‘The Twig’. At least my tradition of not watching RTE 1 on a Friday night can continue uninterrupted.
Now if they’d gone for the Late Late Cleavage option of Miriam I might have tuned in just to see how low-cut her dresses were, if they’d opted for G Ryan at least you’d be guaranteed a bit of controversy, as he’d inevitably let his perversions slip and end up talking about all manner of sex subjects and scandal. But with Tubridy they’ve opted for the safe option, there will be no scandal, no risk and really no reason to tune in at all to the Tubriccino Show on Friday nights. Like his Saturday night blandfest you can be guaranteed a level of South Dublin ponciness that presumes that everyone in the country has read ‘Redemption Falls’ and watched the entire series of ‘George Gently’, except most of us outside the Pale haven’t and never will.
The only good news to come out of his appointment is that it might free up Saturday nights for a good Western and save you from accidentally switching over to RTE and catching the over-subscribed Camembert Quartet doing one of their awful cover versions! He can take his corduroy suits with him, but that band’s got to go!
Maybe I sound bitter and it’s not just because I put 100 Euro on Miriam down in Paddy Powers, but Tuberware seems to have it all, he’s got the most prestigious job on Irish television, he’s got his radio show, a wardrobe with a corduroy suit for everyday of the week, the entire Inspector Morse DVD collection, a book deal writing about The Kennedys (of course) and last but not least, he’s banging Aoibhinn Ni Shuilleabhain…that lad’s literally coming up smelling of Roses!
Podge

Of course Ryan isn’t the only Tubridy that’s been in the running for something, sure isn’t his stick-thin younger brother Garrett running for Fianna Fail? So not only will we have a Tubridy ruining our Friday nights, you’ll have one calling to your front door looking for votes. Mind you, I don’t know who I’m going to vote for. I can’t say I trust any politicians from any party. Even the Greens have had to use big plastic bio poisonous posters this year, so what message is that giving? Until this week I thought Libertas was a sanitary product for leaky ladies! So I’ve had to revert to my old voting technique of choosing a candidate based on how sexy they are. I’ve been driving all over the country and imagining what those smiling ladies hanging off the poles would be liking hanging off my pole. Yes, I’m voting this election with my erection. Already I’ve had an encounter at a traffic light with Sinn Fein fox Mary Lou McDonald undressing me with her eyes. Or how about fiery Fianna Fail redhead Aoife Brennan? Mary Black look-alike Libertas Lolita Caroline Simmons? I’ve also me eye on Labour lovely Maria Parodi. Mind you it’s going to be hard for any of them to beat the sexiest of them all; Toireasa Ferris who’s political viewpoint and Sinn Fein credentials mean nothing once you look into those sexy eyes. The blond bombshell gets my vote very time…opps sorry, shouldn’t be mentioning ‘bomb’ and Sinn Fein in the same sentence. But she is the hottest politician in Ireland and lets just say I’ll be ticking her box in the booth on June 5th.
Of course before all that, Ireland will be looking for votes of a different kind, as Sinead Mulvey and Black Daisy try and get through to the finals of the Eurovision tomorrow night in Moscow. We wish the girls all the best in the gayest contest in the world. Hopefully they’ll make up for last year’s turkey, although I’d say the last thing this country needs is to win the Eurovision as we’re down to our last pennies and we couldn’t possibly afford to host the thing! And besides aren’t we only after saying goodbye to a whole load of foreigners, last thing we need is them coming back!
Rodge

Of course, just as the weather’s improving a bit and the evenings are getting longer, there’s something to drag us down again, and I’m talking about something far more sickening than swine flu; it’s the local elections. I don’t know about you lot but I’ve had it up to here with so-called politicians, trespassing on my land, traipsing up to my door and hangin’ out of the doorbell just as Gok’s Fashion Fix is about to start on the tellybox. And when you finally cave and open the feckin’ door, you get a pair of gobshites telling ya how they’re going to fix everything, and that my friends, includes the Fianna Fail candidates, who unbelievably still have the gall to stand on my doorstep and ask for my vote. Mind you, you’ve got to admire the balls of any Fianna Fail candidate as they still canvas despite being repeatedly covered in rotten eggs and flour!
Who on earth would want to be a politician these days anyway? It’s got the same popularity level as a Clamper or a TV license inspector…mind you, the benefits of being say, a sacked junior minister might outstrip the shame with 50 grand in your back pocket for your troubles!
Of course TV in Ireland is as volatile as politics these days. People getting fired, tribunals and walkouts. How could they get rid of the Show-a-gee sisters?? Yes, of course the show was shite, but the RTE bosses were missing the point! Thousands of lonely farmers turned the sound down and dreamt of a Seoige sandwich, with them as the meat filling! It was a bachelor’s dream show and they took it away from us. It’s really not the same dreaming of a sandwich with Blathnaid and AA roadwatch’s Trevor Keegan! Then there’s lovely Lorraine Keane, having a falling out with TV3, and lets not forget they took Kathryn Thomas out of a bikini and into a dress and shoved her behind a spinning wheel! It’s TV totty carnage out there! How come we, the viewers don’t get to vote on that! Are you really telling me that I’m going to have to watch more Susan ‘the face of a robbers dog’ Boyle on X Factor and less of lovely Sile? This is worse news than the recession!
Oh, hold on that’s the doorbell again…where’s me shotgun!
Podge

Podge says you that you can actually catch swine flu by simply watching Susan Boyle on the telly, but I’m not sure. He also suggested that I take good dose of mercury in my All Bran as a preventative measure as it’s the only thing that kills the virus. This is par for the course, as whenever Podge gets bored he comes up with some scheme to bump me off.
But I do agree that it’s probably the worst timed election ever, with hatred for politicians of any party at an all time high! Mind you the canvassing got me thinking; what if TV presenters had to canvas door-to-door for votes? For instance this whole Late Late show debate could be solved democratically by the people. Send all the potential hosts out on the campaign trail and see who the Irish public want to watch on Friday nights. I’d like to see Tubridy having to travel beyond the Pale and talk to real people, not people that read books, go to wine bars or listen to Miles Davis. I’d love to see how the stick man would cope in lawless places, the likes of like Ballinafad! How would G Ryan fare at a county hall farmers’ debate on the unpopular Integrated Administrative Control System, rather than issues that effect only Dublin ponces! I for one would relish the thought of the Amazing Seventy Foot Woman Miriam O’Callaghan pounding down our driveway looking for votes. Like all canvassers she’d have to come in for a cup of tea and a chat with her people. She wouldn’t be able to say anything as I ogled at her magnificent boobs, for fear of losing my valuable vote! Mind you there is a flaw to all this, there’s always the chance that you might open the door and find yourself face to face with the candidate for the Deluded Party Mark Cagney looking for your support!
Anyway it’s something to think about, as anything is better than a bunch of RTE suits deciding for us! It’s all right for them, but we’re the ones that have to watch it!
Oh, there’s a knock on the door, I’ve got to go and prevent the brother from blowing another hole in a Fianna Failers back bench!
Rodge

Now we’re not ones to be bitter or begrudging…oh, wait a second we are! But what the hell were last week’s TV Now Awards all about? Like the rest of yis we thought that the awards people threw the ‘Ireland AM’ show a bone last year by letting them win ‘Favourite Irish TV show’ – kinda like at sports day when everyone gets a medal, even the slow ones.
But honest to God, they won it again this year! That’s sending out the wrong message entirely. Are we really saying that there’s not a better television show in Ireland than ‘Ireland AM’ in the last two years? I mean really, is it that bad? Either the readers of TV Now are entirely made up of pre-menstrual women or they’re clever buggers and it was all a protest vote, just to mess with the system. If it’s the former then we’re really in the shits and the consequences could be dire. For starters Mark Cagney’s already inflated ego will be pushed to bursting point, even now, he actually believes that he is in with a shot of presenting the Late Late Show. Alan Hughes will become even more unbearable, and his Hi De Hi presenting style will reach never before seen levels of campdom. Never mind Tommy Tiernan’s comedy marathon, that’ll be nothing as Aidan Cooney will feel so invincible he’ll end up eating himself to death live on television with Mrs Odlum’s recipes! This is definitely a case where too much encouragement can be a bad thing, and before the TV3 and Ireland AM people get too big a head, remember; you’re a station where your biggest star is Martin King!
But maybe this is the kick up the hole that TV in Ireland needs. Maybe young creative people will start coming up with new ideas. If you look around, I think change is in the air in this country and all kinds of new brave ideas will be born out of the shite state we’re in now. I mean look; already there’s Priests leaving to go off and marry their fancy women in Florida! It’s starting at the grass roots church level and working its way up through society, the government and soon the days when drivel like Ireland AM can win ‘Best TV Programme’ awards two years in a row will be a distant stain in our country’s entertainment past.
Podge

The TV show finished up last week and quite frankly I’m at a bit of a loose end, usually I spend the summer scratching me hole, picking up the dole and getting spat on by the local yobs. But for once I’m actually thinking of getting into permanent employment. And I’ve me eye on the ultimate job, that queues haven’t formed for yet.
Y’see during this recession when people are turning back to the church, the church seems to be turning away from them. Look at Father O’Brien in Wexford announcing to his parish that after thirty seven years he’s running off to Florida to get married and of course there’s our famous touring priests, too busy making a holy show of themselves rockin’ n rollin’ around the world to attend to their parishes. So maybe this could be one solution to our spiralling unemployment figures. That’s right job seekers; it’s time to consider the cushiest number of all; the priesthood!
The perks are great; a free uniform, a free gaff, a woman to clean up after ya, free health insurance, a retirement plan and all the locals having to look up to ya. It’s the ultimate power trip. You can even drink on the job, in fact that’s a requirement, there’s plenty of loose change you can dip into and you get to pontificate about all kinds of things to a willing audience. And it doesn’t end there, having a dog collar is like having a free pass; into the cinema, on the bus and discounts in the local Spar. All this can be yours job seekers simply by pretending to be celibate, doing a couple of years training and reading stories from a thousand year old book of fiction. It’s a no brainer when you think about it, and there’s plenty of vacancies! So while we’re not on the telly, I’m getting me CV together, brushing up on the Good Book, watching Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ, breaking in a pair of sandals and looking forward to a life of comfort, security and respect.
It was once jobs in banks, the high tech industry or the property game, and now folks it’s working for God!
Rodge

It was the busiest Easter for years in churches the length and breadth of the country. It’s a fact you see, that in bad times, there’s a few things people turn to: gambling, drink and the church. (Though not necessarily all three or in that order).
1) Gambling: the National Lottery jackpot was the highest in a long time last weekend and the Irish Grand National was Easter Monday. Still, after the blow of the budget you’d think people would be saving every penny. But no, it’s when the chips are down that even non-gamblers take a chance on a punt. Everyone in the country was queuing up for their quick-picks at lottery kiosks, and bets were ‘significantly’ up at Fairyhouse so we were told. Even Bertie was there trying to make up some of the difference on his lost pension, and Michael O’Leary was spotted hoping to win back some of the losses on the downturn of sales of in-flight Bullseye Baggies. Rodge even fancied his chances at the Best Dressed Lady competition, but thank jaysus I managed to talk him out of it (I’ve yet to talk him out of the high heels though). 
2) Drink: yes we all know pub attendance is down and many are sadly shutting their doors for good, but this doesn’t mean people are drinking less. In fact they’re drinking more. But the cheaper stuff. Lidl vodka, home brew and anything that comes in a 2 litre plastic bottle will do nicely. Fifteen euro for two pints and a whiskey? No thanks; we picked up 24 bottles of Stella and a bottle of Bushmills for the same price.
3) The Church: the Celtic Tiger saw more bums on wine bar seats and less on pews. But all that’s changing. Church attendances are up as people look for answers (and a bit of free heating). Let’s face it, a priest is a lot cheaper than a shrink! I’m thinking of cashing in on the trend and setting up my own religion. If that fella L Ron Hubbard could con millions out of the likes of Tom Cruise and Travolta, I reckon I could get a few quid out of a couple of ex Fair City stars and out of work presenters with my own celebrity cult, I mean church. It could be the answer to all my recession woes. A hefty joining fee, a bit of secrecy, a magic handshake, a hint of salvation, and I might just have something – the church of Codology anyone?

Podge


Ah it was great to finally finish up the Lenten fasting over Easter. Well, it would have been if I’d actually given anything up. It’s always a good laugh to see the lengths people go to get a drink on Good Friday. Catching a ferry to Holyhead, booking a return train ticket to Cork, getting a table on a overpriced floating restaurant on a canal or checking into a hotel and emptying thr mini bar. But even I can work out the easiest option: just drink at home for the day if you want to! Unless the budget put a levy on that too… Like everyone else in the country, I’ve spent the whole week with a calculator trying to work out how much worse off we are after this poxy budget, but don’t even know where to begin. I’m still confused by all of it, but Podge looks after all our money so I’m leaving it to him. He’s already told me there’s a 10% levy on people with red hair called Rodge. No one else I’ve spoken to has heard about that one but he knows best so I guess I’ll just have to take the pain. One place there was definitely no cutbacks this week was in the Manor for our last two shows of the season. Monday night we had two music legends in the kitchen – husky voiced songstress Elkie Brooks, and the one and only Dave Bartram from Showaddywaddy. Ah there’s nothing shoddy about Showaddywaddy! Nothing shoddy about Elkie either. Michael Parkinson once said she could sing the contents of a shopping catalogue and make something of it, so we put that to the test with this week’s Lidl specials. And do you know what? Parky was right! This season has been so great, we had a ‘best of’ show for Tuesday night. I have to say, it’s been a brilliant series, and as much as I loved having a new lady in the Manor every week at the start, I’m going to miss Caroline when she heads off to America. With those lips of hers, she could get a job in the White House if the acting doesn’t work out, but then Podge reminded me Clinton’s not there any more. Anyway, just to let yiz all know, by popular demand, we’ll be doing more Best of the Podge and Rodge shows over the summer and even better news is, there’s no extra levy for watching them!

Rodge