There was a short period of time when Jeremy Healy was a hero of mine. Back in 1982, before I really knew what clothes were for, I was smitten by a pair of musical designer tramps called Haysi Fantayzee, featuring Jeremy ‘Jeremiah’ Healy and the lovely Kate Garner. I’d never seen donkey jackets look cool on anyone, even Michael Foot, so it was rather a surprise to see these two leaping around on Top of the Pops, strutting a ‘style’ that looked, for about thirty seconds, like it might catch on. Apart from hits like John Wayne Is Big Leggy and Shiny Shiny, they were famed for this scruffy appearance, their saucy utterings and their penchant for drawing designs on their clothes and footwear using silver and gold felt tip pens. Heroic! Continue reading
Archive for the Shopping Category
First, a disclaimer: I know that not all Dublin taxi drivers have over-bitten, vinegar-soaked fingernails, nor do they all wear chafing hessian underpants – in other words, they’re not universally irritable, intolerant, impatient, racist, shoulder-chipped prole chauffeurs. I also understand that, as self-employed people, time generally equals money in their line of business. And I have had more than my fair share of thoroughly pleasant, courteous, considerate cabbies in my time too.
However, a little good will goes a long way and it’s distinctly lacking in some quarters. Three times recently I’ve got into a pre-booked taxi to find the meter already running. Continue reading
Have you seen this print ad? It’s for a well-known ‘value’ furniture store who probably thought it’d be really cute to advertise its stair carpet and underlay service with a sleeping toddler, presumably to show you just how snug it would be.
Unfortunately, it only looks as if the child has slipped down the stairs and ended up badly injured. Everyone I’ve shown it to agrees, so how did they fail to spot this? Didn’t want to upset the photographer, maybe? Continue reading
The arrogance of The English (formerly known as the England football team) and misguided opinion of their own importance continues to show it knows no boundaries or sense of perspective. Not only have they launched a new and expensive football kit when their popularity is at an all-time low, and even their most stupidly die-hard fans are unlikely to want to buy it, they have returned to the preposterous idea that they are somehow “Britain” by once again manufacturing BLUE shorts.
It always struck me as being the height of imperial ignorance that The English wore blue, a colour which appears nowhere on their flag and has no other reason for appearing than its appearance on the British flag – which is, of course, courtesy of us Scots. In a way it’s flattering that they’re so keen to include us but I, for one, really don’t wish to be involved. Getting England to realise it’s not Britain is almost as hard as trying to convince America it’s not the World – but I’m sure we’ll carry on reminding them both. Continue reading
The starvation diet, the back-of-sofa coin-searching and the redemption of those saved-up bus change tickets now begins in earnest; the best Scots band ever Orange Juice release a 7-disc box set in November. Full details are here, but the release does, regrettably, mean that several of my family will be receiving only Christmas cards this year. Continue reading
I was making my way home on Saturday night (quickly, to the strains of ‘Funky Town’ by Pseudo Echo), and, despite fully expecting the streets to be swaying with drunken idiots, and peppered with discarded snack boxes and copious pools of chunky semi-digestion that operate as sole-mines all over Temple Barf, I still found myself being absolutely repulsed by the sight of grown men urinating up against walls. Not even the slightest pretence of hiding behind something (normally something really clever, like a lamppost), but right there in full, streetlit view of everyone. Apart from vomit-dodging, there’s little in life more exhilarating than skipping over a flowing stream of alcoholic piss. I was delighted to see that a party of well-dressed European tourists got to witness for themselves this entertaining display of Jedi-like liquid-sabre wielding. I’d love to know what they’ll write on their postcards home: “Loving Olde Dublin – interesting and quaint pre-Roman sewer network, which criss-crosses the footpath-cum-litter-bins, which is both fun to negotiate and aromatic to inhale, like German wine.” Possibly.
Anyway, the sight of these ambassadors for Dublin tourism reminded me of the product you see above: the ‘Pocketoilet’, which is a ‘glove box necessity’, apparently. It’s only for drivers? They’re taking the piss, aren’t they? Why not for drunks? Continue reading
There’s quite a storm in a crisp poke about the new Hunky Dorys billboard adverts, which feature curvy young women in supposed-rugby gear alongside slogans like “Are you staring at my crisps?”, “Others Haka, we Hunky” and “Tackle these”. For those of a certain vintage and persuasion, I’m sure they’re a comforting throwback to the sexist humour of such comic geniuses as Roy Chubby Brown and Jim Davidson. The ads also say Hunky Dorys are “Proud sponsors of Irish Rubgy”, a claim the Irish Rugby Football Union refute since it only apparently applies to Navan.
As Conor Pope points out in his article in this morning’s Irish Times, shock value is often the best promotion a product can get. Unfortunately, given the ubiquity of “models” in bikinis being photographed promoting all sorts of depressingly pointless products on Grafton Street or St Stephen’s Green over the past decade, it’s hard to believe anyone could actually be shocked by the continuing tackiness of the advertising industry – even if we ARE currently experiencing the (ahem) “Celtic Phoenix” effect.
But, T&A images aside, why are we yet again being exposed to utterly inappropriate foods being used to advertise sport? Continue reading