How to Get Shteamed on €4

(I now realise that the above picture only shows €3.88)

I’ve found myself in uncharted territory recently. I’m broke. When I say broke I don’t mean I’m spending money I shouldn’t be spending, I mean I’m literally living off change, and I use the “L” word correctly in this sentence unlike most of you wrongoloids in this dying whore of a country. Also, I’m aware of the overuse of “I”s in this paragraph. Consider this piece a column and then goose-step back to your rally, you literary Nazis. Your Reich’s on its last legs and you can thank the internet for it. Megalolz.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I was explaining to you fine people how to have the unenviable lifestyle of a borderline alcoholic for less than the price of a cinema ticket. Being poor shouldn’t be an obstacle to getting sauced. Just look at the homeless. Despite being almost completely useless at everything, those bastards always manage to find a way to get wankered off their tits. It’s strangely admirable. 

Let’s be honest here, people my age who are not drinking themselves to death tend to be extremely dull. We’re talking Fr Paul Stone levels of vapidity. If, like me you’re an unemployed,  grant receiving commuter who spends most of your money on public transport or you’re just tighter than a hipster’s coloured jeans (cunts) then follow these easy steps and you’ll be happier than a certain radio station after offloading a certain morning presenter to a certain lesser radio station. I can’t be much more cryptic than that, defamation be damned.

  

     1)  Be Sound:  

They say good things happen to good people. This is true. In fact, you don’t have to be a particularly good person. You can be a cold–hearted, soulless, rape joke-making bastard but as long as you put on a friendly facade people will supply you with alcohol. It’s one of the many perks of being sound. Here’s a free tip to getting more people to like you, don’t wear a scarf in doors. Although if you do this, I fear you may be too far gone already. That’s at least a stage four dickhead.

    2)  Carry A Hip Flask: 

Would you play sports without bringing a bottle of water? Would you go to a Muse concert without a bottle of bleach? You bet your sexy ass you wouldn’t. So why go to a session or even a lecture without a supply of alcohol readily available? It makes sense now, doesn’t it? The beauty is the humble hip flask works well if you follow step one. If someone offers you spirits at least you have a receptacle (Like fiddlesticks, I’m bringing that word back) so you can stall the ball, Pope John Paul and save the inebriation for later.

  

        3) Leave Your Drink Prejudices Behind:

I was once like you, a beer drinker. On a good night I was able to go through 13 bottles of Miller and if there was a playground nearby I’d go to town on it. I mean that in the swings and monkey bars way not the priests and Jimmy Savile way, you sick bastards! However, since then I went through a coeliac scare which meant that bourbon became my drink of choice and you’d be forgiven for thinking that my pockets were actually that of Ivan Yates. You must be saying to yourselves “Jesus, lay off the radio presenters” and you’re right, I am not a prophet, I’m the second coming. That being said, bourbon’s a classy drink and if you’re poor you’ve got to stop fooling yourself and go for the €1 cans of Carling. Even if it means beer shits of epic proportions the following morning.

I hope this was helpful. See y’all in rehab.

How to Intimidate Your Opponent in Tennis

Believe it or not, I was once a promising amateur tennis player but alas, I couldn’t resist the euphonic siren’s song of an alluring Aphrodite by the name of Jack Daniels. My complicated relationship with her quashed any hopes of me causing a stir at any level of tennis, despite my potential. As the old aphorism goes: “tis better to have loved and lost than to have never gotten wankered on bourbon.”

One thing I never had while I was at the top of my game was intimidation. I feel as though this really hindered my chances of reaching my full potential. I don’t want this to happen to you, reader. So I’ve devised a list of ways you could intimidate your opponent so much they’ll be shaking more than Michael J Fox trying to get stem cell research funded.

      1) Rituals – A lot of players on the ATP and that other less popular tour have rituals. Nadal has his water bottle antics, Djokovic bounces the ball before serving like a special Olympian on acid and Sharapova always looks ridiculously hot. Not sure if the last one is a ritual but it had to be said.

However, in order to gain the upper hand over your opponent you’re going to have to think bigger and more obnoxious. You’ve got to channel your inner Apollo Creed. I’m not saying hire James Brown to do your entrance them and walk out onto the court donning star spangled banner shorts and an Uncle Sam hat. Well, maybe I am.

I mean, up until Drago earned the moniker “death from above” by handing Apollo his own derriere, you couldn’t help but be impressed by Apollo’s stage show... and his ability to become a world champion boxer with a defence comparable to Rihanna's.

One thing you could take from the “Master of Disaster” is the novelty of an entrance theme. Think about it. No tennis player has one. You could be a trend setter. Pick a good one though. None of this Bon Iver shite. Pick something intimidating, aggressive, obnoxious and preferably American, I’m thinking Limp Bizkit or Kid Rock.

      2) Grunts – The infamous tennis grunt. The only louder grunts could be heard in a sacristy in the pre-Murphy report era. The grunt is a tool used by many a great to put off their opponent and gain the upper hand in a crucial match. A good grunt can be a game changer. If you ask me though, which clearly nobody is for some odd reason, the grunt could do with some updating.

The classic “ugh” “oh” and “eh” (these are hard to type phonetically) have been done to death. Speaking of death, why don’t you use the grunt to make personal threats to your opponent? Instead of  “EUGH!” try “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” *hit* “I’M GONNA STAB YOU!” *hit* “THEN YOUR KIDS!” *miss*.
40-15

That was a messy looking paragraph. An alternative would be to pretend that you’re getting some sort of sexual thrill from playing tennis and if you think about it, you could work this into your grunt almost seamlessly. “Biiig serve” *hit* “Oh yeah!” *hit* “Harder!” *hit* HARDER!” *hits winner* “Nice ball control.”
30 all.

3) Apparel – Non-marking shoes and, depending on the club, a white shirt are the only two requirements in order to play a game of tennis. During my tenure as the David Bentley of amateur tennis I was known to wear t-shirts with a Hitler smiley face on the front and pink baseball caps while succumbing to a two sets to one loss. Some of those fights were more one-sided than Amy Winehouse versus heroin.

My only regret was not taking more advantage of the apparel rule. In general, there are no restrictions on what leg wear is permitted on the court. If I were to go back playing I’d wear pink denim shorts, no, actually pink jeggings. My calves alone would get me a couple unforced errors. I’d break my opponent’s heart before I’d break their serve. If it’s a whites only club, obviously not in the American History X sense of the word, then make sure you wear a white mankini. There’s nowhere in the rulebook that says you can’t.

So, try to heed my advice and the silverware and, let’s be honest here, restraining orders will come rolling in. If these tactics fail, you could always go more extreme and take a dump in the sand bin while maintaining an intense glare at your opponent.

Gaff Party Faux Pas

Shindigs, box socials, partays, hootenannies, whatever you want to call them, they’re one of the better and more economical methods of getting shteamed if you’re a student. However, even though the humble gaff party may seem to be an event where any sort of behaviour is acceptable in the spirit of debauchery, there is a certain set of rules which should be adhered to for your own enjoyment and that of your fellow ragers. Here’s a list of things to avoid which will ensure that your party is, to quote Nietzsche, "whopper".

   1)      Passing Out: It happens to everyone. Really? It doesn’t?  Well, it happens to me quite a bit. Luckily, because I am a dude, when I passed out at a session in my mid-teens I didn’t leave the next morning as damaged goods.  I hope.

If you don’t go to parties attended by sexual deviants and you pass out, permanent marker tattoos will be drawn, eyebrows will be shaved and ponytails will be snipped. Admittedly, it’s an enjoyable experience for the conscious folk that are involved but trust me, permanent marker penises are extremely hard to wash off parts of the body where the sun does not and should not shine. It took me a week the last time.

   2)      Cameras:  Thanks to the popularity of the Facebook page “Embarrassing Nightclub Photos” everyone seems to see gaff parties as an opportunity to take a few photos that they can later whore out for likes on their beloved social network. I personally don’t want pictures of me, to revive an archaic phrase, "skagged off my tits" plastered all over the internet. Unfortunately, there are dozens of them on spacebook, myface and twanker which have been posted against my will. This could have all been avoided if some arsehole didn’t bring a camera and start snapping like an autistic Ron Galella.

There’s no skill in it. Taking embarrassing photos at a gaff party is as easy as going on a murder spree in Norway. So why bother? Take a photo of me while I’m sauced and I can guarantee you’ll be on my enemies list for way more than 21 years.

   3)      Acoustic Guitars: I like to call a drinking session that ends up as a ballad session the "Cringe Olympics" because there’s always one assclown who wants to play while nobody else wants to listen. I suppose the main problem I have with acoustic guitars, despite the fact that they cause feline leukaemia (don’t see too many cats at an Ed Sheeran concert), is that every arsehole in the country thinks they can play it. To paraphrase the movie Role Models, there’s always one asshat with an acoustic guitar that just can’t seem to play it.

Another problem I have is that it’s the same songs that are always played. “Oh cool, you know Metallica songs? You must be a really good guitarist.” When a session ends with Sikth covers then I’ll stop complaining but for now, you’ll be knocking on heaven’s door sooner than you think if you don’t put the guit-fiddle down.

   4)      Cock Tricks: If this hasn’t happened to you yet, keep your friends. Don’t make any new ones because you’re clearly hanging out with the right people. Does anyone remember the sexual deviants’ reference back in the second paragraph? That was in relation to this. For anyone who doesn’t know what I’m talking about, cock tricks are basically the male genitalia version of origami. These are not for the faint hearted. Everyone knows the classic windmill but other notable moves include the hamburger, the wristwatch and the papal nuncio (don’t ask).

A generally rule of thumb would be not to expose yourself in any social situation, unless of course, it’s just going that way, but some people just can’t keep their talents hidden. That being said, it’s a lot more impressive than some of the stuff you’d see on Britain’s Not Talented.

Stick To The Day Job

An increasingly popular trend among celebrities these days is having the mindset that they’re a master of all trades. I don’t know whether it’s arrogance, ignorance or greed that’s got these musicians trying their hands at acting (or vice versa) but it has to stop.

Let me put it this way, if you were having an appendectomy and the surgeon admits that his main profession is hairdressing but he’s recently branched out into the medical world, you would be royally pissed off... and probably dead. The moral of the story is Justin Timberlake’s ego can kill and I’m pretty sure it already has, and will again. This madman must be stopped!

Here’s a list of some of the worst offenders, the folk think that changing art forms is as easy as getting Nicolas Cage to be in your movie.

    1-      Steven Seagal – Here’s a lad who has his fingers in all the pies, but enough of the fat jokes. It’s a little known fact that actor, producer, reality TV star and aikido master Steven Seagal also fancies himself as a bit of a musician.

Admittedly, the prospect of hearing Mason Storm shred on guitar initially sparked my interest but the actual experience is as disappointing as one the actor’s latest straight to DVD efforts. Come on Seagal, what we really want is you to shed some pounds, go back to being Casey Ryback and release an Under Siege 3 which given the evolution of the series, will either be set on a space mission or a time machine.

Fuck it, one more fat joke. No one beats you in the kitchen Casey? Are you sure you didn’t mean the dining room?

        2-      Justin Timberlake – I’m not his biggest fan but in fairness, the whiney pop singer took his opportunity and made a killing convincing teenage girls that whitey’s could indeed dance. A feat that had previously only been achieved by famous child molester, Michael Jackson.

You’d think this would be enough for old JT. He gave our ears a raping on the radio and now he’s doing the same to our eyes. Simply put, he can’t act. If anyone disagrees with me, I dare you to try and watch all of In Time which is a million times worse than any Seagal film. It’s an hour and a half of time puns. What makes it even more demoralising is that it stars Ireland’s only cheekbone model, Cillian Murphy, whose career has been taking a turn for the worst since Tron: Legacy. 

I hope you are “in time” Justin. I hope you walk down the wrong alley Justin time (see what I did there) to meet Larry Murphy on a day he’s feeling a bit more adventurous. Now there’s a man who could do with branching out. He could be better utilised murdering and raping big ego-d fuckers like Justin.

    3-      Jared Leto – Does this really need explaining? He’s not even a good actor. He just got lucky with the roles he’s been given. I think Requiem For A Dream is one of the most overrated movies of all time but that’s only because I didn’t feel sorry for Leto when he (SPOILER ALERT) got his arm amputated. I thought to myself, good, if anyone deserves losing a limb it’s this guy.

Let the record show, I hated him before he sold out and rode the emo train to give himself enough money to buy a lifetime supply of guyliner and fingerless gloves. What a douche! The genre will go down as one of the worst trends in the history of music and Leto was a part of it. My goal in life is to become a successful director, remake Fight Club and get Ed Norton to actually beat him unconscious. “Don’t stop if goes limp!” is what I’ll shout.

How To Enjoy A Concert Without Stabbing People

Surprise, surprise! The string of knackery gigs in the Phoenix Park that replaced Oxygen this year has been awash with drugs, ridin' and knife crime. Ok,  I'll admit it, I didn't expect knife crime to be an issue but I'm not in any way surprised. If you ask me, which clearly nobody is for some odd reason, anyone who listens to Swedish House Mafia deserves to be stabbed.

I don't know what my readership is like. Some of you may consider the three activities mentioned above essential for a successful outing. However, if you're out knifing people at gigs to fill a big fun-shaped void, try this advice on for size and you might find yourself leaving the auld box cutter at home the next time you're heading off to Deadmau5 with the lads.

1) Go to a real concert - Remember when people liked bands that played instruments and wrote their own songs? Well those bands still exist and not all of them are as shit as The Killers or Coldplay. Admittedly music isn't as good as it used to be. Rap has no flow and pop has no melody (I'm talking to you Aguilera. You're offensive to all five senses). That doesn't mean you have to attend Drake concerts. I wouldn't wish that horrible fate upon anybody. Find a good band, preferably one that doesn't have a laptop player... eh I mean synth player, and attend their gigs.

2) Start a mosh pit -

If you're an aggressive individual I'd highly recommend this as an alternative to stabbin' fuckers. Do you ever notice that fans only die in pits at the wimpiest gigs? Smashing Pumpkins are a prime example of this. You'll find that for heavier bands, if you fall down in the pit someone will pick you up. Maybe starting a mosh at a Swedish House Mafia gig where half the audience are yipped off their heads isn't such a great idea but just accept it as an alternative to pulling a knife on people.

3) Heckle - If you're at a good concert heckle the roadies. This is incredibly enjoyable, especially since bands have gotten into the habit of taking longer to come out than Derek Mooney (burn!).Get chants going such as "1... 2! 1.....2!" or "Roadie! Roadie! Roadie!". The latter doesn't have quite the same effect when the vocalist for a band is called Rody as is the case for a certain awesome band.

However, if you find yourself at a concert where a shite band is playing, heckle the band itself. It is hilarious. When promoters put a band like Avenged Sevenfold on the same bill as Metallica, Alice In Chains and Mastodon, they're asking for trouble. When the singer, if you can call that hideous abomination that, calls for the crowd to shout "Hey! Hey!" a slight change made by a couple of hundred people in the front row can cause hilarity. It may be slightly homophobic but it's also quite enjoyable.

I'm also proud of getting Fox Avenue to finish their set early by getting a group of people to chant "Off!" during their set. In my defence, I interviewed the singer before the gig and he was a prick. Their music also gargles balls.

4) If all else fails, get pissed -

I'm fully aware that there was a fair bit of alcohol consumption at the recent string of gigs. I was in town at the time and I saw a young man try to start a fight with a taxi. No, not a taxi driver, an actual taxi in traffic. If you're the type of drinker who can handle themselves while shteamed and you find yourself at an atrocious gig, by all means go for it. Sure George Hook may tut tut at your antics but let's be honest here, getting hammered is as much a part of our culture as the GAA and it's more a part of our culture than the atrocity known as Gaeilge.

Move Bitch, Get Out The Way

You're in a busy city.  Let's just say it's Dublin (the rest of the Irish ones are shite, well Limerick's alright) and you're late for something. You could be late for a "Snow Blow" pick up, an appointment with an escort, a white supremacists group meeting or the Fine Gael Ard Fheis. It doesn't really matter what evil or morally wrong activity you're up to, the point is you're late and you need to get there fast. So imagine your disheartenment at the city streets being flooded with assclown pedestrians who have an utter disregard for their fellow pedestrians. These ignorant mongos can be split into four different groups which I have outlined below. So when you're out an about, avoid these slack-jawed, knuckle-dragging mouth breathers at all cost.

1) People With Buggies -If there's anything worse than talking to a new parent it's having to share a foothpath with them. A buggy is more of a battering ram than a toddler's mode of transport. Not only will parents use this hideous abomination (I mean the buggy, not the baby. Jeez!) to snap at your heels, cut you off and plough into other pedestrians, they also use them as makeshift stop signs when crossing the street. "They can't run me over. I have a baby." You can't really argue with that logic.

2) Tourists -Yes, I know it's great that they're pumping money into the economy and we overcharge them yet they naively keep coming back for more but sweet non-existent baby Jesus, they're awful pedestrians. "Let's stop here and take a picture of this Spar. Oh look! A generic looking pub" *Snap* *Snap* "Wow! A heroin addict! Get the camera out."

3) The Wanderers - You know the type, they don't know quite where they're going but in the meantime they're going to be a complete pain in your hoop. Most of them are culchies, who are only "up to the big shmoke for the day to get a few thrinkets for the family. Meccano for the kids and a fine frock for the auld lady." More importantly, they're tards about finding out where to go so they keep to a snail's pace, usually in your way.

4) Chuggers - Ok, technically they're not pedestrians but this shower of cunts deserve an honourable mention. It's not a real job. Honestly, anyone could do it. A dickless chimp could do it. I will have more respect for you if you sign on rather than be a chugger. The abuse they receive is warranted. "Sorry, I'm late for something bro... wait! Fuck off and get a real job!"

Heed my advice people. That being said, don't go out pushing over prams, fighting tourists or hurling abuse at chuggers. Unless you want to, I suppose.

The Summer Olympics: We've Made A Few ... Changes

Every four years we lose valuable column inches  and air time to the underwhelming events that comprise the summer Olympics. We're going to get an even heftier sensory raping this time around because our neighbours to the east are hosting it. Oh happy day!

If it's not obvious to you already I have a few problems with the Olympics. First of all, it receives an obscene amount of media coverage. It's not verging on the ridiculous, it is the epitome of ridiculousness. It seems like Sky Sports News have had a "Countdown to London 2012" timer since before it was even announced that they'd be hosting it. "Only 756 days left until London 2012 and there is an air of 'who gives a shit' around the city." For anyone who disagrees with me and thinks the Olympics receives an appropriate level of media coverage, Google "Fast Girls".

For the most part, the actual events are as boring as a Coldplay CD. Sure it's fun watching Usain Bolt smash the world record in the 100 metres but that race only lasts about ten seconds, max. Oddly enough, it's getting shorter every games. In the meantime we have to put up with all the dull heats and semi finals, and this is for a sport that is actually exciting.

However, there are other sports in the games. Watching such sports will leave you as bored as Fritzl's daughter. There is no need to have any coverage of events such as archery, gymnastics, fencing, sailing, equestrian, badminton, cycling and hockey. Nobody gives a flying fuck about these events unless their country has a chance of winning a medal. There is something seriously wrong with something that makes football and guns boring. Come on Olympics, that shit's easy.

It could really do with taking a leaf out of the Grand National. Imagine how much more exciting it would be if two athletes died during each event. Someone told me that this was the plot of The Hunger Games which apparently, isn't a sort of Olympics for bulimics.

Kid's nowadays have the attention span of Jedward on speed. They're chatting with they're other halves on Bebo, checking the latest  cinema listings on their teletext apps for their Gameboys and listening to the latest PJ and Duncan single on their Walkmen. They no longer find these tired old sports exciting. We need to get with the times. We have the obligation to make the Olympics more sexy and I'm not referring to the sexualisation of female athletes because if we were being totally honest here, they're sixes, at best.

I propose that we create new, exciting events to get the youth interested in the Olympics again. I've outlined some ideas below. By the way for all these events the starter pistol will be replaced with a Kalashnikov firing actual bullets, at fans. If there's one thing the Brits did right it was livening up a Gaelic Football match.

1) Mario Karting - Let's bring this video game beloved by all to life. Obviously bananas will be banned. Imagine flinging bananas out of your kart at other drivers. We wouldn't want to give the impression that it's a sport participated by a bunch of John Terrys. There will still be all the fun stuff though. You'll get to hurl turtles at your opponents, take magic mushrooms and apes, monkeys and even dragons will be allowed to participate. Now that's equality.

2) Alcoholic Boxing - You've heard of punch drunk but how about drunk punch drunk? This sport will encapsulate what us Irish are all about, drinkin' and fightin'. Even James Joyce jumped a few lads in nightclubs while he was shteamed. Who knows, we may even win a gold medal out of it. The rules are simple enough. You kneck spirits in between rounds and the alcohol percentage increases after each round. So you start off on a weak whisky and by round 5 or 6, you're on Raki or Absinthe. The beauty of this sport is you can reuse a lot of the equipment. For example the spit buckets become vomit buckets and the corner men can supply the boxers with kebabs instead of smelling salts. Scoring will be based on punches connected and dignity maintained.

3) The Charlie Sheen Obstacle Course - It's a 80 metre dash (100 metres has been done to death) with a difference. After the starter Kalashnikov kills seven people in Row D, each athlete must snort a line of coke from the cleavage of a prostitute, suck MDMA out of her navel and proceed to have coital relations with her until completion before commencing the sprint... or stagger. The athlete puts on a beer hat (the beer is replaced with Tiger blood) and runs down the track avoiding Emilio Estevez and Martin Sheen holding admittance forms for the Betty Ford Clinic. The first athlete to cross the finish line and hit a button which plays an unnecessary 'Two And A Half Men' style laugh track wins.

Wouldn't these events be a vast improvement on dressage? That question isn't rhetorical. The answer is a definite and resounding "fuckin' a".