Posts Tagged humour
His granddaddy’s daddy came from Moneygall
Could Ireland have stumbled accross the new internet No.1? The song “Irish O’Bama” by Hardy Drew and the Nancy Boys is a good-humoured irish pub song. It originated from a speech when Barack Obama said he was looking forward to having a pint in Monegall, where his ancestors are from. Listen to the song here and buy it here!
O’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
You don’t believe me, I hear you say
But Barack’s as Irish, as was JFK
His granddaddy’s daddy came from Moneygall
A small Irish village, well known to you allToor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’BamaHe’s as Irish as bacon and cabbage and stew
He’s Hawaiian he’s Kenyan American too
He’s in the white house, He took his chance
Now let’s see Barack do RiverdanceToor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’BamaFrom Kerry and cork to old Donegal
Let’s hear it for Barack from old moneygall
From the lakes if Killarney to old Connemara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’BamaO’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
From the old blarney stone to the great hill of Tara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama2008 the white house is green, their cheering in Mayo and in Skibereen.
The Irish in Kenya, and in Yokahama,
Are cheering for President Barack O’BamaO’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’BamaThe Hockey Moms gone, and so is McCain
They are cheering in Texas and in Borrisokane,In Moneygall town, the greatest of drama, for our Famous president Barack o Bama
Toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’BamaThe great Stephen Neill, a great man of God,
He proved that Barack was from the Auld Sod
They came by bus and they came by car, to celebrate Barack in Ollie Hayes’s BarO’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
1 comment November 9, 2008
Does the ambassador really like Ferrero Rocher?
I have a knack of never meeting the ambassador, only ever his close family. In July I had dinner with Ezekiel McCleary from Bleary. Zeke is the 1st cousin of Boyd McCleary, the British High Commissioner to Malaysia. And now it appears that I have just spent 48 hours of my life in the company of Charles De Cerjat, son of the Swiss Ambassador to Poland.
We shared a bunk; ate traditional Hungarian fare in an underground canteen; had to share a carriage with copious amounts of cannabis smoke and an “overly happy” Hungarian (you can figure it out I’m sure); slept on each other’s shoulders (only until we realised); helped an elderly Serbian couple enter a train whilst it was moving (the Serbian couple had run to the side of the train from the tracks and needed to be actually hauled up to safety); watched each others backs and learned from each others life experiences. Yes, for 2 whole days Charles de Cerjat - who is traveling the world on a Swiss diplomatic passport - was my mate. My only regret was not asking him if the ambassador really does like Ferrero Rocher!?
Add comment September 26, 2008
What makes a celebrity?
It’s been three days since I vowed to make friends with a celebrity. (See #9 in post below). Although I have seven months to make this minor miracle happen it is proving very difficult to get started. Questions crowd in on me concerning the best plan of action; a possible shortlist; geographical location; gender and so on. But my biggest quandary is trying to define a ‘celebrity’.
Having consulted a few trusted people in my life we have decided that a celebrity is someone who, if invited to ones wedding or birthday party, would be recognised by most people. But doesn’t this vary depending on ones friendship circle?
More than all the rest, this challenge causes me the most angst. Unless I have a finely honed strategy; I could be arrested, locked up in an asylum, shot by an undercover body-guard, run-over by a motorcade, punched, followed and threatened, beaten to a pulp… the list is endless when you think about it!
Therefore I have decided that a minor celebrity from the emerald isle may be the most achievable and certainly more possible than an international movie star or rap artist. Suggestions so far have included William Crawley, Shane Lynch, Ian Paisley, Gerry Anderson, Hugo Duncan, Christine Bleakley, Fanta Clarke, Eamon Holmes and the current Presbyterian Moderator. So I now shamelessly make my appeal to any A, B or C list, Irish/British celebrity, who by chance reads this blog, to get in touch with me… thanks.
All other suggestions gratefully received.
3 comments August 26, 2008
Things I should do before I’m 30 (in no particular order!)
At the time of writing this post I am a single male aged twenty-nine years and six months. I have no regular job although my future seems to be taken care off so I’m not worried. I’m assured.
However, I can’t help but feel like there’s something terribly grown-up about being thirty something. When the twenties have passed we no longer have the right/freedom/excuse to be irresponsible, fool-hardy and adventurous. Therefore the time has come for me to write down some achievable ‘tasks’ which may enhance my life experiences over the next six months. This list of ‘things to do before I’m 30′ helps to legitimise some of my hankerings and challenge my comfort zones.
Thank you to my friends for your helpful comments and suggestions. I have decided to omit: shooting something; sleeping rough; speed-dating; parachute jumping; buying a PHD and getting married. These suggestions were - after much contemplation - either too expensive, too desperate or too uncomfortable. But thanks anyway!
Hopefully this ”to do” list will generate enough material to keep my blog alive for a bit longer!
- Do some overseas travel by myself
- Go to a ballet
- Learn a second language (excluding biblical Greek and Hebrew)
- Grow vegetables
- Ride a motorbike
- Play guitar in church
- Own a pet
- Test drive an expensive car that I have no intention of buying
- Make friends with a celebrity
- Climb a mountain
- Take up a sport
- Start a society
- Become a volunteer in an organisation
- Apply for a T.V. show
- Cook dinner for a stranger
- Sell something on ebay
- Organise a street party
- Go busking for an afternoon
- Send flowers to a girl who’s not related to me
- Go on a road-trip in Ireland and camp somewhere which isn’t a campsite and cook breakfast in the morning on a trangia stove
- Broaden my friendship circle to better represent the cultural and religious differences in society
- Lead someone to Jesus
- Go to a music festival
- Eat at a Michelin starred restaurant
- Read “Cloud Atlas” (I chose this at random from a list)
- Record my family history
- Watch the “Star Wars Trilogy”
- Get something published
- Visit London
- Sing Karaoke
5 comments August 22, 2008
A pigeon, some wasps and a cup of coffee…please!
What do you get if you cross a black and white pigeon with two wasps and a mega-large americano? A cosmopolitan coffee experience in Portadown!
Whilst my trusty Rover 25 was getting a nice new pair of brakes I decided to do coffee and sermon prep in a pleasant non-threatening environment. After a 5 minute dander with my laptop strapped to my back I decided on the new “O’Brien’s”, just beside the church. After avoiding the unfortunately placed dog poo at the front door I wandered inside and over to the counter. I ordered a large americano and fumbled in my pocket for a couple of pound coins. Something moved, behind the big red sofa to my right. I glanced at the girl behind the counter and she shot me a nervous, slightly flustered, glance back. Eventually a black and white pigeon tottered out from behind the sofa. “Do you know there’s a pigeon in here” I said helpfully. “Yeah” she said with a sigh “we’ve been trying to get him out all morning”. I took my coffee to the other side of the cafe and opened my laptop. Apparently it takes 2 O’brien’s workers, half a loaf of bread and 25 minutes to tease a pigeon out of a coffee shop. It only takes one ministry student and a second-hand newspaper to kill two wasps.
1 comment August 9, 2008
Rubbish-Dump Spuds
this is a potato
Tuesday is the first day of my working week and what a day it’s been. I went to bed yesterday evening (Monday) feeling very pleased with myself for laying a 5ft path in my back garden, and I vowed to “kill dead things” when I woke up today (Tuesday). I woke up late and subsequently very peed off. Sporting my new pyjamas I crawled to the kitchen in agony feeling like i’d done ten rounds with Mike Tyson and looking like a geriatric.
No milk. Black coffee. Bah!
Showered, shaved and feeling much better I shuffled to the study and discovered that I had lots of incredibly important face-booking, blog-reading and e-mailing to do. 2 hours later and my afternoon entertainment had arrived at the door. I greeted them, we drank coffee and went book shopping. Now it’s 4:30pm.
Heading home I console myself that there’s a good 2 hours before heading out for my dinner invitation. One mile from the house I randomly bump into my mother and her mate who have been out shopping for wedding outfits. “Who’s wedding?” i ask. “Oh no-one in particular, its just good to be prepared for every eventuality”. If they’re holding out for my wedding they’d better have supplies!
6:30pm and my Mother and her friend head off home and I head for my dinner. Its a lovely, good, wholesome dinner which contained three of my ‘five-a-day’ portions. We ate potatoes that had been grown in the garden. I - all of a sudden - became terribly and genuinely interested in the art of growing potatoes. I asked my hosts lots of questions and they patiently told me that I could grow my own potatoes in a half barrel of soil and mud if i wanted to. If I plant in February I can harvest in June and I’d get dozens of potatoes for my efforts. “You can’t go wrong” he said “After the harvest thanksgiving last year we threw some leftover potatoes into the rubbish dump at the church graveyard. We had a great crop of potatoes in June, and without even trying” he told me proudly. “Did you eat them?” I asked. “Oh no, sure they grew in a rubbish dump in a graveyard, why would we eat them?!” I blushed.
I’m going to get a half barrel of mud and muck and chuck in a few spuds in February. I’ll be a farmer by June!
It’s 10:30pm… I really ought to do some work!
4 comments July 22, 2008
Snow to Eskimos?
Sunny Saturday at an Irish car boot sale - What a Job!
(And they look so smug!)
Add comment June 13, 2008
