Politics, drugs and rock and roll

With the election fast approaching, Fianna Fail has helpfully set out its drugs policy in the form of popular song. Fresh from criticising the Green Party for suggesting a softening of government policy on "softer drugs", Fianna Fail reveal that, actually, they're "hot" and that its ok to deal in "gear" or heroin, but ONLY if the recipient gets to "dance with the dealer's sister" straight after. Its bizarre, and if enough dealers sisters are wretched mongfests in pink shellsuits then, it might just work in reducing Ireland's drug problem. Kudos to the Soldiers of Destiny for a novel idea.

For a clearer look at whats going on, see

http://www.irishelection.com/03/fianna-fail-in-drugs-controversy/

Wait until light turns green

Apparently the Labour Party have floated (Patrick's Day pun anybody?) the idea of citizenship ceremonies, and that old chestnut, the citizenship test. Ridiculous, of course. What form would such a ceremony take? Fifteen hundred Polish lads crammed into Coppers, all ready to throw their shackles of East European oppression into the air like mortar boards upon announcement that, hurrah, they're actually Irish now! (Does this mean they can play on our cricket team?). And as for our citizenship test? Well how quickly can yee drink a bottle of Buckfast lads? Sample questions, no doubt, would include: Is it a) acceptable, or b) unacceptable for teenage girls to pop 'round their local shops in their pyjamas? And if Ireland were to qualify past the group stages of any sporting event, how is it most appropriate to celebrate: a) silly green hat, b) get roaring drunk, c) climb the nearest set of traffic lights or d) all of the above? Come to think of it, most of these "new Irish" are, like the Normans, more Irish than us Irish ourselves...

In-fighting in the England camp. Pedalo out of shot.

It's not the first time that Middlesbrough winger Stewart Downing has failed to make a clean connection...

Why?

We can still see it you know! And whilst I'm at it, why is it that there seems to be a proliferation of people out there who, one day, after dinner, slap both thighs, stand up, sigh with intent, and think to themselves, "I think I'll go outside and stick two eyes, a mouth, and a comedy nose on our wheelie bin". Consider it a pet peeve of mine.

Huzzah!

The GAA must be delighted. Soccer comes to Jones' Road at the end of the week, finally testing the resolve of the conservatives after the genteel rugby set suggested the GAA really had nothing to worry about after all. And if that wasn't enough, the Irish sports story of the week surrounds our cricketers. Says that bastion of accurate information, Wikipedia, of cricket: "It originated in its modern form in England and is popular mainly in the present and former members of the Commonwealth". And all of this on St. Patrick's weekend. It's the new craze sweeping the nation, so grab a crotch cup and join in. And if your'e actually born in Ireland, don't worry, you still qualify to play on the team. Captain Trent Johnston, from a place just south of Wexford known as New South Wales, said "I'm over the moon. To be competitive and beat Pakistan, who have won a World Cup and have been on top of cricket for so many years, it's amazing". And as Johnston removed his hat with corks hanging from the brim, looking over each shoulder before replacing it with a giant green leprachaun hat and false ginger beard, he continued "Growing up I was inspired to follow my dream by the legendary Steve Irwin, I mean Denis Irwin". The jubilant team and fans retired to the pavillion where they quaffed cucumber sandwiches and bovril, and the players kept it real for the weekend that was in it, and prepared a traditional meal of shrimps on the barbie and tins of Fosters. Bonza.

Says Louis Copeland: "I think Michael Flatley is unique and he has a great sense of style. In fact, he's a style icon for men - no matter what he's wearing he always looks polished".

Yes, with Mr. Sheen....

The kids are alright

Serotonin works in a fancy pants office with a widescreen TV. In the reception area. On mute. So its not a constant source of education and enlightenment during the day. But passing it by upon returning from a comfort break, I couldnt fail to notice the shocking news as to what those scoundrels at Blue Peter have been up to. Ok, so for the reasons outlined above, I kind of did miss it. But God didn't invent the news ticker for people like me to wallow in ignorance. From what I gather, Blue Peter shafted innocent kids out of money via some phone-in scam. They compounded this by having Richard Bacon on telling city kids how to score good gear, installed a Damien Hirst installation into the Blue Peter Garden of a naked elderly man lying on his back urinating (in formaldehyde), and admitted that their Blue Peter badges were made primarily from sharp objects and asbestos. Whilst Serotonin stands by his claim that he misses Countdown since "The Man" came calling, he can't help but feel that, widescreen TV or no widescreen TV, he aint missing much else.

From the Guardian: Aston Villa manager Martin O'Neill will delay any discussions with Chris Sutton on his future until the end of the season as the striker struggles to recover from blurred vision. "Chris will see a specialist again in a couple of weeks and we will be better positioned to find out what is happening," said O'Neill. Doesn't he mean a couple of specialists??

How long did it take YOU to figure out if Hugh Lane was a dude or an address??

As long as it took Serotonin to figure out that a Catholic Primate isn't a monkey saying Mass??

And whilst I'm at it, which of the two Chinese lads who work in Helen's Corner on Macken Street is Helen??

Seriously, does no-one else see it??

Marcus Sweeney

Max Headroom

Call it a draw

I can only reflect on a less than successful week with a sigh of disappointment. Pesky illness curtailed my trailblazing new career (no, really), and whilst Celtic crashed valiantly out of the Champions League, at least Manchester United soldiered on. Yes, Serotonin is one of those many Irish football fans that has affection for these two disparate (not desparate) British clubs, an allegiance so curious on many levels, never chrystalised as succinctly as when the two sides met each other in the competition's group stage earlier this season. A passion for either side nullified as they squared up to each other on the pitch. One home win apiece? Well that's a face saving scenario... To live your life without contradiction is nigh on impossible. Even the hardest socialists I knew in my student days wore Nike and drank Coke.

They had me at "latex and handcuffs"

As reported by the fine publication that is Galway First: 'A man who was found dressed in latex and handcuffs brought a donkey to his room in a Galway city centre hotel, because he was advised "to get out and meet people," the local court heard last week. 'Thomas Aloysius McCarney with an address in south Galway was charged with cruelty to animals, lewd and obscene behaviour, and with being a danger to himself when he appeared before the court on Friday. He was also charged with damage to a mini-bar in the room, but this charge was later dropped when the defendant said that it was the donkey who caused that damage. Solicitor for the accused Ms Sharon Fitzhenry said that her client had been through a difficult time lately and that his wife had left him and that his life had become increasingly lonely. "Mr McCarney has been attending counselling at which he was told that he would be advised to get out and meet people and do interesting things. It was this advice that saw him book into the city centre hotel with a donkey," she said. She added that Mr McCarney also suffered from a fixation with the Shrek movies and could constantly be heard at work talking to himself saying things like, "Isn't that right, Donkey?"

But now it turns out it was all a
misunderstanding

Serotonin hasn't been this disappointed since Rudebox.

Please have exact change ready

Still laid low with the remnants of flu and so another enforced absence from the workplace, Serotonin can't help thinking that the weekly bus ticket was quite the waste of money. For the record I'm a committed public transport user (huge carbon feet; tiny carbon footprint). And as well as Countdown back on the menu for today at least, its amazing where boredom and an Enviro 500 Tri Axle will take you.

www.irishbuses.com

New force in NI politics

Whilst the North's politicians await the formation of a new Assembly, they could do worse than consult this man for advice....

Just Because...

Jane's Addiction guitar hero Dave Navarro sparks a comical game of kiss chasing. Things sure were different in Serotonin's day...

Perry Farrell was unavailable for comment.

Is it "Rip... Off??"

Serotonin recently found himself employment. Which may explain the third person self referencing.... But one sure fire side effect is no more Countdown... and these early mornings preclude me from watching those late night valiant talking heads who find themselves washed up on the beach of televisual entertainment.. yes, I'm talking about ITV play. But what's that? Off air due to premium phone line irregularities? The formula of non threatening men in stripy shirts from Marks and Spencers and crotch hugging pants, and women with come hither looks in their eyes who were clearly coached in the art of biting their lips was an achingly, agonisingly cringeworthy, yet by all accounts profitable exercise. Enough gullible buffoons were punching away on redial, trying to "jump on board that money train", not realising that the train was making a stop at their bank account nightly. And those kind folk at ITV imposed a daily limit of an entirely reasonable 150 calls. Serotonin says bring this back at once!

Royal Wannabe twat launches his own watered down plonk. Faint sound of landmine campaigner turning in grave.

"I poured vintage wines into crystal glasses, served delicious foods from silver platters onto fine bone china, and decorated rooms and tables with beautiful flowers" he says.

"I was devestated and jobless when Diana died, but it inspired me to find my literary streak and pen and peddle such weighty tomes as "The Way We Were", "A Royal Duty", "In The Royal Manner: Expert Advice On Etiqutte and Entertaining...", "Entertaining With Style", and "Flogging A Dead Princess" he might have added.

Next Stop: Rehab; An stop ina dhiaidh sin; cóireáil liachta

Not to beat the Labour party with a stick, but a good friend of Serotonin's is going through the mill after being snared by the fuzz in possession of an open can of beer on the street following a party one night. Said friend might expect to exchange pleasantries with the Rabbitte Man in the dock, no?

In fairness, some politicians need a scoop when it comes to mixing with the proletariat. Have YOU tried getting the Luas sober??

You can glug all you like lads, but as Rabbitte Man himself might say.... "But, are you happy?"

"I might get a nice tie in H&M"

Recuperation does give Serotonin the chance to peruse some of that election literature that has been clogging up the letterbox. Well ok, one arrived today. Alex White of the Labour Party. And despite Bertie's claims, one still tends to assume the default assumption that the Labour Party represent a faint impersonation of Socialist representation, for all that it's worth in 21st Century Ireland. Sure doesn't Alex's printed blurb (not quite on recycled paper, but printed on a chlorine free paper made from trees grown in managed protected forests no less), inform us that "Economic growth should never be an end in itself, but rather a means to an end". And the accompanying picture? Himself, Pat Rabbitte, and collegue councillor Aidan Culhane climbing the economic escalator in..... that Capitalist shrine and end-in-itself Dundrum Town Centre.

Week one: Health and safety

Influenza has me laid low, which is perhaps not surprising at this time of year. The fact is I'm purely experiencing the aftershocks at the moment, the nasty little virus itself rattled my foundations properly somewhere between 24 and 48 hours ago. But you see, being in a new job means you're a hero. Dedicated. Hard worker. Albeit one with a stack of heavy duty tissue paper from the toilets on his desk, and one whose first impression on his new workmates is one of lingering orthomyxoviridae (I looked it up). And so this hero retreated sheepishly to his bed, after one of the least productive and highly contagious first weeks ever.