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Blog: Sunday Drivers, Boxers, and Shouters
I didn’t get stuck behind a tractor this weekend. No. However, I did encounter something which one can only conclude was born from an illicit affair between and Fiat Punto and a Cinquecento. Hideous and astonishing in equal measure, it glided along like Snail that had been just told its shares in Gerarld McCarthy’s Management Consultancy firm had gone belly up.
Forum Launched! Feed It!
Well folks, it took us four weeks, but we’ve got the forum ready to go. The only thing we need now is YOU! Register, post, post, post and keep on posting!
Click here for more information.
Blog: Need A Hurler Nifty? Text 11850.
It all started one evening, when bored out of me head and pondering the philosophical questions we all face, I decided to test this number to see if it could shed some light on life and it’s deeper meanings.
So I texted 11850 and asked them the ultimate question: “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
Blog: The Last Downturn On The Left
So while there was 10,000 marching on the streets last week, no doubt there were another 10,000 at home. Frustrated and angry that it is still ongoing. It’s sad that it has come to this and has reached this level, but hey, what are you going to do? They can polish their All-Ireland Medals while they are waiting to play again. Life will move on.
Blog: Le Oval Ball, Pre-Madonnas & Pineapples
Now that the Six Nations is back, our nation has been gripped by a familiar fever. Sales in Rugby Jerseys go up. Carlsberg Shandy receipts got through the roof in Croker and an enormous amount of Rugby fans appear out of nowhere in an annual ritual only comparable to Dublin’s first game in the Championship.
Blog: Leaves, Biffo, a Whopping Big Thank You
I’m a little worried about the train. You know, that delicate, 50 tonne beast of a machine, that can’t go left or right, and runs along train tracks that have been rumoured to be made from the same material as the popular 80’s toy Buckaroo.
Micko alters the Wicklow way
TWO years ago, Mick O’Dwyer arrived in Wicklow to a reception almost religious in its fervour. It was reported that 121 players flocked to the first trial and that footballers were tripping over themselves to be immersed in the new faith — converts who had once rejected invitations to play for the county, sullenly posing the question: what’s in it for me?