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I hated The Office – I just didn’t get it, but I loved Extras. In stand-up Ricky Gervais is excellent and this clip from the Emmy’s Emmys yesterday is comedy gold. Maybe I’ll give The Office another go…

This year has flown by so fast for me. It’s been non-stop. Whether it be busy in work, or having a constant social life, time has ran away from me. So much so that I have to force myself to stop, look around and appreciate what the hell is going on.

I was reminded at last night’s show in the Olympia how fast time truly has been running. The Dubliners were at Ronnie Drew‘s months mind mass yesterday. One month has already passed since the death of the great man. I can’t believe it. It’s gone so fast.

So, I was glad to be reminded by John Sheahan last night – reminded to take a breath, be grateful for the life I have and enjoy every minute of it.

John Sheahan, long time friend of Drew’s and fellow Dubliners band member, recited a poem for Ronnie:

Ronnie’s Heaven

What’s it like, Ronnie, your new life?

Is it the way the old masters painted it;

Floating on the damp clouds,

In the company of winged creatures,

Listening to non-stop harp music?

I could paint you in,

But not your expectations,

“Would somebody, for Christ’s sake, get me down from here,

And show me the fountain of Champagne,

I thought this was meant to be a celebration.”

I’ll paint a different picture instead,

I see your spirit freed at last from earthly shackles,

Soaring to a new consciousness,

Communicating with Kavanagh without the incumbrance of words

Without the embarassment of being barred from four Baggot Street pubs

All clear now,

Ulysses simpler than The Lord’s Prayer,

Beckett no longer waiting for Godot

And Joe O’Broin sidling over with an impish grin

“Howya Ronnie, you brought me fame at last,

I hear Cliodhna and Phelim picked me poem for the end of your mass.

But you needn’t have hurried,

There’s no closing time up here

Just one continuous holy hour.”

Now Deirdre comes into focus,

Bridging a painful gap of fourteen months,

Unhindered by bodies, your spirits embrace,

And entwine in a never ending spiral of joy,

Leaving behind the three great imponderables that tortured you:

What is life?

What is art?

And where the fuck is Barney?

© John Sheahan

Last night was a special event and I am lucky to have been in attendance. John Brogan, stage manager of the Olympia Theatre for over 30 years, celebrated his retirement with an amazing night of music.

Over the years, whether loved or hated by the thousands of acts he told “don’t put that there”, it’s clear that he left an indelible impression on everyone he met, helping bring their performances to life on stage. Many of those performers were delighted to return to the stage last night in his honour.

I‘ll admit to being somewhat concerned when the larger than life drag queen, Panti, catwalked onto the stage to MC the proceedings, but I needn’t have worried. Her cynical charm and no bullshit commentary provided the balance the otherwise congratulatory evening required. Flirting with a collection of non responsive performers, she was very much in control of the night.

The first act brought on was the Coronas, an unusual but very welcome set. Unusual because they have not had a full performance at the Olympia yet and welcome because I’m a fan and my appetite is now whetted for their night in Greystones Theatre on October 5th. I found myself wondering if they set the tone for the night. I doubted it – and what came next proved it.

Perhaps the only thing more camp than Panti came on next – Twink. Thankfully, she didn’t sing. However, mad as the woman may be, she does give good theatre and her very heartfelt and genuine reminiscence of John Brogan was a note perfectly struck. Funny and warm, she was the ideal person to introduce the man of the hour, John Brogan, to a standing ovation.

Unfortunately, John was not given the opportunity to regale us with ancient anecdotes, as he was interrupted by a turkey. No, Pat Kenny did not show up, Dustin did. Slight but fun banter swiftly gave way for the return of Panti to introduce one of the beauties of the evening.

Francis Black has an Irish angel’s voice and she used it to its fullest performing two of her classics, Christy Hennessy’s All the Lies That You Told Me and the heartbreaking Wall of Tears. Perhaps it did bring a mushy element to the proceedings, but I loved it. Truly beautiful.

Next we saw Brian Kennedy, AKA Mr. Cringe, so much so that I welcomed the distraction of the loud skangers behind me being kicked out of the theatre. He performed You Raise Me Up that brought tears to a lot fo people’s eyes. I was in tears because he seemed to go on forever. He pranced round the stage worse than Daniel O’Donnell. He was Eoin McLove without the humour. The man has a voice, but why he needs to girate his hips while using it is beyond me.

Declan O’Rourke may have been a little off form singing Gallileo, but his words about Brogan came from the heart. Brief and poignant, he simply said, “I‘m going to miss him“.

This was the first time the remaining members of The Dubliners have come together for a public performance since the passing of Ronnie Drew. Indeed, yesterday was Ronnie’s month’s mind mass. It brought a sombre but respectful note to the evening and John Sheahan‘s poem to Ronnie made up for in pure emotion what it maybe lacked in eloquence.

The tiny leprechan on a banjo, Bernard ‘Barney‘ McKenna too was a treat. His rendition of The Dubliners classic I Wish I Had Someone to Love Me was one of the highlights of the evening. Overall the four members of The Dubliners (including just two original members) were wondeful, warm, funny and enthusiastic. Having whipped the crowd up, it was a shame the evening took a break after their set.

Though Tom Dunne looked surprisingly uncomfortable up on stage, Something Happens got the whole of the Olympia going again. Loud, abrasive and very tight, the eighties/early nineties Irish pop act proved they still have it. The now classic Parachute sounded fresher than ever.

One surprise of the evening was how fantastic Mary Coughlin was. Looking great and sounding rough and ready, but better than ever she teased us with I Wanna Be Seduced, before bowling me over with a fabulous I Would Rather Go Blind. Ireland’s original cabaret belle is back.

One wonders if Declan O’Rourke, Barney McKenna and Sharon Shannon are drinking from the same water supply. Shannon’s diminutive frame came out on stage and we all got our binoculars ready. Her set was more an exercise in showing the band’s prowess than her own. The Penguin was flawless and though not as well received by the audience as some of the Dubliner’s songs, it was, for me, proof that Traditional Irish music isn’t going anywhere.

The ever wonderful, always spectacular, painfully sexy Camille O’Sullivan performed just three tracks, but stole the show as far as I’m concerned. In These Shoes, her perennial signature tune, introduced the band and set the tone. Here was the reason John Brogan did this job for as long as he did – to see truly great performers make the fullest use of his stage, to witness spectacles and to fall in love with the show.

For John, she dedicated Nick Cave’s The Ship Song:

Brian Whitehead, current manager of the Olympia and just one of the many John has worked with over almost 40 years, brought along Maureen Grant, the bar manager, to present John with a photograph of all the current staff and a Waterford Crystal commemorative bowl. A man of few words, John Brogan was clearly moved as he thanked everyone for making his time in the Olympia great. He begins his speech with “I‘d like to tell Brian Whitehead, I’m not leaving.” Laughter all around, but there was a slight hint of apprehension – afterall, he’s threatened retirement before.

The Fleadh Cowboys, a band who were regulars in the early days of Midnight at the Olympia, finished the night. Their final song, Bob Dylan’s May You Stay Forever Young, was a nice sentiment, but judging by the respect and reverence everyone holds for this great man, I think John Brogan will forever be remembered, fondly and respectfully, as the old man of the Olympia. Have a good and long retirement, John.

According to the excellent Movies.ie news section, the what-happened-next musical about the events following Dorothy’s departure from Oz, Wicked, is on its way to the big screen. Though yet to see it on stage, it is Lottie‘s favourite musical and she can be reduced to a giggling child just by throwing on the soundtrack.

Admittedly, I’m quite excited too about this great story coming to the cinemas, but we’ll have to arrange a trip to New York before then to catch it on Broadway.

Stupid stupid stupid…

(but fun)

Just so you all know, I am still awaiting a reply from O2 with an apology or explanation for the attitudes of the O2 Store staff for the delay in dealing with my complaints. It isn’t bothering me anymore. They have lost a customer in me. I had planned on moving mobile providers away from Vodafone to O2 and there is no chance of that now. We will be buying another Mac in a couple of months. I will be buying it from The Mac Shop (thank you Shane for the nod) rather than the O2 Experience Store. I doubt they care, but over time, if they don’t improve their service, more and more people will turn away from them and they will begin to feel it in their balance sheet.

Previous Posts: O2, Oh Dear and O2’s Response (Part One?)

The first Ghostbusters was a masterclass in comedy and chemistry between actors. Murray and Aykroyd stole the show and were ably backed up by a fantastic cast in Harold Ramis, Ernie Hudson, Sigourney Weaver and Rick Moranis. Ivan Reitman directed a movie that was an instant comic classic.

Five years later, they followed it up with a hyper version of the original. A stronger script, better use of the supporting cast (Annie Potts as Janine and Peter MacNicol as Janosz are excellent). They even managed to top the marshmallow man finish of the original by bringing to life America’s greatest symbol of freedom, The Statue of Liberty. The movies, placed side by side, are perfect. They encapsulate all that was good about 80’s family cinema, without dipping into the schmaltzy Disney bucket of emotion.

So, twenty years on, they’ve finally announced plans to make the movie that has been sitting in development hell for, well, twenty years – Ghostbusters 3. Do we need it? No – the Ghostbusters box set sits proudly and complete on many a DVD shelf across the world. There will be few people crying into their pints if the movie goes unmade. Do we want it? Maybe – there’s a part of me that want to see those characters again, to hear some more of Peter Venkman’s wisecracks, to laugh at Ray Stantz doe-eyed expressions, but this is accompanied by a huge concern that they won’t get it right. Every fan has had two decades to imagine the return of the foursome and I doubt it’s possible to live up to expectations at this stage.

That said, it was always a pet project for Aykroyd and Ramis – so, if anyone could do justice to it, it would be them. They have had the same two decades to dream up the return of the Ghostbusters. This time around they’ll have a bigger budget, they’ll have CG at their disposal, they will undoubtedly be able to attract any actors of their choice into bit roles for the movie. There are a lot of pluses.

But there are still negatives. Ramis and Aykroyd are just producing the movie. Harold Ramis recently confirmed that, this time, the script is being handled by US Office writers, Gene Stupnisky and Lee Eisenberg. Also, the director of the first two, Ivan Reitman, is not yet fully on board. At present Ramis is the de facto director.

A huge part of me is excited about the return of the Ghostbusters, but the disappointment of Indiana Jones adds to my concerns that this will mar the earlier Ghostbusters movies for me, just as this year’s Crystal Skulls has taken something from the old Indy movies. Time will tell and I’ll be keeping an eye out for any news about this movie right up to its release.

I can think of no better way to wake up properly and be forced to greet the day with fresh eyes and a great attitude, than listening to Bolero from Moulin Rouge on full volume as I walk towards work.

I wasn’t in the best form last week or over the weekend. Why didn’t I just play this track on repeat for an hour? All would have been well with my world.

P.S. For the nerds among us, here’s the same tune put to Doctor Who:

I mentioned the rather bizarre horror-musical back in June. There is still no confirmed release date for this side of the Atlantic but it has been pushed back to 7th November in the US. The soundtrack is being released at the end of the month and the good people at Twisted Pictures have offered us a taster here. It’s a ‘secret download’ so the password is “geneco”. The second track, At The Opera Tonight, is fantastic.

Thanks to razorblade_kiss on the Movies.ie forums for the link.

Following on from the stupid and pointless problems I had with the O2 Experience Store – more specifically its sister store at the top of Grafton Street and O2’s customer service department – I am giving time to their response yesterday, which I hope is the first reply before a further more considered follow up.

Firstly, I don’t want to seem petty. The root of my problem is simply a missing power cable for a Mac, so why am I blowing it all out of proportion, you might ask. Had I received decent customer service and had someone in O2 actually tried to help me sort out my problem when I first went to them, this entire fiasco wouldn’t even be a footnote on my blog. As it is, I had to resort to raised voices, almost an hour of standing around and waiting in-store and dealing with a ridiculous number of different people (gradually working my way up the chain of command) before gaining any satisfaction from O2.

Furthermore, just to illustrate the timeline and how this has escalated, it is now eleven days since I first went looking for my missing cable and only yesterday did I get a proper level of customer service from the company in the form of two telephone calls.

Yesterday morning, Thursday 11^th, I received a phone call from O2’s Customer Service operative, John (his name may have been Patrick and I apologise for the vagueness but I was in work and dealing with some other things at the same time as his phone call). John apologised for not getting back to me sooner, but he had just received my email that morning (I sent it on Monday 8^th). He apologised for the issues I encountered and assured me that one of the managers from the stores on Grafton Street would be in contact with me during the day. He was very pleasant and seemed genuinely apologetic and regretful for the experience I had. I thanked him and continued working.

Later in the day, Garreth, the actual manager from the O2 Store (50 Grafton Street) rang me. This is the same man I dealt with last at the O2 Store after working my way through two of his staff members and one faux-manager (Shane). He was very cheery and asked me about my day and if I was busy in work, etc. The small talk was pointless, but I understand he was trying to be contrite, so I played along.

He asked if Mactivate rang me back to sort out my issue last week. I pointed out that I did not get a return call from Mactivate but had to chase them up myself in order to get the power cable. He knew this already. So too, he knew that I had arranged a courier to collect the cable from Mactivate in Blanchardstown. He said that I should not have had to incur this cost (a wonderful exercise in stating the obvious) and that he would reimburse me for the cost of the courier, if I brought a receipt in to him. He also said he would come to some other arrangement regarding compensation for the hassle. I thanked him and accepted his offer to pay for the courier.

I then asked him if I would receive any further response regarding the other issues I mentioned in my email. He was unaware of the extent of my email and asked me to elaborate. I regaled him with my experience at his store with his staff and of their attitude and their reluctance to help me. He was unaware of these parts of my complaint, which bothered me because it was the bad attitudes and lack of customer service that annoyed me far more than the simple cost of a courier (as I write this I receive a fax from the courier firm we use with a copy invoice for €25.89). He said he would request the email and either come back to me on my other concerns. Again I thank him and now await a phone call or email with a satisfactory explanation for the apalling service.

Thus far, O2’s response has not been thorough and has taken far too long to resolve. I am happy that I received some satisfaction in the form of a genuine apology and an offer to pay for the courier. I am happy that they do realise the error in their ways. I appreciate they haven’t resorted to pointing the finger of blame at Mactivate, though I suspect the initial problem of a missing power cable did originate with them. Now I await a proper reply from O2, which might give some explanation as to how their staff could be so rude to me (and to other customers). I would also like to know why I had to get so angry, loud and stubborn before I could get any resolution. I am a generally calm individual and try to avoid conflict, but because of something as stupid as a missing power cord, I have been dragged into this ongoing debacle. And I have no intention of resting until I get a satisfactory follow up.

Previous Post: O2, Oh Dear

Notes: Thank you to all the commenters on my previous post. It’s nice to see that people don’t think I’m being overly sensitive and do realise that I do have a genuine complaint. Thank you too to Damien for highlighting my issue.

It’s a topic that will always come up at this time each year and I wanted to share my 9/11 memory.

I was working in a phone shop in Dublin city centre at the time. It was Tuesday afternoon and, at a time when we would generally be quite busy, the shop was virtually empty. We were prepared for the usual lunchtime onslaught, but it didn’t come.

We, a group of about 8 people, gathered around the big couch in the middle of the showroom and began watching a Batman DVD on the big screen television (not plasma). At last someone got a text message saying a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Centre. We excitedly (yes, excitedly – at this moment it didn’t seem serious at all) paused the DVD and turned over to the news. The reporter was talking about the plane ‘accident’ and replaying the moment the first plane impacted. We were riveted, when suddenly the footage went live and we watched the second plane crash through. I remember everyone around me gasping and one of the girls I worked with screaming.

I, however, just stared. It didn’t seem real. Even as the building came smashing down, even as I saw people falling to their deaths, it just felt like I was watching a film. Part of me thought, “hey, that’s done well”. It was a bizarre feeling and I think it was only when I went to New York and visited Ground Zero that it actually sunk in – the huge loss of life and the impact it had on everyone across America and the world. Someone on the radio this morning said it annoyed her that the millions who have died in war torn countries across the world are basically ignored, while the 3,000 dead at the World Trade Centre disaster will be remembered forever.

I don’t believe that we have placed any special attachment to those who died on September 9th 2001 – it’s just we saw it happen, we watched it live, we were a part of this event as it unfolded. Everyone has their 9/11 story. What’s yours?

I saw this song on YouTube this morning. It’s A-Ha‘s Lifelines. Lifelines is a song I knew but probably hadn’t heard very often over the years. Coupled with this video the song has new punch and meaning. The video is an edited version of Martin Skallerud‘s A Year Along the Abandoned Road which shows a whole year passing by in Norway’s Børfjord in just 12 minutes. Check it out – I love it.

Little Miss talks about her flirtation with death today, but she doesn’t dwell, she doesn’t moan, she isn’t complaining or looking for sympathy. Instead she is asking us all to look for the positives in our lives and share them with her. So, whenever life gets you down and things seem hard or tough, and people are stupid, obnoxious, or daft, and you feel that you’ve had quite enough, what do you focus on and cling to to keep your smile on. Celebrate the positives in your life today. 🙂

Whenever life gets you down, Mrs. Brown,
And things seem hard, or tough,
And people are stupid, obnoxious, or daft,
And you feel that you’ve had quite enough,

Just remember that you’re standing on a planet that’s evolving
And revolving at nine hundred miles an hour,
That’s orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it’s reckoned,
A sun that is the source of all our power.
The sun and you and me and all the stars that we can see
Are moving at a million miles a day
In an outer spiral arm, at forty thousand miles an hour,
Of the galaxy we call the ‘Milky Way’.

Our galaxy itself contains a hundred billion stars.
It’s a hundred thousand light years side to side.
It bulges in the middle, sixteen thousand light years thick,
But out by us, it’s just three thousand light years wide.
We’re thirty thousand light years from galactic central point.
We go ’round every two hundred million years,
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe.

The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding
In all of the directions it can whizz
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light, you know,
Twelve million miles a minute, and that’s the fastest speed there is.
So remember, when you’re feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth,
And pray that there’s intelligent life somewhere up in space,
‘Cause there’s bugger all down here on Earth.

– Monty Python

The lads, Anto, Dardar and Paddy, have survived their journey to the US and have begun their epic journey. They immediately hit the air again for an amazing helicopter journey before discovering the strip.

Follow the guys and their three week journey from Las Vegas to New York on their blog, US All In, assuming they have time to do any blogging.

Sure, ’tis ye olde Englishe tale of Milkshake levies…

From Sir Travors of Blog.