DarrenByrne.com

Do Not Watch This

Do Not Watch This

Do Not Watch This

Do Not Watch This

Do Not Watch This

I warned you!

It seems to be a creative hotbed. There’s so much fun stuff going on there all the damn time. And here is the latest episode in the Ventures series, The Mystery Of The Night Time Refuse.

Vultures is the story of three private detectives who run a small scale private investigation agency in small town Ireland. The moderately successful business is called Vulture Private Investigations and specialises in dealing with divorce cases, fraud, missing persons, animals and plants and occasionally, just occasionally, they’ll be served up something that approximates a mystery.

Following on from my previous post:

True to form, rather than simply moaning about it, a friend of mine, G, contacted PaddyPower.com to make his feelings known on their exploitation of the possible assassination of Barack Obama, and to seek an explanation as to how they could offer such bets.

Here is G’s email:

From: G** [mailto:**@hotmail.com]
Sent: 08 November 2008 02:19
To: Support; Whelan, Susan; Robertson, Ken; Power, Paddy
Subject: For the attention of Patrick Kennedy Re: Obama Bet

 

Mr Kennedy,

I would like to bring to your attention, and express my utter disdain and disgust over your advertised bet Will Barack Obama survive his first term as president? To take bets on whether a man will live for the next 4 years is truly deplorable and is reminiscent of Roman gladiatorial times. Would you like Barack Obama to make sport out of it for you? Maybe something like The Running Man would be in order?

I understand that you have taken the bet off your website, but it is still available at one of your many betting shops, and I believe the current odds are 12-1 A good show of support for the leader of the biggest economic power in the world.

For Paddy Power to be taking bets over whether or not a man will be assassinated shows a complete lack of ethics, decency and common sense. I can assure you that I will be cancelling my account and will not be using Paddy Power again. I would also suggest you instruct your shops to remove this bet, refund any current wagers and make an apology on your website.

I look forward to receiving your thoughts on this matter.

G**

Paddy Power replied with a very well considered and, in my view, acceptable explanation of their stance:

Subject: RE: For the attention of Patrick Kennedy Re: Obama Bet
Date: Sat, 8 Nov 2008 14:50:29 +0000
From: Paddy2@paddypower.com
To: **@hotmail.com

 

Hi G**,

Thank you very much for your email, I appreciate the opportunity to clear this matter up.

Contrary to recent reports Paddy Power never have and never will offer odds on Barack Obama to be assassinated.  The market which has been misinterpreted was on Obama not to finish his term which covers political reasons for cutting the term short such as impeachment and resignation – Richard Nixon resigned and Bill Clinton came close.

Because of this misinterpretation we have now clarified our betting and simply offer individual odds of 28/1 on Obama to resign and 33/1 on him to be impeached among the scores of other Obama special bets which have been requested by our customers.

I hope this has helped clarify the matter.

Kind regards,

Paddy Power

They are an intelligent bunch in PaddyPower.com and I have no doubt that they were using the ambiguity of the bet to incorporate assassination as one of the possible ways he could fail to serve a full term. That said, they were not explicitly accepting bets on his murder and they did make efforts to rectify their mistake, if you view it as a mistake.

I think they acted reasonably on this. Anyone else? Did Paddy Power act irresponsibly or is this just another case of the media creating a story where there is none?

I was due to run the Live Blog this week, but I won’t be home in time, so Lottie is going to do the honour instead. If you’re watching The Apprentice tonight and you are near a computer, pop over the TheNationalLottie.com at 9pm to join in the fun.

In today’s darkened world, where trust is a myth and loyalty a commodity, deep in the belly of modern Ireland a change is happening. Two opposing forces are stacking the board in anticipation of war. There is no good, there is no evil, there is simply two antipodal units seeking to make their truth known.

The time has come, my friends, to choose a side, to know where we stand, to know what we believe, and know why we believe it. The time has come to prepare our hearts for the inevitable fallout, and persecution against the true children of Blog, to put purpose in our hearts, that we will remain faithful, and continue to proclaim the truth no matter the consequence. Maxi Cane is a man of truth, of honour, of valour and great talent. I call on you to take arms and side with this noble hero against the tyranny of K8, against her misguided ways and erroneous beliefs. K8 is not evil, K8 is no monster. She has merely taken her cue from a man of no conscience, a man of great persuasion, a man who’s name will go down in history alongside some of the world’s most notorious dictators. This man is her father, The Grandad.

There can only be one victor/victoria, there can only be one outcome. Choose your side in this war. Choose the side of Maxi Cane.

President-Elect Barack Obama’s relentless and tiring electioneering has ended in success, and now the hard part begins. Obama must now turn his head to running a country in the midst of one of the worst economic crises in its history, where unemployment levels are rapidly rising, the educational system is failing, foreign policy is driving wedges across the planet and to top it all off, he must contend with potential attempts on his life.

Already, two white supremacist skinheads were arrested in Tennessee over plans to go on a killing spree and eventually shoot the President-Elect. And it would be naive to think this was an isolated event. There will be more attempts: authorities know this; Obama knows this; in fact, the media virtually counts on it.

Of course, true to form, Paddy Power has even offered odds on it occurring. This morning they offer odds of 12-1, down from 16-1 yesterday, that Obama will not finish his first term in office due to assassination. This is disgraceful and should be discouraged. Now, where can I get a piece of this action?

Go on, people seem to be terrified to talk about it, for fear of being crass, but I remember a lot of talk around the time of Bush’s last ‘victory’ that suggested he was a bigger target than ever before. I would not be surprised if there is a successful attempt on his life. I sincerely hope it doesn’t happen, but odds are there will be numerous attacks. What do you think? Will he make it through the full term?

The wonderful, stupendous, delightful, phenomenal, sensational Grannymar:

4.30 in Dundrum cinema

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It’s the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

It’s the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled – Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It’s the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

It’s been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he’s fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation’s promise in the months ahead.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation’s next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that’s coming with us to the White House. And while she’s no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics – you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you’ve sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to – it belongs to you.

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn’t start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington – it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation’s apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

I know you didn’t do this just to win an election and I know you didn’t do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime – two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they’ll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor’s bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America – I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you – we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won’t agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can’t solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it’s been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years – block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek – it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it’s that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers – in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House – a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, “We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.” And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn – I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world – our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down – we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security – we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright – tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

For that is the true genius of America – that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that’s on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She’s a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing – Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn’t vote for two reasons – because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she’s seen throughout her century in America – the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can’t, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

At a time when women’s voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that “We Shall Overcome.” Yes we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves – if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America

From BNO News

After a relatively short election results night, Barack Obama has been declared forty forth President of the United States. From about 2.30am GMT onwards, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion. Once it was clear than Obama had taken Ohio, the first Democrat to win the  state since 1964, it was almost a dead cert. Then, at last, at 4am, Barack Obama was declared the winner with 273 electoral votes, taking California and Washington. The first African American President – a huge and important moment in time.

John McCain’s camp will undoubtedly be taking stock today, wondering where they went wrong and I’m sure there’s plenty of people who can point to the choice of Sarah Palin, the poor use of campaign funds, the connection to Bush and the strength of Obama’s campaign as being major factors. But there’s very little point in doing a post mortem.

The Democrats have taken back the US Presidency for the first time in eight years and we can only hope this will spark a change. And not just a change for the US citizens, but a change for the world, a change in the world’s current economic standing and a change in how the US interacts with the world – surely a major change in US Foreign Policy is due. This is hopefully the start of a great time for the US and for the world as a whole.

There is clearly an uphill struggle ahead. The recession will need to be battled, there is an education crisis, the war still rages and can’t be easily concluded and more than all of this, the impression the rest of the world has of America needs to be turned around. Is President Obama the man to do this? Time will tell.

On a sidenote, this is my 300^th blog post. I’ve enjoyed every bit of the last 300 and look forward to the next.

We were in New Orleans for the last US Presidential Election in 2004 and couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement and furore. Every bar, every theatre, every shopping mall and restaurant we went into, there were campaigners and voters waxing lyrical about the future of the United States. We spoke to so many people while in New York, firstly, and then in New Orleans for the final few days of electioneering, and the one thing we couldn’t understand (once the results came in, that is) is how John Kerry lost. Without fail, everyone we spoke to was a Democrat, or at the very least, they were anti-Bush. So, it was a colossal shock to see Bush return for a second term. Okay, so the debacle of the voting booths in Ohio marred the results, but it truly was Kerry/Edwards team’s election to lose, and lose it they did.

This time around the Obama/Biden team are not resting on their laurels and even with a significant 7 point lead (according to some polls) they are showing no signs of letting up in their fight for the White House.

Tonight, as the results roll in, I’ll be joining Suzy et al Live Blogging the results and hopefully will have the stamina to see it through to the announcement of the forty-forth President of the United States of America.

Head on over to Suzy’s site or to the Live Blog to join in the revelry.

I‘ve been watching and participating in the live blogging of The Apprentice since the show started 6 weeks ago. This week Gav on EverydayisElectionDay hosted the live blog and I think it’s fair to say we were none too impressed. Perhaps it was because we already knew the outcome, but the whole show just felt so contrived and scripted.

This weeks show, where the two teams had to organise a recycling drive, was the dullest so far. The previous two weeks saw upsets in the Boardroom, but thanks to TV3’s media drive, we knew exactly who was going this week before the show even began – Joanna Murphy. A long drawn out show where it was difficult to see who was doing what and how well, the show seemed to making every effort to paint Joanna as the bad guy. And in the end, they did show that she had cheated by contacting friends and family to help her out. The only genuinely entertaining part of the show was after the Boardroom when Joanna was in the car gloating about her cheating ways. Some people in the live blog hated her – I loved her and thought it was TV gold. Shame the rest of the show was so poor.

It was also revealed this week that last weeks show left out a confrontation that Mark (who was Fired) had with one of the Renault dealership’s customers. Fingers crossed that next weeks show will be better and more honest to the viewer. Join me on DarrenByrne.com to be part of the Live Blogging event.

No, I’m not telling another existential horror story. Your bejaysus will remain inside you, unscared.

I was thinking, firstly about how strange a time Halloween is, how people behave differently, dressing up and embracing the macabre, and that led me to thinking about other times and festivals throughout the year – the chocfest of Easter, the romaniticed February 14th, the consumer mad joydom of Christmas. We’re a mad lot really!

But surely that’s what life is all about – embracing the wild and mad, the good and bad, the happy times and sad. Tonight, we’re going to the Rocky Horror showing in the Sugar Club and…what will I be wearing?

Yesterday, I tried on six different types of high heeled shoe in Miss Fantasia’s on South William Street, including knee high hooker boots. Last night, to try out my costume, I wore Lottie‘s fishnet tights and corset. I wore suspenders!!! How’s that for embracing the mad?

I have brought a more conservative outfit with me too, in case I chicken out -0 the thoughts of being seen in public looking like Frank N Furter frightens the funk out of me. But we’ll see…

What’s everyone else doing this weekend?

Intro – Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 8

David didn’t quite comprehend. He stood outside Dark Hill Chambers and stared at it for a moment. He looked back at his taxi driver and asked him to hang on outside for a few more minutes to make sure he was settled. Handing the driver a substantial tip, he thought about his booking. He was sure this wasn’t what he had booked on the website, and yet the shape and style of the building did look somewhat familiar. The sunlight was obscuring his vision a little and perhaps the photos for the website were taken many years ago…but didn’t the site say it was a brand new family run hotel? He would look into it once he was settled.

“They better have broadband,” he muttered before pushing past an equally perplexed guest.

David Corkish had a high powered, demanding job in banking in the IFSC in Dublin. David was a large man with bright red bushy hair on his head and a matching beard covering the rest of his face. He was like some ginger werewolf and he liked the individuality of that. At 49 years of age, the only thing that kept him from falling over the edge in his stressful job was the four or five times each year he would take himself away from the city’s bustle and be treated to a relaxing countryside break. A colleague in customer service recommended Dark Hill Chambers. She would get an earful on Monday morning.

Halloween was one time of the year when he made sure to be away. His house was a prime target for the trick-or-treating little bastards and time away from that could only be good. That said, as he looked at the bug-eyed receptionist with her unkempt hair and peculiar odour, David wondered whether he had left Halloween at home at all. In fact, he looked around the damp lobby and awaited the arrival of Vincent Price.

Price did not show up, but instead a seven foot tall, cross-eyed boy (the term ‘boy’ is used warily) lurched in to help David with his luggage – a sign made it clear that the elevator was broken.

“Look, I’m sure there’s some mistake here,” David pleaded with the receptionist.

She smiled with a mouth full of yellow and black teeth and nodded slowly as she handed him his key.

“But really, this isn’t what I booked,” he implored.

She must be on drugs, he deduced, as she smiled a smile that seemed to extend, stretch and contort beyond the sides of her face. She gestured towards the stairs.

“Right…I’m going to look at the room, but if I’m not satisfied I’ll be right back down to speak with the manager“. David wasn’t even sure she had heard him.

The receptionist’s grin extended incomprehensively further and her bugging eyes seemed to protrude further than is medically possible. A little freaked, David turned towards the stairs where the ‘boy’ was waiting with his suitcase and laptop bag. He thought of the broadband –

“Oh, and one more thing…” turning to where the large reception desk was, David now saw only a tall bookcase with a leather chair at its side. The few fellow guests who were behind him as he checked in were nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said to his porter before rushing for the front door. It was dark outside now and the full moon was high. His taxi and the other cars were gone and in the distance he heard the howl of a wolf.

David laughed out loud – “fucking Halloween“. He was not one to be scared by such triviality. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Back inside the house, the lobby was now completely empty. The porter must have brought his bags up already. As he crossed the lobby for the stairs, each and every floorboard creaked louder than the last to the point of absurdity. The final board before the staircase was so loud that it sounded more like a man screaming than a rickety floorboard. David was forced to cover his ears as he rushed up the first few steps.

No noise now. Four steps up, he turned around to see nothing but a silent, empty lobby. He heard the distant wolf’s howl again, but didn’t laugh this time.

“Parlour tricks and simple theatrics,” he nervously reassured himself. His logical mind put it all together quickly. The hotel was running a Halloween themed weekend. Understandable. He made his booking and they must have assumed that he wanted to be part of the event, so they were providing him with the same ‘fright fest’ experience that all other guests paid for. Content with this explanation, David smiled and ascended the stairs.

In a hotel with so few rooms, he wondered about his room number, 237, but dismissed it as a quirk.

His room was on the second floor and as he reached the floor he stared down the impossibly long corridor. His logical brain decided the corridor was at least three times the length of the house. Was it an optical illusion?

Pushing cagily forward, he wondered where the porter had gone with his bags. Then he heard an elevator grind to a halt at the far end of the corridor. The elevator was broken, wasn’t it.

A repetitive creaking, almost whistling noise from behind him. Turning quickly, he saw the staircase had been replaced by a corridor four, maybe five times longer than the house. So shocked by this he jumped and knocked his black thick-lensed glasses to the floor.

Fumbling along the carpet for his glasses, the repetitive creak got louder. It was heading his way, whatever it was. It was coming for him. Louder.

Louder.

Closer.

Louder.

He found his glasses and looked around. Coming from one end of the corridor was a small boy on his tricycle pedalling swiftly in David’s direction. The boy, with red demonic eyes began laughing wildly. From the other end of the corridor, the elevator pinged. David turned in time to see it open and he saw gallons of thick red blood pour out towards him.

The river of blood to his left and the demon child to his right, David clasped his head and screamed “stop it“.

The creaking and laughing stopped. He looked to his left and saw no elevator, but a normal corridor ending just feet from him. The staircase which he had ascended only moments earlier was to his right. He was standing outside room 237, crying.

In an effort to pull himself together, David went into his room and headed towards the bathroom. Like much of the hotel, his room was dark and drab. Although, there was nothing strange here. No goblins in the corner or demonic children hiding behind the dresser. His bags were on his bed and David breathed a sigh of relief.

After washing his face in the bathroom sink, he looked up at his reflection and saw something that shocked him more than anything else he had seen that evening. It chilled him to the core……

I have always been a horror fan. Whether it was the early Stephen King novels or the kitsch Freddy Krueger movies late at night, I loved it all. So, when Maxi suggested this project, I was very excited and looked forward to writing a traditional suspenseful horror, like the many I grew up reading.

David Corkish is a character that I’ve had in my head for a long time. He has a life, he has opinions and he has views that even counter my own. In my head he is a well-rounded character and I’m glad I’ve been able to use him in a story.

I am sitting in bed putting the finishing touches to my story, which is due to run shortly, and I’m starving.

Stupidly, and like something from my story, I am startled by a sound coming from the bathroom. I put on my dressing gown and go exploring, but of course there’s nothing there. While in the bathroom, I use the facilities and go to wash my hands. Hands clean, I splash water on my face and then look up at my refection. I jump back in horror at what I see. Am I dreaming?

It’s not my reflection I see. I don’t recognise the man in the mirror and yet, he seems somewhat familiar. I see a fat man with ginger hair and beard, putting on a pair of thick black glasses.

It’s David Corkish. I’ve gone insane. Curled in the corner now, I reach for the door handle which jams as per usual. As I start to panic the face in the mirror speaks and I hear a voice that I have only ever heard in my imagination.

David grabbed his glasses and thrust them on. His eyes were surely playing tricks on him. In the mirror was a frightened young man. The young man was cowering in the corner of the room and David elected to speak to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Who are you?” I shout.

“This is my room. My name is David. It’ll be ok,” David said calmly, hiding his own fear.

“What? You can’t be!” I try to regain some composure by standing up and tightening the belt of my dressing gown.

“Relax sonny, what’s your name?” David tried again.

“This can’t be happening”, I mutter to myself before I ask him again, “Who are you?”

David remained calm and spoke again.

“My name is David Corkish and this is my…“

I cut him off mid-sentence.

“I know who you are!” I’m shouting at the man now. Fear is being replaced by anger.

“What do you mean, you know who I am?” David’s fear was beginning to take over again. “Who are you?”

“I wrote you,” I shout. “You’re one of my characters”.

David didn’t understand. He began to shake with a mixture of fear, confusion and hunger.

“Hold on,” I tell him, before finally opening the bathroom door. I run to the bedroom to fetch my laptop. I’ll show him that he is a figment of my imagination. I’ll show him that I wrote him into that bathroom. This is crazy.

He wondered what was happening. Was it more trickery and theatrics by the hotel’s owners? This felt more real though. He looked at the mirror and saw that not only was his own reflection missing but so too was the reflection of the bathroom. The dimensions of the room on the other side of the mirror were the same, but the tiles were different, the light was different, and in place of his own cast iron bath tub was a modern shower unit. Was it just a window into another room? He placed his hand against the glass and his hand fell through like he was pressing against jelly. He pulled his hand back and looked at it. The glass wobbled for a moment before return to its solid sheen.

David looked around his own room. In the distance he could hear the faint creak from the child’s tricycle again, then the howl from outside. He reached forward once more and pushed his whole arm through the soft glass.

I unplug the laptop and take a moment to catch my breath. I must be dreaming, or having some kind of hallucination. Things like this don’t happen. They don’t. Picking up the laptop, I head back towards the bathroom.

“Right, here’s the part where you meet the receptionist…” I begin but stop, frozen to the spot, when I see the man’s arm coming towards me from the mirror. The glass around his arm ripples and I can hear laughing and a creaking noise from behind him.  I hear a loud shrill scream and drop my laptop as I clasp my hands around my ears. I close my eyes and scream, “stop it”.

Silence.

I open my eyes. Is it over? I look around and I’m not in my bathroom anymore. There’s a cast iron bathtub beside me and I scramble into the adjacent room to see a drab hotel room with someone’s luggage on the bed.

I run back to the bathroom and beat my hands against the mirror. It’s not my reflection. It’s David Corkish. But he’s matching my movements. I close one eye, he closes one eye. I wave, he waves. I reach up to my face and I feel a large beard beneath my nose. I look down to see a fat belly and fat hands. I’m wearing thick glasses. What’s going on? Help me!

This can’t be real. I run out of the bathroom, out of the hotel room and into the corridor. It’s silent. This can’t be happening to me. It’s only a story, it’s only a story.

The story. I remember the story. Darragh is here somewhere. Maxi, K8, Chris, Lottie, Rick, surely they can help me. No, no wait – their stories are finished. There’s only one person who can help me, who can save me. I have to find H. His story is next. His story begins now.

H.G. Well‘s War of the Worlds was first performed on radio by Orson Welles 70 years ago today. Appropriate then that tonight Devious Theatre in Kilkenny are producing their own take on it. It will be aired on KCLR this evening at 9pm and you can also listen in online by visiting KCLR96FM.com.

In the meantime, here’s the original version with Orson Welles: