Meet (be me) Manifesto

Journalism, Music, Music, Journalism, Stretch, Stretch


Somedays you wake up and realise what a mess you are so here’s how to become that mess. God is dead as Hawkes Chesney once said. The following is simply my munki guide of things that I won’t do and behaviours I can’t tolerate. Let your own guide be equally as long and pointless. Like life, see?

“For success is dying in a way that doesn’t cause mucho bothers to others. Kapiche?”
Gene Simmons from Kiss

  1. Do not wear flip-flops for fuck sake
    It seems like such a practical item until you realise they were invented by Belphegor who was not only a prince of hell who encouraged men with promises of wealth; he also found time to push the boundaries of flip-flops by making them widely available in the world outside of swimming pools. It is impossible to walk quickly in flip-flops or get anything useful done.
  2. Do not wear a t-shirt with a pocket
    Hmm. How do I make a perfectly plain t-shirt more exciting to please my boss and I’m on deadline and I have a hangover and my girlfriend left me and I hate everyone and if it wasn’t that my mother was proud of me I would end it all. What’s the pocket for Bob? Em…Tea bags. Cool.
  3. Do not wear slip-ons
    In other countries this may be a done thing, but in Irlanda of the 80s, slip-ons were accompanied by white socks and usually a black flag and occasional balaclava to y’know, accessorise.
  4. Do not wear slip-ons with designs
  5. Do not wear the band’s t-shirt when going to their gig unless it is a metal band, then it is acceptable enough.


    This Chris de Burgh fan was raptured as he entered Chris de Burgh

  6. Shoes with no socks is like fucking a dead person.
    Again, it works in other countries where people are basically attractive, but in Irlanda it is a red flag for sweaty feet, verucas, fungal infections or that drunk who lost his socks but will be commended for managing to get his shoes on. Also known to take off trousers over shoes. Y’know that guy. He’s a survivor.


    How’ye lads? Yahweh, is it? Satzenbrau please.

  7. Men+ white trousers=Hades this way lies. Q.E.D
    Unless you’re Johnny Logan, you’re not going to pull it off. That’s what Johnny Logan says…
  8. Shades in Irlanda
    It’s presumably obvious that if you drive and Audi or BMW you will wear shades even at night because the last thing you want to do is not conform to a stereotype. Some people can get away with it, but until recently in Irlanda it hasn’t been THAT bright. I mean not since 1976: the last time an outbreak of happiness and bad water management hit the country. Also the Irlandese will look like pall-bearers at an IRA funeral.
  9. Do not wear a shirt or t-shirt with a designer logo, unless that logo is the picture of the poor child that has caught its head in a weaving machine, then you’re just being a dick deliberately, so minor kudos.
    Or if you’re Chevy Chase.
  10. An alligator on a shirt is a kick in the genitals to a poor orphan child. It really, really is.
  11. A man bun should not be worn over the age of 20
    There are better ways to start your midlife crises than an unimpressive ponytail. (Write me for better ways. Done ’em all)
  12. Grow a beard. No it’s cool. You’ll be the only fucking one, honest.
    If Karl Marx only knew the trend he started he would be spinning in his pauper’s grave (Irish education right there).
  13. One selfie at most per year and try for fuck sake to at least be ironic about it.
    It’s easy to take a selfie at face value, until you become objective about it and realise what process weirdness is going on in the scenario. This will lead you to believe the person is going through some kind of crisis but…Oh, look 96 likes.
  14. Just coz Nick Cave does it doesn’t mean everyone should walk around a crowd like they’re fucking Jesus or Nick Cave.
  15. Try centrist politics America or just give up.
    The coincidence that your entire political system sits nicely within the parameters of Twitter is unfortunate. The inability to distinguish yourself as a human being with the ability to have a whole range of ideas and communicate them to other people is frankly un-fucking-evolved. Greatest country in your hoop more like.
  16. Boycott ‘Nuala Carey” She ruined TellyBingo for me.
    I will not repeat her name but she is essentially William H. Macy in “The Cooler.” I used to win loads of money on TellyBingo and then she presented and now I owe fucking TellyBingo money. How does this happen? Fuck you Arcade Fire. Come back Shirley.
  17. Saying ‘End of’ at the end of a rant pretty much explains what a fuck-gannet you were with all the preceding words.
    Why do people think with such certainty that they know everything? They don’t. It’s impossible. Also include “I’ll think you’ll find that” and “I’m sorry but..” Usually will have an alligator on chest for leisure wear. Something for the weekend, sir?
  18. Don’t lionise politicians just because they do one good fucking thing.
    Leo Varadkar and Simon Harris got a lot of kudos for the result in the recent referendum for the amazing hard work done by loads of women throughout history, whose innards politicians were playing Russian roulette with. Still, that Leo blooper reel. Laugh? I did not.
  19. Don’t use ‘my missus’ or ‘my bird’ or ‘her indoors.’ Not only does it suggest you have time-travelled from the 1970s series “On the Buses” but is also suggests you are in some kind of control. You are not.
    “Ah, but Jaysus, the lads down the pub say it and dey are the greatest like and dey talk about de burds and de tits and, and, and bleedin Halawa and peeeeeedoes and Billy said the blacks are taking over he did and, and, and, and, and food stamps and the gays. Ah, Jaysus.”
  20. Don’t drink and drive. You’re only fooling the dead child under your front wheel.
    Again, you are not in control of anything while sober. What makes you think that this changes with alcohol? Maybe sit home and read some philosophy or build a birdhouse. Write a novel or crochet a blanket. Just don’t drive a Ford Mondeo over the faces of some poor suspecting humans because you wanted that one more pint of not very good lager.
  21. If you absolutely have to use the demeaning-to-women word ‘cunt,’ direct it at office stationary only.
    Keyboards and mouses especially.
  22. Look up at the sky sometimes. It helps.
    Especially if you’re feeling grim or are trapped in a hole ready to be killed by a 1990s horror character with a name that will never be as good as “The Hitcher” so why did they even bother?
  23. Saying ‘I’m not racist but’ leads to everyone thinking that you would never say that to another race.
    You ARE racist. You are racist against races that haven’t been discovered by you yet.
  24. ‘I’m too long in the tooth’ actually means you are just a lazy prick and the company should stop paying you.
    You will not learn anything new and may as well just die on the spot. Stop ruining my day with your, your vibes.
  25. Michael McIntyre’s jokes are probably not Michael McIntyre’s jokes.
  26. Having an alter-ego over 30 is pathetic. Committing to it means you are probably mentally ill. Call Bressie immediately.



  27. Instagramming pictures of your breakfast is fine. Do not do it if your breakfast is tragic.
    It may also make you mentally ill. It’s food. It’s your food. You are not aesthetic at all. Food makes you shit. Sometimes quicker than at other times. Add coffee. Doesn’t matter how pretty it is, you’re going to shit. That’s what I think when I see breakfast on Instagram. That person will soon take a shit.
  28. Echoing David Cross’s sentiment, does anyone have a solid shit after 30?
    Do they?
  29. Office politics are pointless.
    Whenever it happens. Take a step back, then take a deep breath and then take another step back straight into the elevator, then out the front door and never go back. Never ever go back.
  30. Don’t try to be like your parents. They watched Glenroe; you watched the Wire. They saw Kennedy; you saw Trump. Alternate realities.
    You have nothing in common. Just leave it.
  31. It is easy to avoid reality television by not watching it or reading about it or knowing anyone who knows anything about it
  32. Crisps become very important over the age of 30. Go with it. It can replace religion in your life.
    Shove that shit in your face while quaffing wine. Do it. Go for a run the next morning, whatever. The pleasure of shoving crisps in between your fillings may be the meaning of life. The taste, the artificial pleasure, the…the… Oh my. (With that I am raptured)
  33. Fighting people on Twitter is the equivalent of getting into an argument with a family member. There will never be a winner. This is America…boom boom
    Dogs sniffing each other’s asses have more dignity than twitter warriors.
  34. Stop going to festivals. You’re only encouraging them.
    Go to a gig in a pub or at your local venue. Go somewhere with just music and a bar. No gourmet burgers or fucking wraps. Just a shitty band at a shitty venue. It’s good for the soul.
  35. Do not do the fucking sheet trick with dogs. Leave them alone. Why confuse an already confused slave animal.
    It’s not for their benefit. You could theoretically do the same thing to the elderly in a home. Also these animals adore you unequivocally and look to you for guidance. What happens when you fall down a well? Your retriever will be thinking, “Ha, fuck you. You’re not going to get me with that one again. Wanker. Oh look, a butt.”
  36. Waistcoats: I mean c’mon?
    Maybe, just maybe it’s acceptable in a period drama. Or if you’re Michael Flatley, because I doubt if he has any other clothes.
  37. Bow ties: STOP, like. Unless you’re this guy.  The brother wears what the brother wants.
    Very few adults can get away with wearing a dickie bow and not looking like they are making their first Communion. Very few.
  38. Do not buy an expensive car for social status, buy a small car with a fuck-off engine and see if them pricks will catch you. (Except a Golf. Don’t be that person)
    Or get a dickie bow.
  39. Cleanliness is close to Godliness. Do not lie with pigs, I think.
  40. Do not read reviews if you have your own personal taste on things. Why disagree with someone whose taste you don’t give a shit about in the first place?
  41. Something was good. It’s not good anymore, but it was good. Still better than your sorry excuse for a life.
    No one will remember you.
  42. Having one really good friend is better than having a thousand, unless your one really good friend is the reason you haven’t got a thousand friends. Fuck you, George.
    I want as few people as possible at my funeral because the awkwardness of being at funerals of people you don’t really know should be taken into account when you’re sticking a body in the ground. This applies to weddings too when you’re sticking a body in the ground.
  43. I am not impressed by your sexual prowess as I am not impressed with your saxophone skills. I don’t care who you fucked or that you can play “Blue Train.” Fair fucks but you are making me feel inadequate, thanks.
  44. As an atheist, do not tell your child that he has no soul. Tell other people’s children instead.
    Then they’ll tell their friends who will tell your kid and it’ll all be sorted.

    It’s the circle of life
    And it moves us all
    Through despair and hope
    Through faith and love
    God is dead

  46. Smoke ’em if you got ’em.
    Then quit and wish you had some. (Every fucking day)
  47. Keep on keeping on or until the logical magical conclusion.
  48. Power is always ruined by one clever cynical prick in the corner of the office. Absolute power is ruined by a bunch of cynical pricks in the corner of the office.
  49. Got tattoos? Well, so do grannies on your local beach. Not so underground now are ya, punk?
  50. Borderline psychosis leads to mlogging. Be careful…everyone else.
    Go back 49 paces to item 1 and repeat Ad infinitum.

Return of the Lotus eater

Music, Journalism, Stretch

Things I have found out this week:

1. Work is overrated and long and causes neck pain and back problems that will lead to ol Stretch packing an Uzi with his lunch one of these days. (Probably Thursday)

2. Kate Middleton is as ubiquitous as the insignia for Coca Cola and Heineken, yet tastes rotten in comparison

3. “Livin on a Prayer” chorus makes no sense. Change ‘prayer’ to ‘housing estate’ and the song becomes tangible.

4. I get cravings for the title track of ‘The Fog,” so I had to buy the album, now I need the Dvd. Stupah

6. I have no desire for the new Apple iPhone, happy with what I have. Does this make me a dirty red?

7. Kitchens of Distinction are planning a new album. Fuck sake, are there any new bands? New Fast Automatic Daffodils at least have the decency to stay dead.

8. Mitt Romney is a perfect example of a potential US president, who by getting all his gaffes in early, can manipulate the short term memory of the voters who will think he is kind and someone whose knee they would like to sit on. They will end up on the roof rack.

9. The new Dallas makes the old Dallas look like the Wire.

10. Broadsheet is funny, the commenters on Broadsheet are not.

Until next time, watch out for the fog, you may see Jamie Lee Curtis.

Scarred for life/Bieberedbuttahfli


You think it's easy, hah? One day I will be as interesting as Peter Ustinov. You just wait an see


Stretch right there! Valley!

This is pretty much Stretch’s place in the world. Sitting on a branch, slightly confused. Watching people, wondering when I’ll get the power to brainwash them…it’ll happen. soon

Meanwhile, still laughing hysterically at the performance of The Black Eyed Peas at the Superbowl last night as compared to the actual show they put on. There was something epic about how shit they were, especially when Fergie, obviously realising things weren’t going well, would bellow some nonsensical notes into the night sky, as if to add some soul to the proceedings. Then Usher fell out of the sky and Cher-d his way through half a sentence, before dancing very impressively. This, however, is the equivalent of telling an unfunny joke, receiving awful silence and following with,

“Will I do a dance?”

I laughed and laughed. Thank you Superbowl, that was fucking funny. Next year, Justin Bieber will be sterilised on stage, complete with dancers. USA! USA! USA!

this is bettah…I’m reading Horace Panter’s book Ska’d for Life: A Personal Journey with the Specials, which is great…

Although these days, like D’Angelo Barksdale, you are forced to scream the question,

“String! String! Where’s Dammers String? Where’s Dammers? Where’s Dammers String? Where’s fucking Dammers String? Where the fuck is he? Huh? String! STRING! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! WHERE THE FUCK IS DAMMERS?!”

Stretch Songs of Joy 2009 (third o’treeeeee)

1, Music, Journalism, Stretch

Here I go again on my own!

Going down the only road I’ve ever known!

Like a sister, nuns know how to walk in line!

But I’ve made up my mind!

I ain’t wearing this habit one more time!

Hello everyone or YOU!

I’m still laughing at the falling Pope…that was funny. The Santa brought me alcohol and the Buddha machine. He read my letter. He did. He did! Kids, send by registered post. Works a treat. However, the Santa pointed out that I’ve been a bad little monkey this year. Nothing to do with nuns. I just like the pic.

And it’s true, I have been a bad monkey. I haven’t really been all I could be this year. I’ve been drinking since January and this has affected my ability to construct meaningful mlogs. Next year, every speech I shall give will start out from the brain stem of Debbie Harry, flow through the blood vessels of Gary Barlow, meet at the colon of Mariah Carey, then be catapulted through Morten Harkett’s innards and like the sound of a dog retching be released through Celine Dion’s withered oesophagus into the ether where you, all of you, will say:

“Stretch really has changed..He’s a good monkey after all.”

Until then! Fuck a Nun! Oh yeah!

Nathan Fake – Fentiger

He’s back again. Yes, the man who likes to write music about architectural structures throws out this beast about a misspelled font. It’s his second entry in my SSOJ or sausage for short. Nathan says he’s very happy to be included in my list. “I’m very happy to be included in your list,” said Nathan balefully. Watch out 2010, this is a man on the rise. Expect him to work with Madonna, the Killers and pests Coldplay as he balefully drags their equipment around Europe as a roadie. Christian Balefully. Ha! No, he really is special and should be experienced. Kudos

Sonic Youth – Antenna

Tommy Tiernan described them as “Old people dressed up as teenagers.” The Gandalfesque Sonic Youth made a really good album this year. The Eternal gave back a clarity and consistency to SY fans that hasn’t been heard in a while. I’ve always been a huge Sonic fan, but some of their albums bored the piss outame…Most prolific bands will be hit or miss, but the disappearance of Jim O’Rourke and the arrival of ex/current Pavement bassist Mark Ibold seems to have freed them from the experimental hole they have been languishing in for quite a while now. Some of their more ‘out there’ stuff was really good, but like most people who smoke pot constantly, reality can seem more of a buzz sometimes. Expect the next album to be the sound of chipmunks fed through 200w speakers on the end of a Theremin.

Anti-Pop Consortium – Volcano

Fluorescent Black is the new album. My favourite hipper-hoppers brought out this gem to make me look at people and cross my arms, live my life like Bodie Broadus and deliver lines from The Wire until it annoys people. Not sure I understand the video. Something to do, actually I don’t understand. Do you? There’s a great remix of the song by that Four Tet dude right here. *****CLICKMEBABY****** Might be better than the original, not sure. Both classics…Yo

The XX – Crystalised

Speaking 0f Four Tet, these oh-so-hot-right-now dudees went to the same school as him and other famous unknowns. Anyway, although I avoid bands that make NME journalists cream themselves and others, I kinda like these. There’s a nice feel to them and they probably deserve the hype, unlike the ridiculously overrated Arctic Monkeys. The Monkeys (no relation) are a good band, but it is weird to see them at the top of stupid journalists’ endless top bands/albums of the decade lists. It’s weird. They’re good, but y’know, c’mon, that’s fucked. Makes me angry. Still if The XX still exist in two years, I’ll be amazed. When I’m amazed. my bum goes bright purple and you will all know why.

Fuck Buttons – Flight of the Feathered Serpent

If anyone would like to buy me a nice Gibson geeetar, I would much appreciate it. This last one is pure gold. Two men making noise and forcing your eardrums to co-exist happily with this sonic mind-fuck. The album Tarot Sport was produced by your favourite and mine, Andrew Weatherall. The whole album is exhilarating and worth an enormous listen. Ignore the video. it was made by one of those narcissistic YouTube types who must, I mean must show their art to the planet.

And now, the Pope…

Happy Fucking New Year

100 Best Quotes From “The Wire”


Mos def

Ya feel me

Whack-a-Paddy-to-Deathery Uimhir a ceathar(4): Fatima Mansions

1, Music, Journalism, Stretch

People in this patch of potting compost tend to talk of soccer player and all round shit-stirrer Roy Keane as the most scary evil thing to come out of Cork (Cark), but that’s rubbish. There is another member of that self-righteous, mostly striking clan. His personality is far more evil than anything the historical ball-sac DeValera could ever have counted on, in his weird Catholic, misogynistic, deluded way.

Cathal Coughlan is the man. He is an evil Man. He is an angry man. He is quiet enough these days. Like an

Empty when bag gets full

Empty when bag gets full

unsatisfied horse ramming a chestnut tree, he arrived in my vision during the early nineties as part of Fatima Mansions, named after a Dubalin southside block of flats which made the Wire look like Desperate Housewives. Schizophrenic music followed. His previous band Microdisney were cutting edge in the Irish alt scene at the end of the 80s. Morphing to the Fatima Mansions, he brought an ungodly rage with him, apt for his band who got kind of stuck between a number of genres that were at the fore of music at that time. They didn’t fit in neatly to the Madchester scene, or Britpop (obviously), or Grunge, leaving them unmarketable, even though they were darlings of the NME and Cathal seemed to be using Danni Minogue as a pin-cushion.

The different personalities that came out on their albums meant that for every “Evil man” or “Blues for Ceaucescu,” there were beautifully odd songs such as “Take me to the wilderness on time” or “Berties Brochures.” Fatima Mansions will never be an important Irish band, but they were original, something that you couldn’t say of Bell X1.  Anyway the anger dissipated and Cathal became a critically acclaimed solo artist around these parts, seemingly at peace with the world and even Britain. He’s too quiet though. If you ever visit Cark, take care that in between the statues of Michael Collins and deep-fat fryers, he lurks, and if he’s angry, you are fucked!

Speaking of Danni Minogue, we all remember she was the pudgy less talented sister to that K-hole Australian thing. Look at her now on X-Factor after she completed her current transformation of biting down hard on the inside of her cheeks and then attaching a vacuum cleaner to her lips. Why is no flesh attractive to these goons? Maybe Simon Cowell flosses with her? Well, that’s all he would do with her, isn’t it?

So, for anyone who thinks Cark people don’t have chips on their shoulders:

and some more

He’s behind you! Y’knaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!