You don’t want to see the moment this guys dislocates his elbow at the Olympic weightliffting competition.

You really don’t.


Oh, alright then, a euro in the door, turn left and click here:



Finished the Chandler. He is just as good as I remember him being (read The Big Sleep years ago) and Sport Damo is getting next crack at my 40 year old paperback version.

That leaves me with the new one. You might know about my obsession with old cinemas from the sister blog to here I run – This Sort Of Thing. This looks totally comprehensive in a way Jim Keenan’s brilliant pictorial history of Dublin cinemas a couple of years ago couldn’t be because of what it was.

I’ll let you know how I get on. Oh crap. Have to read that book for Una’s thing too! That’ll be the next one. Swear.

Ireland 1, Nobodies 1


I know the blogosphere is going to be full of this tomorrow but I wasted another 90 minutes of my life watching the match tonight and then felt hugely conflicted when the team were booed off at the end. My little guy even agreed with them and that’s not like him at all.

I can honestly say that when Steve Finnan scored at the end I didn’t react, in fact I was actively disappointed. Harsh, I know, but true. My reasoning was that if we lost tonight then Steve Staunton’s role would be untenable come tomorrow morning and we could move on, now they may be able to prolong our collective agony for feck knows how long.

My little guy (who’s usually an encyclopaedia of football trivia even at 9!) asked me was McCartney a better Ireland manager. “Who, son?”, says I? “You know dad – Paul McCartney”

“He probably would be son, he probably would be….”

At least he could bring along his mates for the halftime singalong.

And he’s already familiar with having the support of people in green

All this was only 5 short years ago 😦

Time to prepare our thumbs for twiddling next Summer. Never mind.