Posts Tagged 'Eurovision'

Douze Pointe? That’s Just Fowl.

It’s almost that time of year again. The time of year when people of no evident talent from all over dress up like eejits and get their few minutes of fame on television, while people at home watching just laugh and laugh. No, not Celebrity Jigs & Reels. Something almost as tedious.

The freaking Eurovision Song Contest.

Every year I have to watch as the Late Late gets hi-jacked by a bunch of “musicians” appearing a few weeks before the contest so they can claim how they’re going to win and have a brilliant music career and all that shite.

If they actually won, then they might claim a hit out of it, or at the very least get some TV presenting work. Like Linda Martin. Although she had to do some other things for the bosses which I’m contractually bound not to tell anyone.

But it involved handcuffs, some whipped cream and a goose.

Anyway, we even have the non-national entrants appearing on the show to appease our multicultural society. So that’s why we had Poland’s Eurovision entrant on the show on Friday. Isis Gee is her name. Yes, yes I know. Gee is a slang for a lady’s front-bottom. I would be making jokes, only we’re sending a turkey as our entrant.

Oh Dustin, Dustin, Dustin. My mortal enemy. I hope the Serbians eat him alive. He’s the cheekiest turkey to ever exist. Dustin once claimed that he’d take over the show after me.

Never! It’s my show rightfully! I’m going into cryogenics as soon as something bad happens to me. I have it all planned out. Every Friday I can be thawed out for three hours to present the show.

It’s a bit extreme, yes, but I wouldn’t be the first TV personality to use modern science to keep in the business. Like Anne Doyle (Botox) or Joe Duffy (Calf implants). Even Mike Murphy is part robot. He only left Winning Streak because Derek Mooney unplugged his batteries.

Now Mike just remains motionless in a store-room at RTE headquarters, gathering dust. Poor guy.

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The Legend Of St. Pat.

Welcome one and all to a very special post.

Today is a national holiday in Ireland. St. Patrick’s Day. One of many days dedicated to yours truly.

My Outfit for Today.

Don’t I look spiffing in my celebratory garments?

Now, since it’s such a very special day, I’m going to regale you all with a story:

 


“The Legend of St. Pat”

(dum-dum-dummm)

Pat was born in Dublin 4 in 1948 AD. When he was 14 years old, a man named Niall of the Forty Coats captured him. He took him to Cavan, where Pat was sold as a slave to a farmer named Murphy. By day, Pat minded sheep and pigs on a hill in Ballyjamesduff. By night, he prayed to the gods of RTE, for some way out of his farming life.

Then one night he heard a voice in his head. It was the voice of Gay Byrne. He was telling Pat that he had to escape and that the people of Ireland needed him. Pat thought he was dreaming but Gay told him “No gobsheen, you’re not dreaming. There’s a bus waiting in Cavan town that’ll take you to where you need to be. Now get going, ya fecking sparrowfart!” The next day, Pat ran all the way to the bus depot. He hid inside the luggage compartment. 6 days later, he made it back to Dublin.

Pat wasn’t there long when again he heard the Voice of Gay. The Voice told him to go to Donnybrook to tell the RTE staff all about his vision of a new way of TV presenting. Pat realised then that his calling in life was to be a television presenter. It wasn’t going to be easy. Pat went to University College Dublin to start his training. Many years later, he was awarded his degree in Chemical Engineering.

Ah Feckit!” said Pat. “I signed up for the wrong course!”

Many more years later, after receiving proper training, Pat and some followers went to Slane. One of the main bands playing were The Chieftains. Pat and his followers decided to light a fire when it got dark. This greatly angered The Chieftains, who wanted to light a fire first. (Traditionally, concertgoers would huddle around a fire and pass round their smuggled bottles of poitin, and a great hooley would be held.) The Chieftains demanded that the leader of this insolent gang be brought before them for questioning.

Pat began to speak before the backstage VIPs. He explained about how he had a dream that he was supposed to be a TV presenter on RTE. “I was told that the people of Ireland needed me in their presenting lives. I need to be part of the Trinity – Television, Radio and, if I have time, you can let me write for the RTE Guide.

The Director General, Aonghus McAnally, overheard this speech and was impressed. Pat was given a job presenting current affairs on the TV show “Tonight Tonight, Today, The Day Today, Tonight”. Pat continued to present news to all those who listened in Ireland. But this wasn’t watched by many people. Pat needed to spread his messages to the entire nation.

Pat’s path towards presenting took a larger step when he presented the 1988 Eurovision Song Contest. When Celine Dion came on stage with her snake-like dancing, Pat grabbed a wooden stick and drove Celine out of Ireland, never to return.

This further impressed the people of Ireland. Pat was awarded a presenting job on the show “Kenny Live”. Here he was able to further hone his skills as a presenter.

Then in 1999, The Voice of Gay spoke to him again. “Right ya fecking eejit. I’m getting too old for this shite. You can take this job and do what ya like with it. I’m off to work in the Government.” As Gay left the show on his golden Harley Davidson motorcycle, Pat took over as the lead TV presenter in Ireland.

And to this day, Pat continues his work delivering news and interviews to all the people around Ireland. His feast day is celebrated every Friday night (from September to May) at 9.30pm.

People across the country now commemorate this special event by wearing a small piece of mahogany on their person, or by huddling around the television with the family, as they all chant the same hallowed mantra in unison:






Jaysus, that Pat’s an awful Bollix.


“And Then I Asked: Do You Keep it in a Jar?”

Friday night’s show was interesting to say the least.

First we had the guy who became a woman. I know, a woman! Isn’t technology amazing nowadays?

He/She was telling his/her courageous story about how he/she overcame adversity and abuse from ignorant people throughout his/her life. Until I cut in with the question we were all thinking. Did he/she get the balls snipped off?

I suppose that was a moot question for me. I already knew. You see, I have hidden cameras attached to the RTE toilet ceilings.

Don’t judge me. Those babies pay for themselves. I can see what all the celebrities get up to in there, from the safety of my secret office. You wouldn’t believe how easy I was able to blackmail Glenda Gilson last year. She didn’t want anyone to see that incident where she got explosive diarrhoea. Which is how she ended up doing that Celebrity Skating thing.

You wouldn’t believe what we caught John Waters doing in the jacks for him to end up on the show.

Anyway, after we had the guy/girl on, I had a man and his wife on who had moved to Thailand, talking about the sex industry there. I wasn’t paying much attention. I was fiddling about with my laptop underneath the desk trying to book tickets to Bangkok for the summer.

Ironically,the laptop slipped off my lap and i ended up Banging my Little Pat, as it were.

I eventually recovered and came to my senses by the time we had the Eurosong contestants on. In a word, they were absolutely hopeless. It appears my campaign to send Spiral from Big Brother over there is dead in the water.

Even worse is me having to introduce one of my arch-nemeses.

Dustin the Turkey. I hate him so much. And his attempts to upstage me at every opportunity. The pair of us have a long-standing rivalry. Ever since the time I told him Bosco was better than him.

I went to find Dustin backstage and to confront him about how he always mocks me. Ended up finding him hiding in a suitcase. I berated him for a whole hour. But he just gave me the silent treatment.

That Feathered Bastard.


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