Tuesday, January 17, 2012

TV3 and BBC NI Spring Schedules

Written down on a pack of Major, and secretly delivered to Disgrace in an infamous Glory-Hole in Supermacs Galway, TV3 have launched their latest Spring schedule. I think you’ll agree, emigration has never seemed so desirable.

Also, after receiving a coded message from a raspy voiced Ulster-man, we can also reveal the new BBC Northern Ireland listings, under the threat of death of course.

BBC NI Spring Season Highlights:

The Sex Counties – A province divided by religion, yet unified by its love of all things carnal. Tonight, borders prove no barrier to romance, when a man attaches a telescopic device to his wee member and makes relations with a catholic in Dundalk

Border Collie – Crime drama about a dog who patrols the border crossing in Monaghan. Tonight: Ringo (that’s his name) is run over by train

Pipe Up! – Celebrating the best in local pipe bands. Today we meet the Falls Road Pipers, who quickly demonstrate that rather than ‘blowing pipes’ for musical enjoyment, they prefer to ‘blow up’ pipe bombs, for killing enjoyment - Featuring ‘Shultz’s Apricot Sonata’ on brass.

Orange Orders – CCTV footage of people ordering orange drinks from various pubs in the province

NI on film –‘ The Lord, the Lover and the Massive Car Bomb’ – Emotional tour-de-force about a want-away lord, who falls in love, buys a car and gets blown up. The twist is that it’s not necessarily in that order!

The Northern Irish News from Northern Ireland on BBC northern Ireland (not available in Northern Ireland) – News Flash – Man shows arse on bus in Belfast, sheep gives birth to chicken in Down and multiple decapitations at Windsor Park fail to ruin Milk Cup final

UTV news accidentally broadcast on BBC NI news – A Catholic wins a fun run in Manor-quigley, two tourists are released unharmed from a warehouse in Lugran and Gerry Kelly reveals his darkest secret

Sports results – Fermanagh Cowboys have beaten the Crossmaglen Paedos in a game of Hockey, whilst a group of youths have beaten some old people in a game of violence. Also, Linfield have done stuff too.

Snow Patrols Gary Lightbody talks about... Marxism – Soppy song-smith Gary Lightbody performs acoustic renderings of favourite Marxist mantras. Tonight, ‘The Giants Causeway is ours forever’ and ‘Give a Southy Some Celery’

TV3: Spring has sprung:

Hammered! – Saucy Ulster comedy. Finbar’s decision to rent an inflatable castle from the Orange Order Children’s Party Commission because it was cheaper than the other options goes off without a hitch, but when it explodes, killing all his children, he’s left staring at the saved pennies with a forlorn look on his face. Meanwhile, ‘up the road’. Angus is left in a quandary, sorry, I mean, Angus is left in a QUARRY. His body, that is.

Tullamore Housewives – Inspired by hit US show ‘Real Women of South California’ TV3 launch their new reality based TV show about the world of Tullamore Wives (Twilfs) – Tonight, Bernie bakes a cake for the GAA fundraiser, Bridget slips in silage and damages her elbow and Concepta’s son surprises everyone by stealing his father’s legally held shotgun and holding up a Centra

Half Past Seven – Entertaining look at a clock at exactly half past seven

Sing like you’re whinging – Talent show where we forgo the talent and concentrate on the back-stories that make us all cry. Tonight Brian from Galway dazzles us with his show of grief for his dead grandmother before breaking down during a clay pottery demonstration, and a former Christian brothers priest arrives on stage to entertainingly confess some heinous crimes before breaking down backstage in an emotional display of expert juggling

Peig Sayers on... – The legendary Islander is resurrected (Mark Cagney in charity shop women’s clothing and his wife's make-up) to interview some of Irelands most important PUBLIC figures about important issues – Tonight Peig talks to Brian Kennedy about the Buttevant train disaster and probes Enda Kenny about.. Well, actually, she just probes him.

GEE – TV3  presents the Irish version of the (s)hit US show Glee – (might want to delete the ‘s’ there before publishing, LOL – Ed) – Head of Irish Special Olympics Mary Davis is the guest star and immediately finds offence in the performance of the ABBA classic ‘the winner takes it all’ suggesting that everyone should get a prize. Also some shit people sing some shit songs for all the shits out there that like shit TV

Mrs Whites Boys – TV3’s thinly veiled ‘homage’ to RTE’s Mrs Browns boys’ gathers apace in the latest episode entitled ‘It’s all White!’- Barry accidentally leaves chewing gum on the toilet seat leading his mother to get stuck during her morning constitutional. Cue hilarity, and a life changing punch line, ‘I’m stuck on the jacks’

Premiere – Proud to announce that TV3 are the first terrestrial network in the world to show the latest Angela Lansbury movie ‘Tears of my daughter’ – Filmed in 1986 but not given a release until 2008, this taught thriller stars Ted Danson as a man who believes his daughter is the reincarnation of his dead wife, even though his wife is not dead, and he has no daughter. Cue much suspicion from his wife (Angela Lansbury) and his daughter (also played by Angela Lansbury) and Angela Lansbury who is played by both his wife and daughter. (1986, Dir. Fred West. Sepia)

Hammered - The NI comedy is back with a bang. Literally, the entire cast is killed by a car-bomb, left in a car, outside the studio. Which ironically had a strictly no car-bomb policy!

Gary Glitter on.. Two little boys – Singing superstar Gary Glitter tells us why he loves two little boys, the hit song made famous by Rolf Harris

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Occupy Dame Street

RTE news tonight carried a piece about the various ‘Occupy’ protests that are currently happening around the globe. They had footage of London, and particularly, New York, yet they didn’t even mention the Cork or Dublin tent-ins. They told of how the authorities in the UK and US have issued eviction notices and moved protestors on. They never even showed a shot of our Dame Street mini-Butlins. This is a damning, yet fair summary of the success of the Occupy Dame Street movement. It has been a tragic failure and total embarrassment.

In my opinion, protest begins at home. You march against things that affect you. You raise an objection to something that impacts your way of life, your continued existence or that of those closest to you. And in this respect, I’m all for protesting. If the Government banned outright ‘instant noodles’ or ‘Tyskie beer’, I’d be pitch-forking my way down Kildare Street first thing tomorrow. But they haven’t. They have however given loads of cash to the banks, and cut a lot of people’s income to fund it. Nasty, in fairness - I’d nearly get out and walk for that, but then again, my income hasn’t actually been cut. It’s the same as it was before all this started.

And you know, the majority of the Occupy Dame St gang haven’t been affected either. Last time I checked the price of tobacco and second hand knitwear hadn’t exactly risen to record levels. Sure, news of massive hand-outs to bankers and huge pensions to those responsible occasionally has me pulling a disapproving face, but that’s only because some of that money is mine. It’s totally selfish. If it was yours alone, I’d urge them to demand more. And take your house too. But that’s me. 

ODS are fighting for an end to ECB control over the country, which is admirable. But like I always say, when I’m on a bus I prefer a trained bus driver to be behind the wheel, no matter how much of a prick he is. It’s simply a case of tough luck. We voted some people in, they weren’t very good, things went shit and they fumbled around. It happens. We then voted someone else in, things stayed shit and they literally keep slipping in it. Tough luck again. It certainly doesn’t help when our happy camper protesters are shitting into buckets and then drunkenly trying to deposit them into drains along Dame Street. They’re literally just adding to it. 

Of course, they real problem with our Hi-De-Hi Central Bank tourists is that they haven’t lost anything in the first place. Most of them (and I have been observing from the window of Sweeney’s pub btw) haven’t lost jobs, got bogged down by insane mortgages or had to sell off the decking in the first place. They are simply professional hippies. They hug trees, read Russian literature and make love to each other dressed as druids in full moonlight, before nipping off to the nearest Centra to stock up on Cider and Guinness. Then they get the last bus home, leaving their tents unoccupied.  Yeah, they return the following morning full of intent and they bang pots, make banners and masturbate into their beards, but we’d all do too that if it was easy.

Like all this ‘he had to go to Australia, sniffle’ rubbish that we hear all the time, when it’s a well known rites of passage for Irish school leavers to head down under anyway. It means nothing. This is why RTE haven’t been bothered to cover them. They’re not real. They don’t live in our world.

If they did they’d put down their yogurt, cut their hair and go looking for a fucking job.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

TV3 Autumn Schedule 2011

From the ‘beating house’ of a former Magdalene Laundry, TV3 announced their new season in great style. With a heavy emphasis on programmes focusing on the recent horrific clerical abuse scandals, a few eyebrows were raised when the ‘Singing Priest’ was chosen to host the launch. These raised eyebrows soon turned to ‘lowered pants’ when Aidan Cooney arrived with the cans. 

The more reflective than usual schedule was littered with moral touch-points. The importance of community, age respect, and responsible young people’s programming, learning through enjoyment and badly reproduced British TV that was badly produced on British TV in the first place. 

Fancy some breakfast? - Lively morning show presented by Sinead Desmond. In episode one, Sinead meets DIY expert and convicted sex offender Brian O'McLoody who claims to be fully reformed and is now a committed ornithologist. To prove this he demonstrates how to create an inexpensive bird house and feeder from random household items. He also shows us how to build a bird house that not only doubles as a sex chamber with bird feeder abilities, but also as sex chamber for birds that can be made from random household items

Kicking the Habit – Documentary about the brutal assault of a Nun in Clonakilty in 1975. 

Why I love... Apples – Weekly series where we ask famous super-cool celebrities to explain what they love about life. Tonight, super-cool celebrity clones Jedward struggle to come to terms with the concept of fruit

Nuns with Willies – Odd couple Willie Nelson and Willie Thorne come together to spend a month living with the divine sisterhood of Mary Angelo in Ballincrosby. As well as learning the skills, and the dedication required to be a ‘woman of god’, they form an unexpected bond and the basis for a new show ‘I love Willies’, one Nuns emotional response to living with the mega-stars

Body of Christ, Christ what a body – Ex Mr Ireland Jake O’Neill presents a frank and sobering tale of clerical abuse in Ireland. Tonight he meets a victim of Paedophile cleric Malachy O’Frockcock and questions the broader role of society in dealing with abuse, and visits an ex-priest turned fashionista who now designs tank tops and shorts for boys, rather than touching them inappropriately

The Weather – Big fucking clouds

Celebrity erection in a Londis - Reality show featuring some of Ireland’s most iconic celebrities all battling for the honour of sporting the largest erection in a convenience store. Tonight, Amanda Brunker’s gender is questioned after winning by a good 3 inches.

Hammered! -The Six-County laugh-a-thon is back. In today’s slab of grimly funny northern life, peace breaks out. Full time bigot Alistair hugs a catholic in a bakery, whilst ‘’over the wall’, Brendan whistles a traditionally ‘orange’ tune at a bus stop, and gets off with a jovial light beating

Film – Dangerous Relations – Angela Lansbury stars in this VHS conversion about a woman who realises her husband isn’t who he appears to be (she check’s his passport) and so she cuts up all of his ties, leaving him tieless at the national tie convention of America. She also has a wheelchair bound daughter who has a speech impediment.

Late Night TV – a transvestite, who only pops on women’s clothing after midnight, explains why he/she is a late night TV – Sponsored by Flahavans.  Porridge, for transvestites.

Twink and you’ll miss it – High octane footage of Adele King (Twink) going by the camera really really fast. In this episode she speeds along on a pair of a roller-skates down Thomas Street

Fr. Brian Darcy’s ‘late night spook-a-thon’ - Tonight: the classic Romanian horror ‘Haunted Ghost,’ in glorious colour (1946 B&W). In a different take on the traditional poltergeist film, a ghost is terrorised by a ghost. The twist, well we might as well tell you as none of you will be watching - He’s haunted by the ghost of a ghost, but not just any ghost, but the ghost of a ghost who was once haunted by his OWN ghost. Christopher Nolan eat your heart out! Complicated, image heavy but ultimately shit. Followed by the draw for the Rehab lottery

Saint Christopher – Timely memoriam for the visionary director Christopher Nolan, who somehow found himself reading the TV3 listings and ate his own heart out, as suggested. Contributions from Christopher Nolan himself, which nicely adds a complicated twist to the whole thing

Maxi Priest – RTE Broadcasting legend ‘Maxi’ trains to become a priest in this show so she does.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Oh, Áras

Who is Batman’s favourite singer? Why it’s Dana Dana Dana Dana of course. 

Why is she in the news Disgrace?

Well, Dana, the bright-eyed, cute as a button songstress who once won the hearts of all of Europe, is thinking of running for the Áras. Despite having a voice that would melt something really difficult to melt, like concrete, and a gentle, motherly demeanour, Dana also has some hardened moral views on literally, all kinds of everything. She is a rural conservative. She is a died-in-the womb, sorry, wool, Right-winger. Amongst her Righty agenda is her passionate anti-abortion stance, a vocal denouncement of divorce, condemnation of the evils of contraception and many, many appearances on the All-Ireland talent show.

I liked the All-Ireland talent show. That Daithi fella is a ride... but anyway, what’s her agenda?

Her campaign will rightly be based on her strong moral views, but she will also point to her inspiring promotion of culture too. She once launched a pro-life art competition, in which every entry probably had paintings of babies in a bin with a floating, mournful ‘Why?’ above them, and as a judge on the All-Ireland talent show she introduced the nation that a host of marching bands and non-threatening musical acts. According to this site ‘she is a devout Catholic who has used her great talents as a musician to praise the Lord and teach the faith’. She would probably not refer to Daithi as a ride though, more likely say that he’d make a great priest.

Will she be our new toothless, ceremonial-only, overlord?

Well, unlike possibly more famous right-wingers, she actually did conquer Europe once. Her song, ‘All Kinds of everything’ ('Alles Und Noch Viel Mehr' in German) was a worldwide sensation, and her place is history was confirmed. Also, in 2007 she grabbed 15% of the vote, so rule nothing out. David Norris' ill-fated campaign and subsequent withdrawal means we now face a centre-right president at best, or an extremist one at worst. It’s enough to make Daithi O-Se weep into his hake

How do I feel about it?

I tell you now, if she wins, I will smear myself in strawberry conserve (to symbolise the blood of the unborn), tie myself to the O’Connell monument (to symbolise the tight restraints of freedom) and sail naked on a raft down the Liffey to take my chances elsewhere (to symbolise sailing naked down the Liffey)

I like Jam, so wholesome and traditional.

Unfortunately, so do an awful lot of people in this country

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Status Update

There are loads of reasons why I’ve just taken the calmly considered and maturely debated total drunken snap decision to delete my Facebook account. We all know that the vast majority of people who lurk around its seedy, holiday photo filled pages are nothing more than attention whores, sweaty keyboard perverts and/or GAA recruiters with little to do other than one handedly type their way to filthy gratification. The others are merely the trapped. The ones who need its sweet yet sour nectar to conduct reality on any sort of realistic reality based real scale.

I was, until now, trapped in Facebook. And like all of you, I sometimes dreamt of a world where it didn’t exist. Like Ganymede, one of the moons of Jupiter, which almost certainly doesn’t have social networking of any kind.

“So, why not just rid yourself of this weighty conundrum Disgrace”, nobody screams.

Well, hold on. I've had my finger hovering over ‘Delete ‘Facebook’ more times than an Archbishop has ‘Clear Browsing History’. I’ve narkily removed friends, regretted my drunken comments about Pandas and occasionally gone through party snaps of people that wouldn’t stop to check for a pulse if they’d found me in their garden with a pair of binoculars and an asphyxiation device. But I backed off. I hesitated. For some reason, I couldn’t function without my deeply soulless, unfulfilling and sometimes soul battering morning logins. If I didn’t know what the guy with the goatee who I used to work with but had totally forgotten about until we became online ‘friends’ had found that morning in the toilet, I’d be totally useless for the day.

“What did he find?” I’d have troubled myself with, without even knowing that he’d found anything because I wasn’t even on Facebook at all.

A couple of weeks ago I was chatting with one of very best real life friends and I remarked that I was friends with his real life ex, on Facebook. He wasn’t a member, never has been and he told me without embarrassment, that he never would be. We rambled a bit, and he sent me pictures of himself in his underwear etc when he mentioned that he thought she was seeing someone else. He wasn’t sure, and he was probably hoping she wasn’t. But I was sure. And she was. It was all over Facebook. I didn’t tell him, because (A) it would hurt him, and (B) it would probably introduce him to the tragic world of social networking, which in its most useful form is a snooping and stalking tool that quickly turns into an online paranoia machine. He didn’t need to be on it, and was lucky not to be. I deleted her as a friend and didn’t say a word. However, seeing as he reads this, I’m sure he’s now face down in his Weetabix, mumbling something about oblivion.

It’s nothing new.

In the past I’ve removed non-satisfying friends, lingering exes and so-so’s that I’ve worked with but it was always a near fruitless task. I once deleted a girl I worked with who’s only reason for existing seemed to be to pose in a doorway with her latest dress on, in one of her many hilariously titled ‘IT’S ALL ABOUT ME’ photo albums, only to find a friend request from her in my inbox an hour later.  I even stopped posting status updates and would just sporadically pop up a few ‘check-ins’, if only to prove I was still alive and then only if I happened to be near something hilarious and unexpected - Like ‘The Well Woman Clinic’ or, ‘A Job’. This, yet again, made me as fulfilled as a chronic porn addict whose Mickey had just fallen off in the shower. So, I did it.

I ‘deactivated’ my social network Facebook account thingy.

Of course, I’d love to say ‘I deleted it’ permanently or that  I ’Forever removed’ my account, but I did not. I can’t. Nobody can. Facebook says sorry to see you go, and then asks some nonchalant questions as to why you’re leaving, like some sort of subservient hand-beaten wife who’s just relieved you didn’t take the house with you, and it lets you drift off, half knowing you’ll be back anyway. If you ever login again, Facebook will suddenly start making parping noises and drop balloons whilst welcoming you back in a pathetic, almost embarrassing, attempt at repatriation.

‘We’ve been counting down the days until you came back!!!’ It’ll whimper, as it steals your vitals and sells them to Google.

If you don’t attempt to login again it’ll mail you and put on the puppy dog eyes. It’ll say ‘Weeee wissss wuuuu!!! Booooooo’ and/or create a vast terrorist background based on your identity and pass it on to the CIA. It’s that serious folks.

I’m a day into my latest attempt at ridding myself of the worst social scourge since the plague and already I’m seeing the benefits. I rang someone today. By telephone. We talked about stuff and I found out what they did yesterday. I would of course have known what they were doing yesterday quite easily if I still had Facebook, but when someone sexually abuses a dog and writes a bagpipe sonata about it, I prefer to hear about it, first hand.. And as I hung up on Westy, I thanked him for telling me.

Farewell Facebook (until Saturday, probably)

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


Friends, I have discover the scret to everlasting rigidness. With a combination of herbs and a wink from Derk Davis, the international sailing superstar, we have offered to you the wholesome result that combines big happy with emotional revolution. Make your lady lover go 'pop' with our full regime. We give tablet to you, for oral consumptioning, and you go 'woop'. Sending money is easily easy. Euros in envelope can evade strict protocol buy being gently scented with elephant mucks. After 3 months to an 12 yearage, we will dispatch your prize to your very own home, where you live with your penis.

Irish friends, of the emerald, do not wait. You have a chance to become a giant on the street and even pants will not help retain your honour. Draw a pictue of the result, as a tour bus crashes due to your maculine virility. You now have power, and we have money.

Captains, muscular hairdressers and ex cricket umpires have all said 'yes' to our questions, so why don't you do the same positive answering outburst too?

We have the passion and history of giving to the males a future of outward glory. This is your dance too.

Please do not tell the ploice, as they are jealous.

Wang O'Gettigan
C/O Muppy Sam Derivitives

(Disgrace, tired of spam and perhaps ready to return)

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Love and Hake

Daithi O’Se is allegedly Ireland's most eligible bachelor. He ‘presents’ RTE’s afternoon lifestyle tour-de-force ‘Four Live’ with an intense mixture of off-the cuff-banter, wildly ill informed comments and strange gurgling animal noises. He has hosted the Rose of Tralee, is an outspoken judge on the All Ireland Talent Show, and regularly globe-trotts for TG4. He was also the face of Bord Bia's healthy eating fish promotion, where he famously uttered the line 'Hake, so simple, even I can cook it', which apparently had Hakes everywhere going weak at their fishy knees. With such a reputation, National Disgrace couldn't wait to meet the man and ask him a few questions.

Typical Breakfast?

Jaysus, breakfast?? I’ve barely time to shove old Daithi junior into the old Y-fronts before I’m out on the field. When you’re face down in your lucky charms or your FLAHAVANS I tell ya, I'm usually up to the elbows in cow shit getting the auld bainne ready. Then I suppose, seeing as I’m always up for a laugh, it’s back to the house for a hooley!!

If you could be anywhere right now, where would it be?

Ridin’ Clare Byrne bareback around Montrose wearing nothing but one of those county headband things you see at the all-Ireland.

I'm sorry?

Ah, a family show eh? Begog! OK so, sucking diesel at the Ballinasloe turf cutting championships with a mighty big mug of stout in my lamha! Yum Yum Yum.. love the auld black stuff... Rhianna would be my favourite.

What is your comfort food?

I horse down the old Bacon and Cabbage when I’m feeling a bit low. Raw like.

What website do you look at most?

Are you trying to get me into trouble (laughs uncontrollably and nervously deletes the browsing history on his laptop). Aman’t I always surfing the RTE website and upthewhest.com!!! 

How often do you exercise?

I go for a bit of a gallop every morning, just around the field.. 

What do you watch on TV?

You remember ‘Hands’ on Telefis Eireann? Be the Hokey, I’m glued to the TV when it comes on.. I have a pair of hands meself, as Claire Byrne knows, so I have a bit of an auld affinity with it.. I also like that Television X channel.. all the young ones wearing next to nothing and turning the air blue.. be Janey, I lock the sitting room door for that to be sure.. Yeeee Haaaw!

What Irish person do you most admire?

Bibi Baskin and then I suppose me auld chara Dustin. I tell ya, I’d rather have that Turkey running the Dail than the clowns in charge now. What? ha ha ha ha ha ha ... There’s a very good reason we don’t eat clowns on Christmas Day you know. Can you imagine? Bernie, this dinner tastes a bit ‘funny’... ha ha.. you can have that one... UP THE WHEST!!

What Irish person do you least admire?

Larry Murphy, the convicted Rapist.. not his biggest fan to be honest. I tell ya, he wouldn’t lasht a shecond down the Whest.. And Bono.. or Oh-No as I like to call him... Terrible bore. He should stick to the tunes and drop all that save the blind trees stuff.

How punctual are you?

I’m always where I need to be, when I need to be!! You could set your clock by me in fact, shure amant I here now and all!

What word or phrase do you overuse?

Get up the yard/Lovely Hurling/You’re a fine looking horse.

What is your favourite shop?

McGettigans general stores in Abbeymara. If it’s a plaster for an auld cut or just a loaf of bread for the sambos, good old Ying Wang will have it. A real old traditional Irish shop and shadly, one of the lasht around... Ying Wang if you’re listening, ‘half a pound of Kerrymaid!’ YE MAD THING!

What was the last text you sent?

‘Giddy Up’ to Claire Byrne.

What radio station do you listen to?

Radio Na Gaeltachta.. And Spin when I’m up with the BIG SCHMOKE and fancy a bit of an auld shuffle.

Are you good with credit cards?

I’m BRUTAL TO BE HONEST. Went wild at Christmas on the EBAY and the old AMAZON and bought all sorts of yokes for the kids and the like.. Give me a mattress and a wad of manky auld punts any day!!

What was your best holiday?

Trabolgan, hands down, 1973.. I made shite out of the pitch and putt course though, golfing with a hurley isn’t as easy as it looks!

How long does it take you to get ready

I’m always ready.. As my old pal Fr Seery used to say, ‘always wear your Wellies to bed Daithi, I like you in them’. Great advice and now I hop up every morning ready to take on the world, rain shleet or snow.

What is your biggest regret?

Not kissing Brenda Shaughnessy at the school dishco back in 1986.. I believe she got hit by a car a few weeks later on the Manorberry road, just outside Athy. A Datsun Cherry it was too.

What can you not live without?

My heart and lungs and brain. I could probably do without the auld legs and arms, but I’d be fairly down about it to be honest, and not just literally!! 

When did you last use public transport?

I hitched a ride on Skuller Delaneys horse and cart last Wednesday on me way to mass.

What do you worry about?

Blight, a return to the old days of British rule, the collapse of the dome in Tralee and resulting untimely death of all the Roses, and of course the auld electric bills.. It’s fierce dear and all that.. I remember when it cosht nothin, back before electricity!

Who did you last vote for?

Mary Byrne on the X-Factor. Horsh of a woman.. but be jaysus the tits on her!!

What would you do if you won the Lotto?

I’d go down the road to O’Mearas and buy a round for the locals and then I’d build a giant statue of my Mickey on the M6 outside Galway.

What time do you go to bed at?

About 3am, and then afterwards, I’ll go home!! Go on ye chancer eh!! Fancy a bit yourself do ye?