Luvvies

Posted on Saturday, November 25, 2006

A few years ago, going back a bit now, myself and Wrinkly Paddy had a sort of failed career writing bad fiction. Hey, don’t knock it. We were happy and it kept us off the streets, so you know, hey, fuck off and let me alone. Ok?

Anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to tell you.

One time we entered an RTE competition for radio drama. What the fuck was that called? The Seamus Mac Hengist-Horsa award? Nah! The Festy Flinge-Smallbore Plate? Mmmmm. The Inplensttremblontruom Blistered Mickey Continuum Medal? Possibly.

N’yaaaahh! Wrinkly Paddy would probably remember, and if he calls me, I’ll let you know. Anyhow, we came third, cos we were shite, though lack of talent has never appeared to be an obstacle to getting on RTE. Maybe it was because we didn’t come from south Dublin? Who can tell?

There was free drink at the reception to tell the rest of us that we were shite, and that was good. I was glad of the free drink, as was Paddy. We drank most of the free drink, as it happens, and we won some sort of course in radio drama at RTE, which was also interesting.

Anyhow, in the course of our hoovering up the last of the free liquor, I fell into the company of some over-paid RTE spongers- sorry, creative executives. And they were with a chap I vaguely recognised as an actor. Donal something-or-other. It was the priest from the thing Miley was in, what the fuck was it called? Glenroe! Glenroe! That was it! (Sorry. I was up with the Bullet and Blackbeard as part of our Western season, watching For a Few Dollars More, and I had a couple of shots. Sorry). Anyway, Glenroe, that was it.

The well-paid creative executive said to me, Bock, have you met this chap before? And of course I said, certainly!

The priest from Glenroe swelled with pride, not to mention hubris, and held out his hand.

Pleased to meet you, I said. Aren’t you Father Sheehy?

I don’t recall having any further success with RTE drama competitions.