Do you remember the diagram from Junior Cert geography for precipitation? The one with the smiley cloud that rains on the mountain and it runs down and evaporates and repeats the cycle? That's the Irish in London. We get pissed on in Dublin until Michael O'Leary sucks us up and pours us into the pint glass that is London and eventually we drip home for a few days until it repeats itself. It's weird.



I find it funny that even after all the humalaboo about Autotune in the X Factor, they still use it for the robot that is Cheryl Cole. Shameless tripe out of her tonight anyway. Its even funnier that I'm writing about the X Factor. In my defence, I've been sick for two days and someone did sing Led Zeppelin (appallingly) but I can't deny I've been sucked into Cowell's malevolent grasp of all that is wrong with the music industry. They've attempted to make all nice with the public this year and have "different" acts. Mary B's on a mission to reclaim a bit of Irish dignity from the newly skeletal Louis Walsh but she's struggling to keep her wibbley chin up it seems. In fairness, he actually knows something about music unlike the crispy wafer that sits beside him.

It's not that I hate ALL the acts though. Byrno does have a serious set of lungs on her and poor little Cher(yl) Lloyd has a decent bit of sass. My only real gripe outside the judges is the producer's little mistakes. I mean, how hard is it to spell Page and Tracy really?

In the end, we all know its a big fix yadda yadda yadda so I'm calling One Direction to win. Get your money on now, expect the big push as Simon begins to fight for his one act (yes, one act) and everyone realises how much they definitely already totally was like only just saying to their mate the other day how much they knew they wanted a new boyband to love/be shoved down their throats. You heard it here first...



Found a bit of paper that I had scribbled some things on whilst on a train recently. That's right, live and uncensored, my innermost thoughts...

I definitely predicted the recession.

Deranged is an incredibly evocative word. I immediately picture a man throwing squirrels.

Train-racing?

House Parties are totally the new Eurovision Song Contest.

An Post is grossly underappreciated.

Vegans are surprisingly full of energy when full of Class A drugs.

What. The. Fuck. Back to my meandering anyway. I'm planning on doing a bit more of this so called writing soon. Join me some time when I'll be interviewing myself about potentially writing my own memoirs among other topics.

Here's a picture of a chair that I took.