Things To Do In England When You're Dead

I'm currently rumbling with the Irish health system. Following the day in KIlkenny I woke up with an elbow swollen up like a tennis ball, something I blamed on the many car scrapes the day before, but which I now suspect was some sort of bed bug as I was enjoying thier being an empty room in the house (Sleeping by myself for the first time in three months, luxury).

In Ireland you have the pay an incredible 50 Euro to see a GP, money I just don't have so I just asked a pharmaicist, one of whom said I had gout, another said a mere infection which required me to burst said swelling and squeeze the pus out. Luckily I couldn't find a pin that night as I finally gave into going the doctors as my hand had swollen to Jerremy Beadle proportions. Turns out I have Cellulitis, an infection yes, but defintly one you don't pop.

I got what i could out of the doctor and was ready to hand over my 50 when I had a piece of good news, it was only 40 Euro, which made me feel slightly better. But then more good news, upon producing my passport and playing confussed forigenier I got away for free, I was even told my perscription would be free! I then lost a 50 Euro note on the way to pick up my medicine, then told I could only get free treatment with my National Isurance Card, a card which I have never been asked to produce in my life and consequently did not have on my person (Or possession at all for that matter).

Bloody karma, this is like the time I lost a camera robbing pete in the Wicklow Mountains, so damn tedious and yet typical. I did however get the perscrption for free by going to a different chemist, and now I have a week of work, on state benifits, as I eat Pringles and convelence.

For some reason I went to Kilkenny on Wednesday, a friends idea, an random one at that as I had no idea what was there other than Irelands closest drink to a nice pint of bitter (And it still isn't that nice). Saw some castle and a graveyard but other than that there isn't much more to do in Kilkenny so we asked Tourist Information for inspiration and they told us to go out to Inistigoe, a picturesque village and view point.

For the benifit of those ever recommended to go to Inistigoe, don't. We didn't even stop, as soon as we had even slowed down a somewhat demented looking local started shouting at us through the window of the car, and the only thin in sight was two pubs. You'd think it would be ideal, but it's no, so on we went to New Ross.

New Ross is an odd town, we only went there for some food and I had one of those wonderful kebab experience where they prepare it for you out of site and pass it to you wrapped, yet they assure you that it was prepared exactly how you where wanting it to be, psychic people in New Ross.

The true adventure of the weekend was abusing the rental car, which luckily we paid the 1o Euro insurance for. My downfall when driving was being unable to master the motor co-ordination skills to keep the car in motion while also giving due attention to signs and other motorists. This time I was the attention man and my American friend drove. Over the course of 24 hours we managed:

• Three emergency stops
• Four counts of driving on the wrong side of the road
• Never indicated on a round about
• Knocked out someones rear lights in New Ross
• Scrapped the front og the car when leaving a parking space
• Scuffed up a hubcap
• Four counts of hitting the kerb

It was perhaps more dangerous than the time in Germany I was ran to the offy by a drunk kid without a liscence, but damn it was good fun!


Also learnt that car rental in Dublin is expensive, at least 100 Euro, and more if insidethe city centre, plus a 50 Euro petrol deposit. We used Budget and seemed to have secured a good deal, especially concidering the damage done to out little car

Super Furry Animals, refuse to let Coke Cola use a song of thiers, despite being offered $1,000,000.

Jack White, jumps at the oppertunity.


Who needs the money more? More importantly, who's the better band...

I went the Natural History Museum in Dublin and I learnt a very important lessons, Sun Fish are much bigger than I previously thought, about eight foot compared to say, one or two. I also discovered starfish make me squirmish, basking sharks donąt preserve very well, and I saw some Kakapos, which delighted and facinated me.

Its a great museum, its free, so I recommend checking it out

I've neglected the blog in an epic way, the last two posts should be ignored, as clearly implied by their quality.

Okay, the last week was my birthday, took a trip to Liverpool where I was forced to attempt a yard of ale in The Ship and Miter, who have the finest selection of imported beers in the Homeland. I managed to down it in six...

After that the next round of celebrations where in Dublin. A friend took me the cinema where for the first time ever I walked out of a movie, The Devils Rejects (And I sat through Jurassic Park 2 and Batman Forever). Happier times commenced in The Bleeding Horse and The Barge, where I succeeded in planting a small explosive in a friends cigar. How I love it when a plan comes together... Also got far too drunk in Mezz, which had a rubbish Blues band, and I learnt to avoid the Stout Sampler in The Porterhouse.

Monday was a pleasant trip to Sandymount Beach, which prompted much complaints in my Scouce crew who had the audacity to complain about the beech smelling and saying the festering power plant impaired the skyline...

This did lead to the most important discovery in recent years of the dynamic of the friendship between me and my posse. Weąve always been a bit... argumentative, after all these are like a gang of kids who need every decision made for them and double checked, but we finally found what makes us get along, a proverbial Fifth Beatle of our group, alcohol!

After misadventuring around the beach we went the best Indie club Iąve found thus far in Dublin, Wheelans. Man, it didn'ąt even take a whole pint to get us back on best buddy terms, which is a worrying prospect.



And a final tedious insight, I leant to never go for Mexican food in Dublin as itąs all rubbish, especially Acapulco on George Street, itłs shite.

Updates are becoming few and farbetween, not that Ive not ben keeping myself busy.

I was at George Clintons 64th birthday party, and not only got some cake, but sang a backing vocal...

Went to the the fantasic Irish Musem to see the crackin exhibition on Ernest Shekelton.....

Worked all Bank Holiday Weekend.....


But its more about what you learn! Im quickly seeing how Irish news works for example, by taking a terrible event, such as the 7/7 attatcks on London and only telling people how many Irish people where hurt. One headline in The Herald told the tale of an Irish man in London hit by dbris fo, the bus bomb, less was mentioned on the actual fatalities


The Shakelton exhibition also had typical traits, such as reminding us that Shakeelton was born in Ireland, despite the fact the man is just as classic an English man as George Orwell. Theyll claim him as thier own however, like thy do with Francis Bacon, bu extend this logic to the fact that Bono and Shane McGowan where born in England nd the local populus becomes irrate (As people tend to do when theyre wrong). The exhibition also tells how some of the crew where Irish, including one that went on the final rescue mission, and also mentions how many of the team nrecieevedd the polar mdal for thier advenues. It fails to menton that one of the Irish crew members was denied the medal by his leader because the big ponce fainted over a year into hte tale and just prior the fi nal push of having the cross an unmapped mountain range in fierce conditions with the screws from your now deconstructed boat being tthe only source of traction in your footware as you try and find a remote whaling plant. The pansy