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Archive for March, 2010

They say it’s a fine line between genius and madness and I reckon Behan made a good attempt at finding the middle ground.

Now here’s a good one; I have few heros (or, as Public Enemy said,  “Most of my heroes don’t appear on no stamps,”) but I unashamedly pronounce Brendan Behan one of mine. Never one to be shy, he announced freely in the media that he was an unavowed and unabashed communist. Now, I suppose this was likely to draw some deal of attention to him considering the second Red Scare was in full swing in 1957. What you wouldn’t expect is for him to be bugged by MI5. But bugged he was, as records released today show and I’d love to hear some of the recordings as the man himself was pronounced as “A little mad, or a little drunk” by the officer investigating the case. We, of course, know that he was a good dollop of both.

Mona Lisa

An Fear féin

It was a call to Barbara Niven, editor of Communist Party of Great Britain’s paper, the Daily Worker that attracted MI5 attention. The MI5 officer consistently misspells Behan’s Christian name as Brandon in the transcripts.

“He said he had his mother with him. Did Barbara understand him? Barbara said she did not understand him. Brandon said he was going to give a subscription to the Daily (Worker) for a year.”

“Barbara said that was wonderful. Brandon said he understood that canvassing was very bad. Brandon said could he call around to see her. Barbara said she was very busy as she was writing something which had to be finished by that evening.

“Brandon said he wanted to give the money to her himself and he wanted to see her because he was a first-class man and no one would call for him. Not even his own class would talk to him, he said,” the officer wrote.

“He said he had got the embassy working for him. He hoped that they would get him a plane.”

“He wanted to go home to Ireland where he lived. His brother Brian had dragged his name in the mud by his interview in the Daily Express,” the officer wrote, adding, “I assumed Brandon was either a little mad, or drunk.”

As well as songwriters and storytellers, the Behan clan were always great painters and signwriters.

I can only imagine a high paid civil servant sitting in a top-secret office somewhere in London trying to decypher the conversation; was it some form of uncracked code? Who is “mother“? And what of this “embassy“? I wonder how long it took them to realise the man was just twisted and leary. They say its a fine line between genius and madness and I reckon Behan made a good attempt at finding the middle ground. And I doubt many will disagree.

(Míle buíochas le mo dheartháir Liam chun fáil airteagal seo.)

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A trip to Saint Patricks Athletic F.C (Inchicore) versus Galway United F.C, as League of Ireland football returns to Dublin for a new season

Every second week before the Euro

Nice to be back really.

I remember as a child being taken to see Saint Patricks Athletic in a stadium you could only describe as electric. The camac standing area directly opposite the stand would be a red, white and yellow explosion of colour, and a flare in the shed and deafening roar awaited that first goal in that game. The 90s were brilliant times for the domestic game, not just in Inchicore but on the Northside too, were local football could draw in considerable crowds and at least a handful of your classmates got it. Unlike the ‘Who are yis’ in the class we had chosen our teams purely on the grounds of geography and as such were all (literally) singing from the one sheet. We, quite literally, meant we. Us and our next door neighbours.

Still, a hard rain fell on the League of Ireland. A really hard rain. A flood even. The old man would still take us to home matches and car trips to Drogheda, north of the liffey and suburbs of Wicklow, but the religious nature of going stopped. You go from missing a few games to missing half a season. I’m incredibly grateful there’s a younger Fallon to catch the bug and get us back down.

Anyway, to say Saint Patricks Athletic had a woeful season last year would be an understatement on par with ‘the economy is looking a bit shakey’.

Back from under the stairs for a new season

Getting into the ground a bit late I hear the sound of a trumpet. A fucking trumpet. A quick glance and it’s coming from the Galway United away supporters. A small but loyal band of followers, and mainly youngsters, you can take it some of these lads left the schoolyard a bit early to travel up, just as some of the young lads down the far end of the crowd would for a trip to Cork or Belfast. There’s a passion there that doesn’t come across well on the telly.

“United, we love you, we love you…
and where you go we’ll follow, we’ll follow, we’ll follow….”

I’m too busy looking at the one man trumpet show to see the build up to the goal that puts Pats in the lead. Then it happens. The home support lights up.

I spot four good sized large tifo flags, a flare in the middle of it, and a few hundred fans going mad like Pats had won the league, not just scored the first goal of their first League match.

It’s not until half-time rolls around that you realise what a community thing the league is in Ireland. I’ve heard and seen the same at Dalymount, Turners Cross, that kip in Drumcondra and other stadiums. Your man who is emigrating to America next Monday (“No sorry folks, it’s Tuesday. He’s leaving on Tuesday. Good luck to him”) gets a mention over the P.A, the Palmerstown and Clondalkin under 12s come on the pitch and have a kick around, a bucket goes around for the local old folks and whatever else. The club is at the heart of the community, and the youngsters scoffing the (bloody awful) hotdogs into themselves now will hopefully be the ones bringing their kids here down the line.

Coming soon to a Dublin shed near you.

When the whistle goes, and Pats take the 2 goals and 3 points away from this one, the shed (where the away support are based) erupts into one last defiant chant: “United! United!”

They’ve travelled across the country for this. When the matches fall that way, a similar sized band will do the same in reverse. I feel terrible for falling out of the habit, but after tonight- I reckon I’m hooked again. The odd trip down last year isn’t good enough, you’d wonder why you’d miss a game….

Bohemian F .C (Phibsboro) fans make a point about corporate football to Red Bull Salzburg

Will the game grow in this city? I don’t know to be honest. There’s no way I can see a return to the glory days, but at the same time shenanigans on the otherside of the pond have shown British football up as the emotional wasteland that it is.

You can Love United, Hate Glazer as much as you want, but you’ll never love United in the way that lad on the trumpet loves United.

The United he shares a home with.

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Land League banner in The Longstone

One of our stops on the last pubcrawl (the review is yet to be finished- this weekend hopefully!) was The Longstone pub in Townsend Street. I won’t say too much about the place apart from the fact that we liked it and were taken aback by the decor; for the walls were adorned with what look like original Union banners dating from the late 19th Century. One that caught our attention was the one above, a banner with the words “Kinlough,” “Down With Landlordism,” “Union is Strength” and “Branch in League” painted on it, along with a picture of Michael Davitt. Now my knowledge of the Land League isn’t the best but I do know that the bottom part of Michael Davitts right arm was amputated at a young age after he got it caught in a cog wheel while working in a cotton mill, yet here he is in his resplendant glory with both arms intact! (Although it took me until I got home and looked at the pictures closely to realise that- the paint is very faint, and therefore could well depict Charles Stewart Parnell!)

Anyways. A little known fact about Davitt is he was invited to lay the centre turf at Celtic Park at the clubs inauguration in 1888. Thieves sneaked in that night and stole the very sod he lay, giving inspiration to the poem that begins:

“The curse of Cromwell blast the hand that stole the sod that Michael cut; May all his praties turn to sand – the crawling, thieving scut.”

Old man, old banner.

We mused how the banners got there and whether they were original or not. Now I was under the impression that this place had been in the hands of the same family for generations but apparently not- The Longstone, though it looks as if it’s been there forever, has changed hand a few times over the last couple of decades. The lady behind the bar was unable to shed any light on the situation, other than saying she always believed them to be originals.

Amalgamated Society of Tailors

We’d love to get a history of these banners, I’ll be mailing the folks from the Longstone anyways and will keep people posted about anything I hear. Alternatively, if anyone knows anything about them, drop us a line on here!

The Davitt banner in.. full.

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I’ve been in to Saint Patrick’s Institution and Mountjoy Jail over the last few days with Maser (amazing Dublin graffitti artist) and Johnny Moy (legendary dublin DJ), we were sussing out walls that Maser can spraypaint some of my lyrics on in there, some positive lines for the inmates. I saw where Kevin Barry was hanged and got to hit the old triangle……Maser’s doing workshops and paintings in both places and is getting prisoners to help him with these pieces teaching them some of his skills as he goes along and he’ll probably get some lines off the inmates aswell to spraypaint around the place. This is all part of a project that meself and Maser and Johnny are working on called ‘They Are Us’ (details and pictures will be up on the website soon about it)

-From DamienDempsey.com

An interesting one this. We still get plenty of hits from people confused about that great Maser piece down by Busaras on The Good Bits (Damien Dempsey gives me HOPE) and if you follow the blog you’ll know I’m a massive fan of Damien, from the days of They Don’t Teach This Shit In School to his current buzz.

I take any and every chance to see Dempsey live – from a pisser of a day in Farmleigh to in his element bringing down the house at the Civic Centre in Tallaght- he has yet to dissapoint me in a live setting. His fan base, mainly young, sing every line back to him with a passion you wouldn’t dare question.

Anyway, the above mentioned project between Maser and Damien sounds fascinating to me. Damien notes on his website that this concert will hopefully “raise money for the materials maser will need for his pieces around the city” so for that alone I think it is worth attending. I still smile everytime I pass that piece on The Good Bits.

Damien actually does give me hope for this city and the youth of it.

Damien Dempsey
March 12th
The Good Bits
7:30PM
Tickets: 15e

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The Irish Women Workers Union. Liberty Hall.

Over the last couple of years, it’s been fantastic to see International Womens Day marked properly in Dublin. While it seems there is a wide range of events planned this year to mark the occasion, ranging from a showing of the fantastic I Was A Teenage Feminist as part of the (very much free) Progressive Film Club to the ever-popular and highly regarded Feminist Walking Tour hosted by Choice Ireland, the RAG collective and the Lashback collective (and more on that below), the event that’s grabbed my attention is undoubtedly the ‘Take Back The Night’ march planned for Tuesday night.

Event Poster

The march/vigil will meet at 7pm on Tuesday at the front square of the University.

Take Back the Night (also known as Reclaim the Night) is an internationally-held march and vigil that is organised with the purpose of unifying women, men, and children in awareness of sexual violence and rape. TBTN is about taking a stand against violence and making the night safe for everyone.

The event at Trinity is one part of many events being organised in honour of International Women’s Day. It will include speakers from the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre, One in Four, an Irish based support service for women and men who have experienced sexual abuse/violence, and Amnesty International, an international human rights organisation.

As a protest and indeed direct action against sexual assault and rape, Take Back The Night marches have occured all over the world in cities, towns and Universities.

As for the Choice Ireland/RAG/Lashback walking tour, I have to confess to not getting along to either of the previous Feminist Walking Tours of Dublin, despite hearing nothing but praise for both tours. Dublin has a tremendous social history with so many female figures neglected from popular history, but none the less inspiring. From the women who led the anti-apartheid actions at Dunnes Stores to the women of the Labour and Republican movements, there is a hidden history just below the surface. Hopefully the walking tour will help fill in some of the blanks for those who attend!

I should stress these are but two events occuring to mark the day and the week around it. Be sure to look around for more events, for example by checking the event guide on Indymedia.

Choice Ireland/Rag/Lashback Feminist Walking Tour
This Sunday, 1 pm.
Meet at the Central Bank , Dame Street.


Take Back The Night Vigil
Next Tuesday, 7PM
Front Square of TCD

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Before Dublin’s Feminist Walking Tour on Sunday (see dfallon’s post above for more information), why not head down to the Spire at midday to hear Eamonn Campbell and others sing in honour of ‘Mad Mary’, the beloved Dublin street character who danced on O’Connell Street from the late 1970s to 2002. Due to a deteriorating eyesight Mary has had to hang up her dancing shoes and move back into her family home.

A facebook page called ‘WHO REMEMBERS THE WOMAN THAT DANCED ON O CONNELL ST BESIDE THE ANNA LIVIA’ has already attracted over 14,000 fans. The growth of the page and the flood of comments wishing her well has also prompted articles in the Irish Daily Mail and The Star in recent days. Though she might have been known for her conservative catholic views, no one can deny her importance in the social history of the capital.

Mad Mary, the dancing woman of O'Connell Street.

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A classic Dublin new wave single from a band called Spies (1978 – 80) from Howth.

Joey Barry, the lead singer, was later in the Thee Amazing Colossal Men. The guitarist, Gerry Leonard, later went on to become David Bowie’s musical director and lead guitar player.

I’ve recently uploaded the A side ‘Thinking About The Sun’ from their first and only single.

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Right… Before we get anyone on mumbling about “waste of tax payers money… etc,” we really didn’t expect what happened to happen… The following is the work of DMcHugh, and is a quick anecdote about what happened last Friday. My additions are in italics!

Yes, a fire engine just like this

Feet are shit. They’re slow, they’re tender and if they pick up even a slight injury and then you’re stranded; marooned. Which is why I love my bike. Not in the ostentatious, fixed gear and no brakes way, but as an indispensable part of my life. So when I don’t have my bike, because of puncture or more serious damage, I’m pretty upset. But I wouldn’t call it an emergency. And I definitely wouldn’t expect anyone else to to call it that either. But that’s what happened on Friday night…

It was a crap lock. A 30 euro one I got because it looked tough and was cheaper than most. But like so many other locks, the real catch is the lock itself- does it jam, does it twist, does it break the key off? Which is exactly what happened. A few beers and a night in the cold left my patience thin and the metal sluggish. hXci’s patience was
thinner still and he took the keys off me, to loose the bloody thing. The keys came back but the lock stayed put, half the key stuck in there, and my bike was left to wait out the cold night on its own.

Before and after work, we plied it with pliers and pared away two hacksaw blades, transforming them into toothless breadknives, but it was stubborn, not moved by clumsy grabs or sharp words. A tip from Google Buzz (thanks Andrew!) had suggested the fire brigade, and I called them up. They didn’t just cut it for me, (we expected one man in a jeep to show up with a pair of boltcutters;) they sent a whole bloody fire-engine along, flashing siren and stocked with four big fellas and all manners of equipment. They cut the thing there and then, hopped back into the wagon and chased off into the sunset, off to do proper fireman work, or maybe just back to the station for a cup of tea.

So hot tip, buy a proper lock, with a solid mechanism and strong keys. And should the worst happen anyway, you can ring the fire department office to come and rescue you, if you can live with the embarassment and the joke (I-hope-it’s-a-joke-) 500 yos call out charge.

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By now, I’m presuming most of you in the world of blogging have stumbled upon the amazing, cringe worthy, “this has to be fake” world of Cork family showband Crystal Swing. If not, have a listen:

Their overnight internet stardom has already been picked up by The Irish Times , The Irish Independent, Newstalk, 98 FM and our friends at Dublin Opinion.

Capel Street’s Panti Bar have already uploaded their (drag) cover version.

According to their official website, an appearance on The Late Late Show in the near future is planned. The Crystal Swing for Eurovision Facebook page has already attracted a couple of hundred fans.

(Rumours that dfallon has found Dervla Burke’s personal Facebook page have not been confirmed yet.)

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Edit: Here is the translation.

A 1902 election leaflet for James Connolly, Wood Quay ward

Serious praise is due to Tomás O’Riordan and all involved with the University College Cork MultiText Project in Irish History , which has become an online home to many rare Irish historical photos and texts from the revolutionary years, ranging from characters like Jim Larkin and James Connolly to WB Yeats and Hanna Sheehy Skeffington.

The above find is undoubtedly one of my own personal favourites.

Some great insight into the election of 1902 can be found in Samuel Levenson’s fantastic biography of Connolly.

“As usual, Connolly’s campaign consisted for the most part of open air meetings, his favourite location being in New Street. The support of the Trades Council did not do much to make Connolly respectable, he recieved the usual amount of vilification. Sermons were preached in which he was termed an anti-Christ, and Catholics were forbidden to vote for him under pain of excommunication. It was charged that his children attended Catholic school only to camouflage his own beliefs”

Connolly was one of three Irish Socialist Republican Party candidates. None of the three managed to get elected on the day, with the other two candidates losing by decisive majorities. Connolly ultimately polled 431 votes, while the winning candidate achieved 1,424 votes.

An address made by Connolly “to the electors” and “fellow workers” of Wood Quay can be read online here

“…remember how the paid canvassers of the capitalist candidate – hired slanderers – gave a different account of Mr. Connolly to every section of the electors. How they said to the Catholics that he was an Orangeman, to the Protestants that he was a Fenian, to the Jews that he was an anti-Semite, to others that he was a Jew, to the labourers that he was a journalist on the make, and to the tradesmen and professional classes that he was an ignorant labourer; that he was born in Belfast, Derry, England, Scotland and Italy, according to the person the canvasser was talking to”

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