30 October 1997 Edition
Television: Ardoyne for the Park
By Sean O'Donaile
Word has it that the Ardoyne Fleadh is being switched to Aras an Uachtaran next year and the Kickhams are relocating their pitch to the front lawn. Sean McIlkenny is setting up a new Cumann in the Phoenix Park and Martin Meehan is going to be the next Taoiseach.
Mary McAleese's victory would be, in the eyes of one radio commentator, ``...a symbol of the resurgence of pride and culture among Northern nationalists''.
This didn't stop the last debate, Prime Time, RTE 1 (Tuesday), from being in the words of Emily O'Reilly, ``..dreadful and utterly boring..'' Very few issues were discussed during the campaign with the only topic of note being Mary McAleese's ``connections'' and, despite the Dublin media's best efforts, the rebuttal of this intolerance by the Southern electorate. Adi Roche and Mary Banotti discussed the merits of cardboard posters on The Nine O'Clock News while eight people died in the inner city of heroin overdoses over a 7 day period..
As on all the other Presidential debates Mary Banotti appeared jittery on Prime Time and John Brutal's endorsement did her no favours. On the final radio debate on The Pat Kenny Show, Don Mullan, author of `Eyewitness Bloody Sunday', received a very hazy and waffly answer from Dana on the question of a British apology and a new tribunal.
Throughout the campaign McAleese has appeared by far the most assured and wins hands down on image alone. See you at the Fleadh!
``Bless Me Father, it's been 22 years since my last confession..'' God knows I needed it after returning from An Oireachtas, and the impromptu Failte Arais of the editor of An Glór Gafa, Micheál Mac Giolla GunRunner. Cahal Daly's appearance on The Vincent Browne Show put paid to that. His stance on women in the church is appalling and their role seems to be similar to that of women in the UUP - that is, making the sandwiches.
Would You Believe, RTE 1 (Sunday), was a welcome relief from this, as it featured the `modern bishop' Willie Walsh of Killaloe, who doesn't wear a burst football on his head.
His place was always ensured in Clare hearts after a lifetime involvement with hurling, but recent statements including welcoming travellers to his front lawn have incurred the wrath of local councillors and Rome.
In contrast to `the whistling bishop' he regrets that the progressive Second Vatican Council wasn't enforced and can see why young people are falling away from the church. In 1955 23 out of a class of 56 went to the priesthood. In 1997 one out of a class of 200 did likewise. Yet Walsh is ``..not sorry to see this power taken away.. ...as the church is about service..''
A lot of what he said was gobbledy-gook to us heathens, although he admitted ``..the sinfulness of the church..'' in relation to clerical sex abuse. It's quite obvious his honesty is being restrained by the conservative claws of Rome and it'll be interesting to witness his style in ten years time.
One sure way of getting young people back to the church is by putting on more episodes of Fr Ted, a Channel 4 production which is currently doing a re-run on Sunday nights on Network Two on Sunday nights. What can one say about the plot except it's nonsense, some people think it's vulgar and over-the-top and if the actors were British we'd all be complaining about Irish stereo types.
Fr Ted is a vain priest whose attempts to bed an intellectual novelist are thwarted by a flock of nuns (nuns!!), dumb ass Fr Dougal, who doesn't believe in God and Fr Jack who spends his days drinking meths and uttering ``Feck, hairy arses and drink!''. Still the next time you miss Mass, catch Fr Ted!
If you're looking for that hearty breakfast to set you up for the day you should have tuned in to Two Fat Ladies, BBC 2, Mondays. They might look like bishops, but travel by motorbike and sidecar, and tell tales about their sisters-in-law while they cook up strange dishes.
They spent the latest episode in a local vicarage, belonging to The Black Sheep brewery in North Yorkshire. They swopped muesli for some griddle corncakes with rashers and syrup. Incidentally, a griddle is a Victorian usurpation of the Scottish `girdle' or frying pan. This was followed by devilled kidneys, which resembled a dish Hannibal Lector might indulge in.
This was followed in turn by a visit to a Kipper shop in Whitby, where we were treated to some ``luvlee'' smoked kippers.
Back to the Vicarage then for Chilli Con Carne, lentils and Onions and heuvos rancheros, all washed down with a pint of Black Sheep Ale. Unless you're a Sumo wrestler or a bishop you won't have the inclination to indulge in any of the above first thing in the morning.
I'm sticking to my Belfast Baps and some Ardoyne lager for the Park!
Word has it that the Ardoyne Fleadh is being switched to Aras an Uachtaran next year and the Kickhams are relocating their pitch to the front lawn. Sean McIlkenny is setting up a new Cumann in the Phoenix Park and Martin Meehan is going to be the next Taoiseach.
Mary McAleese's victory would be, in the eyes of one radio commentator, ``...a symbol of the resurgence of pride and culture among Northern nationalists''.
This didn't stop the last debate, Prime Time, RTE 1 (Tuesday), from being in the words of Emily O'Reilly, ``..dreadful and utterly boring..'' Very few issues were discussed during the campaign with the only topic of note being Mary McAleese's ``connections'' and, despite the Dublin media's best efforts, the rebuttal of this intolerance by the Southern electorate. Adi Roche and Mary Banotti discussed the merits of cardboard posters on The Nine O'Clock News while eight people died in the inner city of heroin overdoses over a 7 day period..
As on all the other Presidential debates Mary Banotti appeared jittery on Prime Time and John Brutal's endorsement did her no favours. On the final radio debate on The Pat Kenny Show, Don Mullan, author of `Eyewitness Bloody Sunday', received a very hazy and waffly answer from Dana on the question of a British apology and a new tribunal.
Throughout the campaign McAleese has appeared by far the most assured and wins hands down on image alone. See you at the Fleadh!
``Bless Me Father, it's been 22 years since my last confession..'' God knows I needed it after returning from An Oireachtas, and the impromptu Failte Arais of the editor of An Glór Gafa, Micheál Mac Giolla GunRunner. Cahal Daly's appearance on The Vincent Browne Show put paid to that. His stance on women in the church is appalling and their role seems to be similar to that of women in the UUP - that is, making the sandwiches.
Would You Believe, RTE 1 (Sunday), was a welcome relief from this, as it featured the `modern bishop' Willie Walsh of Killaloe, who doesn't wear a burst football on his head.
His place was always ensured in Clare hearts after a lifetime involvement with hurling, but recent statements including welcoming travellers to his front lawn have incurred the wrath of local councillors and Rome.
In contrast to `the whistling bishop' he regrets that the progressive Second Vatican Council wasn't enforced and can see why young people are falling away from the church. In 1955 23 out of a class of 56 went to the priesthood. In 1997 one out of a class of 200 did likewise. Yet Walsh is ``..not sorry to see this power taken away.. ...as the church is about service..''
A lot of what he said was gobbledy-gook to us heathens, although he admitted ``..the sinfulness of the church..'' in relation to clerical sex abuse. It's quite obvious his honesty is being restrained by the conservative claws of Rome and it'll be interesting to witness his style in ten years time.
One sure way of getting young people back to the church is by putting on more episodes of Fr Ted, a Channel 4 production which is currently doing a re-run on Sunday nights on Network Two on Sunday nights. What can one say about the plot except it's nonsense, some people think it's vulgar and over-the-top and if the actors were British we'd all be complaining about Irish stereo types.
Fr Ted is a vain priest whose attempts to bed an intellectual novelist are thwarted by a flock of nuns (nuns!!), dumb ass Fr Dougal, who doesn't believe in God and Fr Jack who spends his days drinking meths and uttering ``Feck, hairy arses and drink!''. Still the next time you miss Mass, catch Fr Ted!
If you're looking for that hearty breakfast to set you up for the day you should have tuned in to Two Fat Ladies, BBC 2, Mondays. They might look like bishops, but travel by motorbike and sidecar, and tell tales about their sisters-in-law while they cook up strange dishes.
They spent the latest episode in a local vicarage, belonging to The Black Sheep brewery in North Yorkshire. They swopped muesli for some griddle corncakes with rashers and syrup. Incidentally, a griddle is a Victorian usurpation of the Scottish `girdle' or frying pan. This was followed by devilled kidneys, which resembled a dish Hannibal Lector might indulge in.
This was followed in turn by a visit to a Kipper shop in Whitby, where we were treated to some ``luvlee'' smoked kippers.
Back to the Vicarage then for Chilli Con Carne, lentils and Onions and heuvos rancheros, all washed down with a pint of Black Sheep Ale. Unless you're a Sumo wrestler or a bishop you won't have the inclination to indulge in any of the above first thing in the morning.
I'm sticking to my Belfast Baps and some Ardoyne lager for the Park!