On Tuesday, Margaret told me she liked the little oranges with the seeds better than the ones I bought. I hated her for that. She was so insistent that they were utterly delicious that every effort to convince me of their juiciness and taste was an added stab in the back. I told Dr Oekkert who asked me as usual, “How does that make you feel?” On Wednesday Claire rang and we played golf in the morning and had brunch at noon. She and Richard are planning another trip to France to see their wonderfully successful son Pierre. Why would you christen your son Pierre? Neither of them are French; it’s like Pierre’s French existence was foreseen. I wonder what Claire thinks of my oranges? I’d like to think that, even if she didn’t like them, she’d lie were I to buy her some, go out of my way like that. In the car I found a Bakelite ram pin, a real one too. It was under the passenger seat; I only saw it because I was reaching down there for the Andrea Bocelli CD I like to listen to. There’s one song in particular called L’Ultima Canzone that gives me goose pimples every time and especially when after a round of golf and when I’ve been listening to Claire’s treatise on her beautiful children for several long hours. The item, the bracelet was, as I’ve said, expensive. How did I know? Well, for a start I used some Formula 409 on it when I got home and it turned yellow. A Bakelite pin like this one is worth several thousand dollars. I know this because Amanda with amazing legs in that place next to the “Dressed to Kill” office on 162 East 70th...

I used to wear a mask, To hide who I was. I was afraid, Of what people would say. When I spoke, when I smiled.   I designed the mask, To protect myself. To hide. My sense of humour, My loves and, My hates.   The mask was an aid indeed. To help my life progress, In ways, which I could not have imagined. With the mask, I was smiling, laughing, “Being me.”   One day I realised, That I did not need, to wear the mask. If I was liked, for who I pretended to be, I would rather not be. Liked at all. By Cillian Cotter...

  It truly has been a baptism of fire for David Moyes in his first season in charge of Manchester United. Lying seventh in the premier league, questions have been asked as to whether or not Moyes is the right man to take United into a new period of success. Sunday was a new low for the Old Trafford faithful as they saw their bitter rivals Liverpool win 3-0 as yet again United underwhelmed. With the club set to miss out on Champions League football for the first time in over two decades this result leaves United now battling for a Europa League spot with Moyes’ former club Everton and a struggling Spurs side. United’s rapid decline has been staggering and much to the joy of opposing fans. The champions’ fall from grace has been mostly blamed on David Moyes and if you were to ask him yourself who is responsible for United’s poor form this season Moyes would shoulder the responsibility. David Moyes does deserve to be criticized however he is not the only one at fault. The players must take a lot of the blame as well. United fans left Old Trafford on Sunday in dissbelief, not only in the performance but how little passion and effort the United players showed against their biggest rivals. The fans have given so much support and they’ve received little in return from the players. This has angered a lot of Manchester United fans so much so that their have been calls to drop star players like Robin van Persie. This does not take away from the fact that most United fans have lost faith in Moyes and if the rumours are to be believed, the board has also. Many fans questioned his appointment back in...

  It was a long time ago, I was born, I had almost forgotten my dreams for the future, My dream, As life went on it had vanished,  That dream was all over, Me and my dream were separated, When I was in collage I had a new dream, This replaced my forgotten dream, A new one, When me and my wife went to France,  She had new dreams for the both of us, She said “life does not go to plan all the time” People get older not younger, It goes to show you never stop growing up, When Dreams become...

In the T station there was a bunch of au-pairs playing cards. Malory approached and stood a short way off and observed how the girls were throwing down cards on to a pile then looking at what they had left in their hands. The screen said the next train was due in two minutes. He was going to Harvard Square to the Coop where he intended on staying for most of the afternoon. Now that there was a coffee shop there too as well as the books he could entertain himself for hours and that was a good thing. The girls quietly played their game as a choreographed unit and yet once in a while one amongst them would look at Malory or another commuter and hold a gaze for a few moments and pop some gum or brush a lock of hair away from her eyes or push her spectacles further up her nose; one girl – the most engaging of them all – wore a hat and had thick-rimmed glasses a bit like Clark Kent. Malory watched her the way one might watch a tapir in the zoo: she was at once unfamiliar yet reminiscent of a feeling but which feeling precisely he couldn’t decide nor did he try too hard to discern. She had rouged cheeks and thick red lips and a dimple square in the middle of her chin. Her neck was unwrinkled and her loose sweater allowed a view of two emphatic collar bones that rose slightly from her throat to her shoulders at an attractively subtle angle. Malory watched and breathed and appreciated the focus of his attentions, happy to be so harmlessly entertained while waiting for the train. When he turned his gaze to observe the train...

As I was turning from the road into my drive I felt a blow from behind. Careening round and utterly helpless, I saw I’d been rear-ended by Stephanie McMullane, the silly woman living three doors down in the mobile home. Long past the point when she ought to have stopped driving into me, she looked deadpen into my frightened eyes and hers registered none of the panic the moment warranted. I thought, “The old bitch’s finally lost it; must have forgottent to take her meds.” But while I heard my car crumple and the tricycle approach on the footpath, a serenity gently descended on the scene, a mellowing I attribute mostly to my own benificence. I decided I wouldn’t emerge from my poor car wielding fists and punch her squarely on the jaw; I wasn’t into hitting women anyway – bad for business you might say but there was a moral urgency at play too. Instead, and only once the cars had come to a complete stop, I took the can of blue spray paint and the stencil of assorted farm animals and found the pig and approached Stephanie McMullane on her right flank. She was rolling down her driver door window when I blasted her with pig-shaped spray, getting her square on her blouse which housed her massive bossom. “What are you doing?” she cried, trying to prevent any further branding with her small, fleshy hands, her eyes scrunched up and her thin lips rolled back tightly like a wound. “This is my contribution to the mayhem you’re intent on engendering around here,” I asserted, “but as to why I chose this particular mode, I really can’t say. Call it convenience,” my finger firmly wedged down on the button. “My blouse, it’s totally...

As you probably know, movies are often made under “working titles”. This means that during production and before a final name has been decided upon, the makers will use a tentative title for the work which may or may not emerge as the final name. Here are a few working titles of well-known movies: “Gladiator” by Ridley Scott (2000) was originally known as “That’s What Do Happen.” “Driving Miss Daisy” by Bruce Beresford (1989) was first called “Slinking Like a Mudda.” “Toy Story” by John Lasseter (1995) was made as “Play, Play, Play All Day.” “The Shawshank Redemption” by Frank Darabont (1994) was called “Jail!” “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” by Sydney Pollack (1969) was “Beat Them Til They Drop.” From these examples you can see why working titles are usually just that.  ...

Gone Girl, by Gilllian Flynn, isn’t your average thriller. The more I turned the pages the more I became filled with dread and yet I just couldn’t stop. The plot seems conventional, at first. Nick and Amy Dunne are a married couple. On their fifth year anniversary, Amy mysteriously disappears, leaving only a wrecked living room behind. The police get involved and soon the finger is pointed at Nick. This kind of set-up isn’t unique, we’ve all seen it before. However, this illusion only lasts for the first half of the novel. After that, it becomes a much creepier and distressing tale. I can’t say much without spoiling the plot, but I’ll just say that the plot twists in this book are unlike any you’ve ever seen before. The story is narrated through the eyes of both Amy and Nick, alternating after every chapter. This makes the story even more interesting, as we see how both sides saw the situation. You also realise quickly that some of what they say even contradict the other side. It also helps that both characters are incredibly believable. They’re flawed people and they both have secrets to hide. It makes you sceptical of what they say, and soon you start second-guessing yourself. What really happened here? Which one of them is telling the truth? The unreliable narration only adds further to the mystery. The themes approached in the book include relationships, honesty, and commitment. Gillian herself said that she wanted to examine the topic of marriage with the book. There’s plenty of food for thought to mull over in the book, and part of the reason why I’m writing this review is so more people can read it so I can talk to someone about it. Overall, the...

It was a week that I was not sure I would enjoy. I wouldn’t say I was dreading going back to my old school; in fact, it was the opposite! I enjoyed my years in the school. However I was a bit worried that I would have nothing to do, nobody to talk to and the week would end up being very long. I could not have been more wrong! I was based in Junior Infants for the week which made me nervous as it was the only class in the whole school in which I knew nobody. My two friends Brian and Ken had been on work experience the week before and they had each other to talk to and they would help each other to settle in. The teacher Ms. Cullen, an old teacher of mine, welcomed me back along with my old principal and suddenly I felt as if I had never left! I don’t remember much of my time in Junior Infants but I’m certain that we weren’t as lucky as the infants here now. There were shelves upon shelves of toys from construction to farming and barbies to pirate costumes! The infants also have great variety in their learning. They begin the morning by getting into groups of five; then five or six learning support teachers come in and take a group with which they do activities to improve and understand the English language! For example, the infants would have to match the first letter of an object to the correct object. They then all regroup as one class and practise their handwriting and maths. When they return to the classroom after lunch it’s playtime! I had to have different areas set up, like the construction area, which included...

The Good Book Bible references are everywhere, giving the lie to the popular notion (especially amongst our younger readers) that the Good Book is irrelevant. Bruce Springsteen’s song Adam Raised a Cain makes references to the first man and his son Cain, the first murderer; Dostoyevsky mentions Elias from the book of Luke Chapter 1, verse 17 in his The Brothers Karamazov: ‘and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah/ to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children/ and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just/ to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.” Who’s Luke anyway? I hear you ask. He is, according to Bible scholar David Pawson, “the best loved but the least well known of all the four Gospels.” The book of Luke contains the stories of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son (The Rollings Stones have a song called Prodigal Son). And while other books such as Matthew talk about the Disciples being likened to salt, Luke elaborates on the metaphor. Luke also contains the only story about Jesus’ first 30 years. Steven Pinker, renowned Harvard academic and author writes in The Better Angels of our Nature (reviewed elsewhere on this website) that the Old Testament is proof that the world has got less violent. The book Sex and Punishment by Eric Berkowitz mentions the book of Leviticus and how in it the Jews outline their laws including their ban on homosexuality because it doesn’t promote the production of more Hebrews. Leviticus is also where you’ll find Sodom and Gomorrah (Gomorrah is a movie too, while The Pogues have an album called Rum, Sodomy and the Lash). Iron Maiden have a song called Revelations inspired by the Book of Revelation,...

Ever since Sparrow suggested that I should write this story I’ve wondered where I should begin it. The beginning is a very good place to start but the problem is that, because this is a true story about me and many others, the beginning isn’t so clear-cut. Do I begin with the moment that I was born? or the moment that my mother knew that she was going to give birth to me? What about the moment that the parents of the eldest person in this story knew that he was going to be born? See, the beginning of this story is just like the beginning of the universe: you can’t pinpoint exactly where it starts. You can come up with ideas, like Hawkins did with the Big Bang theory, but there’ll always be the question of what came before. With that said, I think I’ll begin this story with something that happened in the spring-time, two months after my eleventh birthday. School was over for the day. I was walking home, humming the theme-song to one of my favourite videogames. It had been a very interesting day. Mr Fagan had spent all of classtime talking about nothing but trains. I find this interesting because it was so different than the stuff that we normally talked about, like fractions and grammar. I don’t always like people changing the timetable because it makes me feel unprepared but I really liked this change. He knew so much about trains and, if I had had a chance to go to the Model Railway Village after this lecture, I’m sure that I would have been able to tell my foster parents a lot more about its trains than my twin could, despite the fact that it was his...

It all started when our over-heralded star, Philip Maguire, woke up in a imaginary desert. It was the eight time it had happened. Feeling exceedingly angered, Philip Maguire hit a dull pencil, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). He then realized that his beloved Potato was missing!  Immediately he called his undeclared soulmate, Maguire Philip. Philip Maguire had known Maguire Philip for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were flamboyant ones.  Maguire Philip was unique. He was easy-going though sometimes a little… abrasive. Philip Maguire called him anyway for the situation was urgent. Maguire Philip picked up to a very mad Philip Maguire. Maguire Philip calmly assured him that most South American hissing sloths shudder before mating, yet spotted wolf hamsters usually explosively yawn after mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Philip Maguire. Why was Maguire Philip trying to distract Philip Maguire?  Because he had snuck out from Philip Maguire’s with the Potato only three days prior.  It was a curious little Potato… how could he resist? It didn’t take long before Philip Maguire got back to the subject at hand: his Potato. Maguire Philip panicked. Relunctantly, Maguire Philip invited him over, assuring him they’d find the Potato. Philip Maguire grabbed his rhinocerus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Maguire Philip realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the Potato and he had to do it fast. He figured that if Philip Maguire took the noise-polluting import, it would take at least eight minutes before Philip Maguire would get there.  But if he took the Maserati then Maguire Philip would be ridiculously screwed. Before he could come...

The greatest works of fiction have the innate ability to transcend the age groups. The Harry Potter books were known for being marketed at both kids and adults, PIXAR films have a reputation for making grown men cry (i.e. the ending of Toy Story 3). Joining this rank of universally engaging works is The LEGO movie. A fact that not many people realise is that the LEGO empire almost collapsed in the early noughties. However, they swiftly picked themselves up and they have never looked back. LEGO is the second most popular toy company in the world and its video game adaptations have gained a reputation for “tie-in” video games that are actually good. With its partnership with Warner Bros. LEGO can seem to do no wrong. This is why they took the brave move to turn to movies. Outwardly,  the LEGO movie is a 90 minute long commercial yet while watching it you never seem like you are being marketed at; you are instead having fun. The graphics in the movie are incredible with the whole world built out of LEGO blocks. The producers have taken imaginative steps to convey LEGO waves, explosions and high-action vehicles. It holds that PIXAR-esque charm that draws you in and suspends your disbelief. The plot is fundamentally basic: good guy must stop bad guy. It’s been done millions of times before yet it contains enough twists along the way to keep even the most seasoned of viewers watching. The LEGO movie‘s greatest asset, that which gives it much of its charm, is the cameos: Batman; Superman; Abraham Lincoln; William Shakespeare; Dumbledore; Gandalf. These cameos, and buckets more, play off universally beloved characters and other franchises such as the hilarious moment when the Star Wars lads pay the...

2013 started with a big win for Cork in Pairc Ui Chaoimh when they tore Tipperary to pieces. However, this led to four narrow defeats which gave Cork serious trouble. They had to play Clare in a relegation battle in the Gaelic Grounds in Limerick. The game was a close encounter with no team wanting to give in. Clare started to build a handy lead and at one stage they were seven points ahead. Cork somehow found a burst of energy from nowhere and drew level. The last few minutes were tense with neither side breaking the score line. The game went to extra time. Something had to give and it ended up that Cork had just gone one step too far behind. This game told us that Cork and Clare were out of contention for the Liam McCarthy cup in September but in fact these two teams turn out to be the revelation of the summer. In the first round of the Munster championship Cork met Clare once again. This game proved to be another cracker with the Rebels coming out on top with an unbelievable performance. Two weeks later Cork met Limerick in the final. It was nip and tuck for the first thirty minutes until Cork were reduced to fourteen men. This was a poor decision by the referee which proved very costly in the end for Cork. This left them facing Kilkenny in Thurles in an enthralling match. People thought this was going to be the end of Cork hurling for another year. They were proven completely wrong. Cork came out and blitzed Kilkenny winning by six points in the end. This blew the championship up a notch and Cork stated that they were not going to be beaten too...

What’s so bad about Russia invading Ukraine? So, big bad Vlad is after “Putin” his lads into Ukraine. So what? Ethnically speaking, the area that’s been invaded – where his alleged “Crimeas” have occurred – is Russian. The people speak Russian, dress Russian and are always late and therefore forever Russian. Yeah I know, an invasion is a bit far but it’s not like the USA or the UK never invaded anywhere or interfered to serve their own interests; at least here it’s partly justifiable because the people they’re “invading” are Russian instead of just having lots of oil. I’d say Tony Blair is still digging for WMDs somewhere out by Fallujah. Here we also see the media tell us that Russia is bullying Ukraine and that the Russians are bogeymen. This is inaccurate. Anyone remember the time Fox News faked an Iraqi Scud missile strike in Jerusalem on a green screen? True story. The media portray what they’re told to and not solely the Western view. Two anchors from Russia Today news channel have resigned already in protest, making them Russia Yesterday’s News. We have no real objective view in the media, just two polar opposite propaganda machines fighting each other with fearmongering and old video clips of Red Army exercises. The truth isn’t in the mainstream media; the truth is that part of Ukraine is Russian and that Crimeans should be allowed a democratic vote to assert their identity. Crimea is semi-autonomous anyway so they’re entitled to decide their own future. It is a fallacy to believe the idea of Crimeans cowering in their homes in fear of the Russians as portrayed by the Western media. It is also a fallacy to believe the Russian tales of liberation and freedom from the tyranny...

So, everyone is debating the merits of the Russian invasion of the Crimea. Or, to be more precise, complaining about Putin and his evil soldiers taking over those poor Crimeans and invading the Ukraine. The EU, in typical fashion, does a lot of shouting and reluctantly concludes that it must meet again over it. There are the threats of expelling Russia from the G8. But there is an issue with this – two really, to be honest. The first one relates to the age old decree of “self-determination,” a policy so supported by America over the years. Sometimes the argument is made that a vote should take place before any such moves. While yes, such a move is seen as ideal, the Ukraine is at crisis-point. A large minority feels aggrieved over the exile of Yanukovich, particularly in the Crimea, which feels he was ousted in a coup d’etat. These feelings go deeper, though. These are people who feel alien within their country, like the Catholics in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. There are ethnic Russians who feel discriminated against ever since the break-up of the Soviet Union. This is an issue the men (and Catherine Ashton) in Europe have neglected in all their Putin-bashing. The second main issue relates to the sanctions. This sounds very noble coming from a past-Noble Peace Prize winner, but can it be effective? Short answer no, long answer… also no. You see, Russia doesn’t depend on us to survive. It is a self-sufficient nation, capable of supplying its own wheat, meat, fruit and vegetables… and oil. Let’s us remember the vast resources of oil Russia has – and gas too. In fact, it is one of the biggest exporters of these resources to Europe. It’s all fine and...