Is Shane MacGowan Still Alive? Read online

  Is Shane MacGowan Still Alive?

  TRAVELS IN IRISHRY

  Tim Bradford

  Copyright

  The author and publishers are grateful to the following for permission to reproduce material: Kinky Music and R&E Music for permission to quote from ‘Before All Hell Breaks Loose’ by Kinky Friedman and Panama Red and ‘When the Lord Closes the Door (He Opens a Little Window)’ by Kinky Friedman and Jeff Shelby; Warner/Chappell Music for permission to quote from ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’ by Ian Dury; BMG Music for ‘I Should Be So Lucky’ words and music by Mike Stock, Matt Aitken and Pete Waterman © BMG Music Publishing Ltd/Mike Stock Publishing Ltd/Sid’s Songs Ltd/All Boys Music Ltd (All rights reserved. Used by permission); Leeds United FC for permission to quote from The Leeds United Book of Football. Thanks to Pogue Music Ltd and Perfect Songs Ltd for permission to quote from ‘ A Rainy Night in Soho’ by Shane MacGowan.

  Every reasonable effort has been made to contact copyright holders for all the extracts reproduced in this volume. The publishers apologise for any omissions and are happy to receive any emendations from copyright holders at the address below.

  Fourth Estate

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperPress 2000

  Copyright © Tim Bradford 2000

  Tim Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

  Source ISBN: 9780006551683

  Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2016 ISBN: 9780007394685

  Version: 2016-01-13

  Dedication

  To the Irish people who

  have changed my life

  Epigraph

  But Leeds taught me something else – that

  work and will to win are just as vital as any

  instinctive skills you may possess.

  JOHNNY GILES, Leeds United Book of Football

  Today I decided not to think of you

  But was betrayed by a lazy pub window.

  I saw a slim tree whose delicate red leaves

  Rose and fell in the Thames breeze –

  A mixed-up drinker, at this time of year,

  I can taste Yeats in the beer.

  ROBERT GAINSBOROUGH, ‘Maude Gone Fishing’

  Contents

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAPH

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  PREFACE

  Is Shane MacGowan Still Alive? Camden Town to Camden Lock

  Irish Myths & Legends 1: How to be Irish

  FINNEGANIA

  On a Clear Day You Can See Fulham Football Ground Hammersmith

  Irish Myths & Legends 2: Irish Food

  VIKING TOWN

  Visions of Beer and Loathing on the Road to Holyhead Hammersmith to Dublin

  Notes on a Cultural Tour of Dublin

  The Informal Urchin-gurrier Choir of Hill 16 Croke Park

  Dublin, Fair City of Vikings, Buskers and Soaring House Prices Twenty-four quietish hours

  Irish Myths & Legends 3: Leprechaun

  ORANGE COUNTY

  Hungover Adventures with the Sea-Urchin-Moustachioed Guard Kildare

  A Cup of Tea, A Slice of Cake, I Love You Adare, County Limerick

  Looking for an All-Encompassing Theory of the Universe in a Hurling Match Limerick to Thurles, County Tipperary

  Why is there Orange in the Irish Flag? East to west Portarlington, County Laois

  The Search for the Celts

  Dunphy v. Charlton Football

  Irish Myths & Legends 4: Some Ancient Sagas of Magical Creatures

  SHANEWORLD

  Lost Highway – County Cork

  Fungie the Dolphin, Dingle, County Kerry

  Is Irish Music Any Good? Doolin, County Clare

  The Day the Earth Stood Still Limerick to Galway, County Clare

  Conversations with the Future Foreign Correspondent of the Irish Times Galway City

  Alone on Yeats’ Mountain Sligo to Benbulben round trip

  W. B. Yeats v. Daniel O’Donnell Around Sligo

  The Ian Paisley Impersonators Talk about Weapons Derry

  Thinking in Four-part Harmony Mullingar to Moate

  Irish Myths & Legends 5: Heritage Ireland

  MARYLAND

  Smelly Stuff, God, Moving Statues and Space Jockeys Ballinspittle, County Cork

  The Art of the Storyteller Blarney,County Cork

  Selling a Car in Potato Town Youghal, County Cork

  The Beach Tramore, County Waterford

  Born to be Wild (Now and Again, if I’m in the Mood) Ireland to Englishness

  APPENDIX: London Irish pub guide

  KEEP READING

  IRISH CROSSWORD

  HELPFUL IRISH MAPS

  INDEX

  SOLUTIONS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PRAISE

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  List of Illustrations

  1 Welcome to Ireland

  2 ‘Ireland’

  3 Atonal Improvised Alto Saxophone

  4 Morris dancing v. Irish dancing

  5 Leppy

  6 FINNEGANIA

  7 Various: potato, wine-man, half-crazed hawker

  8 ‘Sure, so what’s this squiggly bit, then?’

  9 My Great, Great Grandfather the Horseperson

  10 Pseudo-Sean and his Joycean chat-up

  11 A dancing ‘Gerry Adams’

  12 Superquinn Sausages

  13 English butter bad, Irish butter good

  14 VIKING TOWN

  15 Tim’s Short- and Long-Term Memory Tank System

  16 Terry’s Short-Term Memory System

  17 Electropop

  18 The Great Lincolnshire Graphic Novel

  19 Various: comedian, armoured car, mad relation

  20 Holyhead

  21 Cultural Tour Icons: Book of Kells, Martello Tower, Maud Gonne, Charlie Haughey, The Divorce Referendum, Gate Theatre, Sharon Shannon and Donal Lunny, The Peace Process, Ireland 1 Italy 0, Dana

  22 Football Types

  23 O’Shea’s

  24 Mad Eyes

  25 Scary Viking

  26 Leprechaun, Firbolg

  27 Jockey

  28 ORANGE COUNTY

  29 Barney the Cocktail Maker

  30 Red-faced Beardy

  31 Various: angry short speccy guy, ticket inspector (dead-ringer for a German U-boat commander), two Clare girls, old man

  32 Hurling

  33 Sean McCabe the barber

  34 Yellow Steeple, Trim

  35 Tara

  36 The Celts were tough

  37 Faery Footballer

  38 Jack Charlton

  39 Sean the Dublin Bay Prawn of Neutrality

 
; 40 Kevin the Carp of Storytelling

  41 SHANEWORLD

  42 Tractor/pheasant connection

  43 Fungie the Dolphin

  44 Rex and Shaggy

  45 Doolin

  46 ‘Mars!’

  47 The Great Fiddle Mystery

  48 Gort

  49 Can Man

  50 Spanish Conceptual Art

  51 Various: Lorcan Murray, little-girl-next-door bird, anorexic English-looking blonde, shy sales assistant

  52 Benbulben

  53 Posing on some swanky ski resort with Steve Podborski, Bryan Adams and, er, William Shatner

  54 Bus driving away

  55 A Sligo pub: Pete the accordion-player, the Fiddler, ‘Dolores’ the Bodhran Player

  56 Daniel’s House, his Fans and his Jumper

  57 Daniel’s Family Tree

  58 Celtic Mike 238 59 Brain-Emptied TV

  60 Four-Part Harmony

  61 Tweed Cap

  62 MARYLAND

  63 God?

  64 A Moving Statue

  65 Connor/Kinky

  66 Potato

  67 Alloy Wheel

  68 Upside-Down car

  69 Fish

  70 Irish Pub Guide

  71 Irish Crossword

  72 Distribution of Tourists in Holiday Season

  73 Distribution of Rainfall

  74 Distribution of Conversational topics

  Preface

  This book is based on journeys I made to Ireland in 1998, and on various forays back to previous visits, or (in one or two cases) into an alternative reality. It’s divided into a series of ancient mythical areas, which I’ve made up. Some names have been changed, some have stayed the same. I’d like to think that you can start at whatever point you want in the book. Think of it as a rambling pub conversation about all kinds of trivia such as What is Irishness? What is Englishness? What is nationality? Who are we? Who are you? Are you staring at my leprechaun? Ah, so many questions and so little drinking time …

  Is Shane MacGowan Still Alive?

  Camden Tube to Camden Lock

  I came out of Camden Town tube, badly in need of a piss, and crossed the road to Barclays bank. There was just enough in there to get me through the evening – I was thankful that I’d kept the account at the little village in Suffolk where I’d worked for a while years ago. They knew I was a hopeless case but, because of that, they always made sure I could somehow get hold of money – perhaps they liked the fact that they had an impoverished London-based slob on their books rather then the usual farmers, shopkeepers, salesmen and village idiots. No, not very likely at all, it was probably just a computer error that kept giving me access to cash.

  I was going to an Evan Parker gig at Dingwalls. Not my usual midweek fare, atonal improvised alto saxophone (is it anybody’s?), but I was meeting my old schoolfriend, Plendy, and Martin, a mad Welsh mate of his who worked at the BBC World Service Monitoring Centre in Reading, and who was the kind of bloke who’d make witty one-liners that referred to Anglo-Saxon poetry and Russian revolutionary film makers. You had to be on your toes with Martin all the time.

  I started walking quickly in the direction of Chalk Farm, then saw a figure heading towards me at about 0.5 mph. I instinctively slowed down to get a good look at him. He was wearing a baggy, dishevelled black suit with an open-necked shirt and he looked as though just keeping upright was taking up all his energy. At one point he staggered into the road and kicked a half-full black dustbin bag, then zigzagged back onto the pavement. I tried to catch his eye as he passed me, but he was staring straight ahead, at some point in the pavement or the future which might keep him going. I turned and watched him disappear into the night, then carried on to the club.

  ‘Guess what?’ I said to the lads a few minutes later, as Evan Parker went ‘eeeeeaaooooo a bleedeblee doooOOOWWaaapooopopopo’.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Shane MacGowan is still alive.’

  And before Martin had time to make a witty connection between ‘Rum, Sodomy and the Lash’ and Beowulf, I went to the bog.

  IRISH MYTHS & LEGENDS 1

  How to be Irish

  1 Why you Need to be Irish

  Gone are the days when being English opened doors for people around the world. Now Irish is where it’s at culturally, economically, sexually and politically. The Brits have been jealous of the Irish for centuries because of their ability to drink, their nice singing voices, their straight-armed dancing style (which is so much sexier than Morris dancing) and their ginger hair.

  2 Positive Affirmations

  You can be Irish. You can leave behind the English world of semi-detached houses, garden gnomes and Freemasonry. It’s simple. Just repeat one or more of these simple phrases every day after getting home from the pub and in no time at all you’ll find yourself on the fringes of the Irish football squad for the next World Cup.

  Every day, in every way

  I’m becoming Irishyer and Irishyer

  Feck me

  I am Irish

  England 0–Ireland 1, Euro ’88

  3 Diet

  The way to a man’s nationality is through his stomach. The Englishman needs two vital foodstuffs to keep him going – roast beef and baked beans – while the Irishman can survive on just one, the simple potato. It is the most versatile form of nourishment on the planet and only Guinness has more vitamins and minerals and less calories.

  4 Exercise

  Football and darts are the national sports in England, and everyone in the country knocks a ball around in the road after work then goes down the pub, sinks fifteen pints of lager and throws little arrows at a board. It’s fun, but this regime is not great for total all-round fitness. However, there are many traditional Irish pastimes which increase strength and cardiovascular fitness, such as pub brawling, hurling, throwing the potato and that dancing where you keep your arms straight and move your feet really fast.

  5 Making Friends

  Irish people and English people are very similar except for slight variations in social etiquette. Without generalising too much, whereas the English are repressed, tightarsed cold fish with people they don’t know (such as their parents) Irish people will slap a stranger on the back, shout ‘How are ye?’ at the top of their voices, buy them a drink then take them home and give them a damn good seeing to.

  6 Sex

  Sex sells. Everyone knows this. That’s why I’ve included it in this book. The publisher will probably make sure that ‘sex’ is written on the cover somewhere in an eye-catching font, and then copies of the book will be put in the sex manuals’ section of the big shops. And those sections are always full of eager people with bulging wallets.

  Sex with English people is all messy and complicated what with condoms, Femidoms, spermicidal gel, multiple orgasms (for both partners), prenuptial agreements, and the dreaded threat of kiss ’n’ tell tabloid revelations. In Ireland all these things (including multiple orgasms) are rationed by their owners, Catholic Church International Holdings plc, so people have to make their own fun.

  7 Release the Leprechaun Within

  English people have an inner child that has temper tantrums, plays video games and downloads pictures of famous actresses in swimwear from the internet. Irish people, in contrast, have an inner leprechaun that has a great laugh and lives in those clear plastic domes that you have to shake to make the snow fall.

  8 Dye Your Hair Ginger

  FINNEGANIA

  London

  On a Clear Day You Can See Fulham Football Ground

  Hammersmith to Ireland (in my head)

  Hammersmith was fucking cold. Ice had travelled over from Scandinavia, passed across the North Sea like a self-satisfied speed skater1 and taken the short journey along the quiet, silver river to W6, where it had formed an unhealthy union with heavy metal particles, those noxious clumps of cancer dust that float around the major capitals of the world, but particularly the Fulham Palace Road. Most people would have cheerily admitted that
it was no worse than normal. If I’d talked to anyone. But I went through phrases of not talking to anyone, particularly Londoners over fifty, who would, naturally, start to bang on about ‘pea soupers’ and the 1950s and rationing and how the Kray twins were ‘lovely fellas’ really and football teams were much better in those days. They weren’t, I wanted to say, actually. Better. The football teams. I knew this and had already made up an argument for the time when I would be confronted in a dark alleyway by a gang of preposterously nostalgic and assertive football-mad cockneys. Players in the forties and fifties were just a load of unfit brickies with smoking-related breathing problems who hoofed the ball from one end of the pitch to the other.

  But despite the pollution, this part of Hammersmith is a beautiful place, full of life and noise and crap buskers and spilling-over pubs and real newspaper stalls (with more Irish papers than you can get anywhere in Ireland) and half-crazed hawkers selling six lighters for a pound (‘Laydeeezz. Lighters, laydeez?’), with Charing Cross Hospital looming over everything in much the same way that St Paul’s Cathedral must have dominated the old city in the late seventeenth century. Though Charing Cross Hospital isn’t quite as attractive. The upside of this is that there are no Japanese and American tourists taking videos of themselves or asking you for the way to the ‘Tower of London, buddy’, which has to be a good thing. People – well, estate agents and puff-piece hacks in the Evening Standard – are always talking about Fulham Palace Road ‘coming up’, getting smartened out and sorted. But all that ever seems to change are the pubs, which are the only things that don’t need changing.