I was doing this one's hair on a photo shoot.
Just filling in for a mate. I was having a laugh, you know.
Telling jokes, just slagging people.
This one whose hair I'm doing turns around and goes,
You're hilarious. You're really funny.
You're like something out of a Roddy Doyle novel.
Roddy Doyle. Listen here.
You, the OC and the rest of the Dundrum Shopping Centre crew
can tell Roddy Doyle he can kiss my fuckin' a..
,.
It's our 2 year anniversary on Friday.
Last year we went to Pizza Hut.
Steve got me a cake, only by lying and saying it was my birthday.
This year we were going to go out for a proper dinner. Instead..
At first I thought it was a wind up.
Then I seen my mate Paddy on the news.
Tallaght turner and fitter wins the lotto.
And him, outside the local Supervalu bouncing around with
a cheque bigger than that big fat head of his.
Turner and fitter like. What is that?
He turns and he fits things like. Loads of money in it.
Fuckin' eejit decides at the last minute that he doesn't want his face on TV.
But instead of getting someone else to pick it up he just
kept putting his hand over his face.
This way for the camera Mr. Kelly. How does it feel.
It feels bleedin' rapid, yeah. Savage.
I mean rapid.
You'd think anyone who won the lotto and wanted to remain inconspicuous
would keep the spending on the low.
Invest the winnings in stocks and all that shit.
Get a gaff, a trust fund for little Paddy.
Nah. Fuck that.
'09 3 litre engine, GTI hatchback with rocket repelled wheel spinny thingies.
In lime green with go faster stripes.
Fucking cat looking thing.
"Sources close to the lucky winner say that although he's already
And to celebrate he's throwing a big old school street party.
Please come to my super whopper deadly party.
Acts on the night will include Aslan.
Master of ceremonies will be Martin King (TV3 weatherman).
Also on the night, largest bouncy castle in the western hemisphere.
Apparently he's getting this bouncy castle flown in specially from Scandinavia.
It's our anniversary but you can't miss that.
Plus he gave myself and a few of the boys a grand each
so we kind of have to show our face.
Great. Now instead of having a candlelight dinner
I'm going to be stuck in a rubber castle, every little banjo
from here to Clondalkin stepping on me with their little Nike Airs.
At least Aslan's playing.
Although I'd say it's going to be a bit of craic.
He said he's going to pay all the aul' ones on the road to make food for it.
Rice crispie cakes, fairy cakes, jelly and ice cream.
He says, it's going to be old school Keenan. The way it used to be.
D'you know what I mean.
It's gonna be bleedin' turbo.
People used to always have street parties around here.
Just to celebrate being alive.
Like games like Twister, dance competitions, balloons, buntings.
Everyone would come together and do something for it. Make something.
Then it just stopped. I don't know why.
Turbo like. Paddy has this theory.
The theory of turbo.
There's no word in the English language that you can't make
better and more Tallaghtastic than by putting the word turbo in front of it.
Is he mad out of it? No, he's turbo minty fresh mad out of it.
Sorry boys, I can't talk now. I'm riding my turbo bird.
Turbo pregnant.
# How can I protect you in this crazy world.
# It's alright.
It was supposed to be just for our estate and the lads
and all the families and kids from around and shit.
For a while it was good, wholesome fun.
But the bouncy castle is actually a scale replica of Castle Greyskull from He-man.
Being about 16 feet tall, it starts to attract every little
snackbox in a mile radius of the thing.
Paddy, Tao and Johnny were running around dressed up like He-man characters, screaming..
I have the power!
Locked because the aul' lads from Killinarden had sold them and
everyone else cheap gargle from off the ferry, over their walls.
He wins the lotto and he's still drinking cans of Bavaria.
That clown Deco. A bouncer from The Green Room.
A crew of his gangster wannabe mates are floating around.
They're fairly well on.
It's not a good recipe since the dope bleedin' barred
half of my mates and most of the people here.
Games of pin the tail on the donkey and gargling don't go well this early on.
One of his dope mates ends up starting on my next door neighbour.
Steve said Deco and his mates were starting fights.
As I recall it it was the other way around.
Memory is a fragile thing.
People always remember things differently.
When I was 7 I vividly remember being a fuckin' Jedi.
Eat your dinner. You eat your dinner.
It was restless.
It was a perfect time to get the tunes going so the aul' ones
pushed Martin King up on the stage.
Fuck knows what he made of it all.
So Martin King jumps up on the stage and goes
welcome to Paddy's super whopper deadly bla bla..
Sorry, Aslan won't be coming on now but they'll be playing a little bit later.
Like they've anything better to be doing.
There's a rustle in the crowd. This thing is about to kettle.
Weatherboy turns around and goes, I've been told that this next
performer's mam knows Paddy's mam.
She's convinced him to kindly step in and get things started.
Please welcome..
all the way from Finglas.
MC Slice. Who?
Get fucked.
So he launches into his set.
Next of all I see this thing in slow motion looping through the air.
Did you ever see that movie, 2001 A Space Odyssey?
The one where the monkey throws the bone in the air.
Replace bone with bottle and monkey with Murphy
and picture that bad boy hitting MC Shitebag square in the fuckin' head.
First off you don't sing a song about Finglas to a load of Tallaght heads.
Then someone jumps up on the table stomping on all the rice crispie cakes
and starts screaming, wreck the fuckin' gaf.
Martin King got a few digs thrown at him as well.
He's actually TV3's answer to Jackie Chan.
Starts Kung Fu-ing the bollocks out of it on the stage.
Bet you TV3 don't know that. MC Slice wasn't as lucky. Disappeared.
He disappeared off into the horizon after some involuntary crowd surfing.
Then someone would have to go and burst the bouncy castle in the middle of it all.
It's inflatable, therefore it's destructible.
Therefore let's fuckin' wreck it.
You'd need an industrial size Stanley blade to burst one of those things.
I reckon that was one of my little brother's mates.
Chop that little mullet off him.
So I'm on my ones. I grab the bird by the hand
before we get a bang of a bottle of TK Red Lemonade
in the fuckin' head.
Steve pulls me under the table and grabs two bowls of jelly and ice cream.
Neapolitan. I love that one.
The one with the three flavours.
If you don't like strawberry you can always have vanilla. Nice one.
I like to think I'm sensitive to my bird's feelings.
A modern bloke and I could tell Sarah wasn't too impressed
about spending her anniversary underneath a table in the midst of a street riot.
It wasn't ideal but there was something romantic about it.
I mean she puts up with some shit, being around me and all my train wreck mates.
My granny used to always say when you have a nice looking girl,
a good girl, you treat her right.
So I decided at that minute it was time to break out the big guns.
He told me the only reason we came to the party was because
Paddy gave him a grand.
I wanted it to be a surprise because I spent most of the money on a holiday.
We've never been on holiday together.
I've never really been on holiday.
I spent the rest of the money on..
I told Steve I'd always wanted one when I was a kid. Just in passing.
I forgot I even said it or that he was listening to me.
Her ma wouldn't buy her one. Long story.
Anyway, took me ages to find the thing.
Cost more now than it did back then.
It's in its original box and all.
200 brick. Better be a rock of crack cocaine in the boot of the thing for them prices.
Malibu Barbie loves her new pink beach buggy.
Turbo deadly!
I'd say with a girl like Sarah,
my granny's probably looking down over my shoulder saying,
she's a lovely girl, a nice girl.
Good lad.
If that's the case then when I was riding all those big fat
wrecks, she was probably looking down over my shoulder saying,
Steve. Steve. Steve.
The fuckin' head on that fat wreck.
Hey Belinda, do you want to get a gaf together?
Okay Peter. No problem. Where will we live?
Some estate out the back arse of nowhere where we have to commute every day.
Subtitles: Tracey Carr, RTE 2009.