Waiting for a dream

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

What's wrong with you people. Move! I'm on a mission here!... 'Scuse me, coming through, sorry about that ma'am...

Last minute X-mas-shopping is NOT a good idea. This town has gone mental. I had to physically abuse at least thirty people to pass through Graftonstreet. I've been touched in very intimate places by perfect strangers (which was nice). I made five babies cry, three women blush and got kicked in the teeth by at least five angry boyfriends. And I haven't even managed to actually get into a single shop.

Well, I had this brilliant idea of going to "Oil and vinegar" on George Street to get something for my mum. I actually managed to get into that one shop, since it was virtually deserted. I found out why. Thirty-five euro for 250ml of oil? You're kidding me right?

I might have to go with the "Cranberry sauce with port" I got at work. We were suppose to buy them for charity, but since we're all such scroogy buggers, they gave them away for free. I suppose I could scoop out half of it and give it to my grandmother. So, that's two of them sorted out. I think I'll give my dad and grand dad a handshake... That should make them happy, they're not really in to presents anyway.

So, all I have to do is get back to Blackrock in one piece...

Morituri te salutant!

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, December 23, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

The landscape is changing...

Well there you go. Revamp is all done. I even gave this site a new name. Some of you might recognise a whee Depeche Mode-influence. Anyway, over and done with. Time to look ahead.

What lies ahead is an X-masdrink with the colleagues that are still left. Tonight I have some last minute shopping to do and tomorrow we head for home. Plane leaves at half six, so it's going to be an early one... I (hope to) land in Charleroi (the country of numbing despair) at nine. Cross my fingers that the Belgian railways operate properly... (euh, had that drink with the colleagues now: rest of the post might not make a whole lot of sense...)

I should be home by noon. I'll probably get a few hours of rest, trying to ease this terrible cold, before we feast on a daddy-made dinner with my parents, grandparents, uncle, aunt and godchild.
Sunday we're of to Ghent to see Hulla and Bart Vandamme and probably play some cards with De Bende... Monday I have a DVD-comedy-special planned with Duvelman and Wednesday is RISK-day. New year's Eve we go to the Café Théatre and the second of January it's back to Ireland. I might not be able to blog all the time, but I'm sure you guys have other plans anyway. Have a good one...

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, December 23, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

New design

So I've been looking franticly for a new design. I saw some great ones on the net, but I'm afraid I'm not nearly smart (computernerdy) enough to implicate them. Well, I got this one, hope you like it. I tampered a bit with the colours. And in the process I lost all comments (Eat this Huug, desperate times, desperate measures)... Lukily there was Hulla to help me out! Cheers mate!

Posted by Bietje at Wednesday, December 22, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Et cetero censeo Carthagem delendam est
O tempora, o mores et cetera et cetera

I have absolutely nothing to say. Well, if I can't come up with something myself, why not steal someone else's thunder? I want to tell you about this hilarious blog: Why was daddy kissing that man in the park? (I dunno really, I always thought my old man was straight as an arrow. Goes to show: you never really know what someone's thinking, do you?).

There was this story on there a couple of days ago about a ... snot-cicle. I laughed my head off (spent most of the night in the E.R., but they managed to put it back on. Lost some hair in the process unfortunately).

Anyway, let's get back to our point here: snot. I have a very bad case of it right now and whilst blowing my nose, the mind often wanders.
I remember my last year in secondary school. During one of the most boring Latin-lessons ever (teacher Verdonck was an absolute tool, nothing compared to Van Der Donckt aka King Kong we had the three previous years. That man is still a hero to me. When Ceasar said the Belgians were the bravest of the Gauls he must have had that man in mind. And anyone who can make Cicero sound boring, should be executed on the spot!), the teacher sneezed. Two strings of snot hung from his nose in a very Dumb-and-dumber-Jim-Carrey-kind of way. Me and my mate absolutely cracked up. But apparently we were the only ones to notice. Up until today I don't know if the snotcicles were only in our heads or if they were actually and physically on his. Anyway, it got to the point where we got sent to the principle for laughing without reason and disturbing the class (Only thing we did was wake up a couple of fellow students).
So what could we do? Say: "Excuse me, Sir, your face has been covered in snot for the last hour or so. You're making an absolute ass of yourself and it's actually your fault we've been disturbing class. Anyway, it's a good trick, sir. Actually keeps us focused for once. Maybe not on Tacitus, but then again, you could make Lock, Stock and two smoking barrels an antagonizing glooming hour and a half, could you? You're about as much fun as being skinned and dropped in a barrel of vinegar. Your parents German by any chance, Sir?"

Or just take the blame and go to the principle? Well, that's what we did. He wasn't in due to personal reasons (his mistress -our French teacher, Vanneste- feared to be pregnant, which the doctors denied on the grounds of him being a man (the French teacher as well as the principle)).
So we got away with just apologizing to Verdonck (still covered in snot at the time). Strangely enough I got my lowest grade ever on Latin that year. But, despite that man I still think everybody should have read the Catalinic Speaches and the story of Scipio Africanus.

Sic transit gloria mundae...

Posted by Bietje at Wednesday, December 22, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?
(They do, I told them!)

So yesterday I did it: I gave a homeless bum a tenner so he could check himself into a hostel for the night. The poor sod was sitting outside Pearse-station. An elderly man, bent over his hat, mumbling “Spare change” to everybody who passed him by. I didn’t really want to make a scene, so I just gently threw the two five euro-notes in his hat and walked on. Your man suddenly awoke, stood up, came after me and wished me a Merry Christmas indeed… Some of the commuters even turned their heads, got out of their zombie-state for a split second and saw that there was a flaw in the Matrix.

So you think I must be feeling really good about myself now. Making a difference and all. Well, I was. For about five seconds. Then I realised that I spent about thirty times more on a suit on Sunday and that I’m about to spend ten times the amount I gave the bugger on some lousy meal on New Years Eve. We don’t really know what it is, huh? To be needy.

I saw Bob Sir Geldhof (who got kicked from school -the exclusive Blackrock College- in the street where I live) on Sunday. He was showing the original Band Aid-video to the “next generation” of do-gooders. At the end of the video there was a picture of a typical Ethiopian girl: thick belly, scull-like head, death in her eyes. And then he pulled the rabbit out of the hat: this girl lived and she was there, fully nourished and twenty years older. The Girls squeaked Aloud and all the other artists gaped as if they were seeing a Roswellian creature…

They're just precious aren’t they? Singing half a line (that has to be remixed for two days, because most of them couldn't hold a note if their life depended on it) and not getting ridiculous amounts of money for it. And who’s the clan-leader? Mr. Paul Hewson aka Bono. A regular goody-two-shoes, isn’t he? Saving the world, spreading peace where ever he goes. Fuck off Hewson! Your last tour made you and your drinking buddies 145million $. That money could give Africa bulimia for three generations. Your house in Dalkey costs about 15million € , and I don’t even know where else you got mansions. Nobel Prize for Peace? You must be joking.

If we ever want to heal this world, we’ll need more structural changes then some losers squealing some 25-year old X-massong. Let’s start with killing the George Bush’s, the Ariel Sharons and the Jean-Marie Pfaffs of this world and work from there. To the barricades! Death to the infidels! Let’s start the revolution. But not before January 4th: I’ve got presents to unwrap and geese livers to devour.

Posted by Bietje at Tuesday, December 21, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

We're on a road to nowhere...
Conversations in Dublin County on a Sunday afternoon

Yesterday, half three (15h30 in Ireland that is), I was after strolling through Merrion Park and making a few pictures of this fair city (I'm not as good as yer man at the old photographing-game meself, but I have a crack at it from time to time). I'm making my way through one of the estates as yer man drives up next to me. He's after rolling down his window and asks:

Man: "Yerself?"
Bietje: "Not too bad. Yerself? What's the story?"
Man: "I'm afterbeen lost for about half an hour. The wife and the kids are starting to give me grief (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more). Ya wouldn't know the way to Killkenny, would you?"
Bietje: "Killkenny, ya're after being on the other side of the island, ya are. I'm only afterbeen moving here three months ago, like, meself, that is. We'd better ask yer woman over there. 'Scuse me, misses. Yer man is after being driving around for hours. He's looking for the M50."
Woman: "The M50. Are ya lost, mate? Ya are. I'd say, like."
Man: "Actually, I need to get to Killkenny, meself, ma'am"
Woman: "From the south, yerself, are ya? I'd say ya make yer way back to the dual carriageway, take a left, at the seventh or eight lights take a right, passed the roundabout. Ya'll see a pub on the lefthand side, O'Leary's, fine pint they used to serve, they did. But then the landlord died and they had to sell. Place is owned by some guy from the Northside. There after losing half their clients, they are..."
Man: "And that's where I get on to the M50, meself, is it?"
Woman: "M50, is it? Oh, yes. Well, when ya're after passing the pub, ya take a right, ya'll come to a T-junction in Dundrum and I'm pretty sure there is a signpost there."
Man: "Fairplay to yis!"
Bietje and woman: "Take it easy, yerself!"

I'm after wondering how this country is after winning four Nobel prizes for Literature, meself, I am.

Posted by Bietje at Monday, December 20, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Smiths(e butn en rap)
Bigmouth strikes again

Johnny Marr, de ce pays. Johnny Marr, de cette ville. Johnny Marr, de ce boulot chez X&JR.
"Morrissey il n'y a plus d' paradis," chante Jo Lemaire et elle a bien raison.

The Morr-i-ssey this charming man staring at me in the mirror, the more he reminds me of the boy with a torn in his side.

There is a light and it never goes out and I want to be there now.

How soon is now?
PS Meat is murder

Posted by Bietje at Saturday, December 18, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Bridges of the world
Unite and take over

This morning I was taking the DART (Dublin Area Rail Transport) to work. We stopped briefly in the middle of nowhere, about half a mile short of Sidney Parade-station. After about ten minutes of agonizing silence, the train continued to the abovementioned station.

Then something very peculiar occurred: through the speaker a metallic voice announced: "Due to a bridgestrike at Grand Canal Dock, this train will terminate at Sidney Parade and will proceed southbound,,, yadeyadeyade..." Luckily he repeated this message a couple of times...

A BRIDGESTRIKE? What, in heavens name, is a bridgestrike?

Then it dawned on me: all the bridges in the world must be so jealous of that newly opened humungous bridge in France that they went on strike. Hmmm, that's probably just the free drinks from last nights Christmasparty talking.

Probably I misunderstood: maybe it was the local Bridge Club who went on strike and lay their heads (all five of them) on the railroadtrack, waiting for the Double E (I'm alluding to a Warren Zevonsong here, retards). But why would they: Dublin is reputedly friendly to bridgeplayers.

Eureka! I've found it. It's the English! The R.A.F. executed an airstrike on all Dublin bridges to teach them Fenian bastards a good lesson. I took out my Union Jack (always take the side of the aggressor, I say), but realised that something wasn't right. Tony would never invade a country unless Georgy told him to.

Anyway, after a 45-minute walk, I arrived at the company, which is situated just in front of the Grand Canal Dock-station. There I saw what really happened: a drunken truckdriver had hit the bridge with his lorry, and the people who had to fix the bloody thing were obviously on strike. Well, actually, they were just really Irish in approaching the calamity and couldn't be arsed to start working before they had their full Irish breakfast...

Laziness will be the downfall of this country, I tell you!

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, December 16, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

God save the queen

Sorry about these last posts. I know I've been overdoing the whole eighties-thing a bit (but you'll admit they were amazing!...) Anyway, I have another piece of disturbing musicnews...

Legendary rockband Queen will tour again. Freddy Mercury will not be joining the band on stage for personal reasons, also bass-player John Deacon might not be rejoining the group...

Queen? Without Freddy Mercury? That's hardly an ugly little princess, is it? I remember I was appalled when rumours persisted a couple of years ago that Robbie Williams might be the new Queen-singer. He's not nearly queer enough to fill Freddies shoes.

Terence Trent D'Arby replaced Michael Hutchence as INXS-frontman a couple of years ago. After just a few gigs, the remaining INXS'ers realised it wasn't right. It's over guys. Let it be. Maybe Boy George can lead the new Nirvana, or the Pet Shop Boys might team up with Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr...

This is just plain stupid. Nobody can replace Freddie Mercury. The guy had incredible presence, amazing chesthair, he was a Mazdaist and had a set of front-teeth like nobody else since him.

The new leadsinger will be Paul Rodgers, former Bad Company. What's in a name...

Posted by Bietje at Wednesday, December 15, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Shaddap you face!


The guy left of me is called Ruggero Paresschi. One of my best friends here, who left for Italy last week. This is a tribute to him! C U Ruggero

'Allo, I'm-a Giuseppe, I got-a something special for you. Ready? Uno, due, tre, quattro. When I was a boy just about the eighth grade,Mamma used to say "Don't stay out late With the bad boys, always shoot-a pool,Giuseppe going to flunk-a school." Boy it make-a me sick, all the thing I gotta do,I can't-a get-a no kicks, I always got to follow rules:Boy it make-a me sick, just to make-a lousy bucks,Got to feel-a like a fool, and Mamma used to say all the time: What's-a matter you hey got-a no respect,Whaddya think you do, why you look-a so sad?It's-a not so bad, it's a nice-a place,Ah shaddap you face! That's my Mamma, kid, now remember. Big accordion solo. Yow! Play that thing! Really nice, really nice. But soon there come a day gonna be a big star,Then make-a TV shows and-a movies, get-a myself a new car,But still I be myself, I don't want-a to change a thing,Still-a dance and-a sing, I think about-a Mamma, she used to say: What's-a matter you hey got-a no respect,Whaddya think you do, why you look-a so sad?It's-a not so bad, it's a nice-a place,Ah shaddap you face! Mamma, she said it all-a the time. What's-a matter you hey got-a no respect,Whaddya think you do, why you look-a so sad?It's-a not so bad, it's a nice-a place,Ah shaddap you face! That's my Mamma. Hello, everybody that's out there in the radio and TV land. Did you know I had a big hit song in Italy with-a this? Shaddap You Face. I sing-a this song, all-a my fans applaud, they clap-a the hands. That make me feel so good. You ought to learn-a this-a song, it's really simple. See, I sing "What's-a matter you", you sing "Hey", then I sing-a the rest. And then at the end we can all-a sing "Ah shaddap you face." OK let's try it, really good, uno, due, tre, quattro: What's-a matter you (hey) got-a no respect (hey),Whaddya think you do (hey) why you look-a so sad? (hey)It's-a not so bad (hey) it's a nice-a place,Ah shaddap you face! That's great, we can do it better this time I bet, hey: What's-a matter you (hey) got-a no respect (hey),Whaddya think you do (hey) why you look-a so sad? (hey)It's-a not so bad (hey) it's a nice-a place,Ah shaddap you face! OK, one-a time for Mamma, everybody: What's-a matter you (hey) got-a no respect (hey),Whaddya think you do (hey) why you look-a so sad? (hey)It's-a not so bad (hey) it's a nice-a place,Ah shaddap you face!

Posted by Bietje at Tuesday, December 14, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

The eighties-craze goes on!

It has been bugging me for days: who sung "You'll always find me in the kitchen at parties" and "Stop the Cavalry". This guy was a one-hit-wonder who actually had two (very different-sounding) hits. Thanks to my colleague Rob, I nailed him down: Jona Lewie!

You'll Always Find Me In The Kitchen At Parties

I'm no good at chatting up and I always get rebuffed.Enough to drive a man to drink I don't do no washing up.I always reached the stuff piled upa-piled up in the sink.But you will always find him in the kitchen at parties.Me and my girlfriend we argued and she ran away from home.She must have found somebody new and now I'm all aloneLiving in my own. What am I supposed to do?That's why always find him in kitchen at parties.you will always find him in the kitchen at parties.You will always find him in the kitchen at parties.Then I met this debutante I said I like new wave rock.She was into french cuisine but I ain't no cordon bleu.This was at some do in palmers greenI had no luck with her.You will still find him in kitchen at parties.You will still find him in kitchen at parties.At last I met a pretty girl she laughed and talked with me.We both walked out of the kitchen and dnaced in a new way.And now I've done my time in the kitchen at parties.I've done my time in the kitchen at partiesHe's done his time in the kitchen at parties.He's done his time in the kitchen at parties.

The catchy synthriff of this song was used by Liquido a couple of years ago, for their hit Narcotic...

Stop The Cavalry

Hey, Mr. Churchill comes over here to say we're doing splendidly. But it's very cold out here in the snow,marching to win from the enemy. Oh I say it's tough,I have had enough. Can you stop the cavalry?I have had to fight, almost every night down throughout these centuries. That is when I say, oh yes yet againCan you stop the cavalry? Mary Bradley waits at home in the nuclear fall-out zone. Wish I could be dancing now in the arms of the girl I love.
Dub a dub a dum dumDub a dub a dumDub a dum dum dub a dubDub a dub a dumDub a dub a dum dumDub a dub a dumDub a dum dum dub a dubDub a dub a dum. Wish I was at home for Christmas.
Bang! That's another bomb on another town. While Luzar and Jim have tea. If I get home, live to tell the tale, I'll run for all presidencies. If I get elected I'll stop - I will stop the cavalry. Wish I could be dancing nowin the arms of the girl I love. Mary Bradley waits at home. She has been waiting 2 years long. Wish I was at home for Christmas.

This is an all time Christmas-favorite you might even hear on the radio these days!
Thanks for sorting that out, Rob!

Posted by Bietje at Tuesday, December 14, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Contest...

If you can email me at least one hit of all the artists mentioned below before tonight 12PM, you will receive a special surprise!

Posted by Bietje at Tuesday, December 14, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

MORE! MORE! MORE!

Belinda Carlisle, Bros, Taco, Riguera, ABC, Richard Marx, Talk Talk, Eric Carmen, Steve Winwood, Matthew Wilder, Wham!, Plastic Bertrand, Indochine, Leopold Nord (et vous), Gary Numan, Tears for Fears, Paul Young, Mike&the Mechanincs, Visage, Ultravox, Falco, F.R.David, Adam Ant, The Cars, Cyndi Lauper, Pet Shop Boys, Pat Benetar, T'Pau, Cabaret Voltaire, Howard Jones, Spandau Ballet, Musical Youth, Scritti Politti, Rockwell, Black, Living in a box, Red Box, Laura Branigan, The Buggles en last but not least...

Posted by Bietje at Monday, December 13, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Retrojunk.com

Ever get nostalgic about your childhood? I was 12 in 1990, so my sick brain has been forged in the 80-ies. The eighties were always viewed as the Dark Times of the 20th century, but then the nineties turned out to be even crappier. So during the noughties the 80-ies finally got the recognition they deserved: camp rules!

Retrojunk.com gathers clips of your favorite movies: Beetlejuice , Conan the destroyer, D.A.R.Y.L. and Karate Kid.

You can find the theme songs of your favorite shows: 21 Jump Street, The A-team, Airwolf, Alf, The Freggals, He-man and the Masters of the Universe, Transformers and off course MacGuyver...

Unfortunately there are no music links to A flock of Seagulls, Jim Diamond and Ph.D., Nik Kershaw, Jimmy Somerville, Nik Camen, Men without hats, Thompson Twins, Wall of Voodoo (Stan Ridgway), Fiction Factory, Icehouse, Ryan Paris, Hall and Oates, Baltimora, Milli Vanilli, Rick Astley , Johnny hates jazz or Alphaville...

But you can always count on Bietje to take you back in time!

Posted by Bietje at Monday, December 13, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

I know who killed…the Zutons
(It wasn’t the Klingons!)

Saturday night I went to see the Zutons at the Ambassador-theatre. This old cinema reminded me a bit of the Cirque Royal in Brussels. The acoustics were great although the place could do with a bit of a revamp. Opening act were Dublin-based The Urges.

Before the Zutons beamed down from their ship (that was cloaked in orbit) onto the stage, they sent a reconnaissance-team called The Urges, to establish the mood of the public. This Dublin-born species fired Zutonesque music at the stupified audience: a sort of early Kinks with an edge. The away-teams leader reminded me of Doors-frontman Jim Morrison at times. He apparently hadn’t digested the transport, which resulted in a sort of a disequilibrium. It might also have been the use of Klingon bloodwine and illegal substances that triggered this phenomenon, but the ships log was inconclusive on this. The Urges bombarded the public for about 45 minutes, finding their adversaries a though nut to crack. By the end of their away-mission, however, they had won the crowd over and the approximately 500 attendees were ready to open negotiations with the Zutons themselves.

There was a malfunction during transport, and saxophonist Abi Harding failed to materialize. The band encountered similar problems during their previous visit, when an engagement with the people of the Olympia Theatre had to be ceased, due to radiation illness of the drummer. Captain Dave McCabius Kirk ordered his team to proceed without Abi this time and started of by giving the public the Zutonfever. After this first attack the band started working on the publics Pressurepoints and spread Confusion. After about an hour the ultimatum came: You will, you won’t? You do, you don’t? We did…

Mr. Data reported that the Zutons has performed well within normal parameters.

Posted by Bietje at Monday, December 13, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Let there be light...

Yesterday I had some photos developed. Pictures from my trip to Croatia, pictures from my stay in Belgium. Pictures from some of my mates, one of my (very skinny) female friends (She's married: d'oh!...euh, I mean: She's married though)...

Anyway, I forgot my new pictures in an internetcafe in Temple Bar. It took me about two hours to realise it. I was just going to my Spanish class and it dawned on me... I had to go back immediately if I was to have any chance to recuperate these memories. So I jumped on the first bus that said "An Lar", which is the Gaelic for city centre.

And the next stop it happened : hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah,hallelujah, Halle-he-lu-jaah (repeat to fade). There she was, in all her beauty. Descended from the heavens to deliver us from evil. A vision of utter perfection. Mother of all the devine and the earthly. And.. she had a hard time coming up with the correct change. I could hear her muttering something to the driver with a distinct French accent.

She ended up standing next to me and a few stops down the road, she asked me: "Where zo aai get of for Grafton Ztreet?"
"Encore deux arrets, " I replied.
Her face lit up like an Irish meadow at the first ray of sunlight after yet another deluge.
"T'es Français?"
"Non, Belge."
The bus then took a turn I hadn't anticipated, away from An Lar and Grafton Street. We got of at Pearse Station and I swore I could hear Ralph McTell singing: "Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of Dublin..."
I walked her all the way to Trinity, we said our goodbyes and I got a kiss on the cheek for being so gentlemanly.
Didn't catch her name, didn't get her number. It wasn't like that. It was much purer.
The Lord moves in mysterious ways...

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, December 09, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Peace in Northern-Ireland looks uncertain
DUP insists on "humiliating" Republicans

BELFAST, Northern Ireland - The Irish Republican Army has reopened negotiations with Northern Ireland's disarmament chief, signaling its readiness to put more weapons out of commission for the first time in over a year.

Gerry Adams, leader of Sinn Fein said the IRA was willing to resume disarming after a 13-month hiatus - but would not accept conditions designed to humiliate the group. In its one-line statement, the IRA offered no hint as to whether it intends to disarm fully and disband in support of Northern Ireland's six-year-old peace accord, as the governments of Britain and Ireland expect. In past rounds of disarmament, the IRA has refused to let it be known how many weapons it had put "beyond use."

The British and Irish prime ministers, Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern, plan to travel to Belfast on Wednesday to unveil the peace plan.

But Ahern offered a downbeat assessment of the chances of a breakthrough - and he pointed to the dispute over whether the IRA would allow disarmament officials to photograph the destruction of the group's remaining weapons stockpiles raised concerns.

Ian Paisley's Democratic Unionist Party, which represents most of Northern Ireland's British Protestant majority, is demanding this as a condition for forming a new administration alongside its old enemies in Sinn Fein. Adams, a reputed IRA commander since the mid-1970s, appeared to rule this out.

"I recognize that some unionists have genuine concerns about verification of arms beyond use," Adams said, using the deliberately ambiguous term used by the IRA to describe what disarmament officials are allowed to do with IRA weapons. "But Ian Paisley has to recognize also that the IRA will not, as I said before, submit to a process of humiliation," Adams said.

The British-Irish plans, presented confidentially to both Sinn Fein and the Democratic Unionists Nov. 17, reportedly include a call on the IRA to allow photos. The unionists accused Adams of seeking to pick the bits of the package he liked while ignoring others.

"This is a comprehensive agreement - it's all or nothing," said Democratic Unionist deputy leader Peter Robinson. "If the republican movement isn't prepared to sign up, I think that's regrettable," he said, using the blanket term for Sinn Fein and the IRA. "People in Northern Ireland could have been waking up tomorrow to a new era, but republicans have lost their nerve."

Posted by Bietje at Wednesday, December 08, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Den Tuveneir (1921-2004)

"Teige Van Batsen en Gullik moete uug speile, Kaarel."
"Twa nen iele gruute, ne rappe. Iejne mu ne foijne vu veu den bal."
"Tuuvert nog es, want wemmen et êt nuudig."
"Ge moet uug speile, ma da's moelaak natuurlijk!"
"Keshi, da es ne zwette. Dane moete late luupe. Dei manne rieke degoal. Edde Keshi zoan bille al gezien? Da kunde mè 20 man beefstuk van ete."
"Lustert ier, Karel. Veur maa, Maradonaa, tis den besten. Aaj at olles éé: snelaajt, tekniek, ne goej pas. Aaj was beter dan Gullik, Van Batsen, Rijkaar, Romanio, Babalero en Kluivers."
"De twie Zemba's. "
"Toen Anderlecht Nilis en Albert verkocht: "Ge moe kuupe, ni verkuupe."
"Zijn woorden na de 5-5 in Nederland-België: Ast 6-6 was gewèst, adde ze nog nen tiebreak mutte speile."
"Me de Marseille in den taad ik kost ne kaffee gon drinke, want ze koste tege ons toch gin goale moeke."
"La mort, daar denk ik niet aan", zei hij toen hij 80 werd. "Ast mut wil ik iniens weg zaan. Boef, duud. Gien kluteraa int gasthuis."

Raymond Goethals, who coached Marseille to European Cup success in 1993, died on Monday at the age of 83, following a long illness. He also led Anderlecht to win the Cup Winners' Cup in 1978, and coached his native Belgium between 1966 and 1976.

Marseille were stripped of their 1993 title because of match-fixing by their former club president Bernard Tapie. But Tapie has led the tributes to Goethals, describing him as "an extraordinary man".

Tapie admitted: "I am really sad, very sad. He was much more than just a coach.
"He had a nose for detecting young talent, and he was able to adapt to any situation on the pitch. On the human side, he was a fabulous guy who joked around with the players, which showed that he had their respect."

During his time in charge of the national side, Goethals led Belgium to third place in the 1972 European Championships.

He also took Standard Liege to two league titles and a Cup Winners' Cup final, and enjoyed more success after returning to Anderlecht.

Posted by Bietje at Wednesday, December 08, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

The winter of my discontent

So, the day after no tomorrow, hey...

You probably think I woke up amongst the creatures of the night in some back alley of this fair city after my drinking debauchery last night.

Not so.

During these dark days in Dublin I've devised different demarches to drown the dreaded doom and dark deadlock of depressional despair. Mostly, people listen to their favorite music. I do to, but since I've recently rediscovered the genius of Depress Mode, I listen to music, but not tonight...

When I'm depressed I eat or buy. So yesterday I spent about 20euro at Eddie Rockets, before heading for the HMV in Grafton Street.

After considerable debate, I settled on three comedy DVD's:

First of all the unfathomable genius Dark Klingon Lord Bill Bailey, with his Part Troll-DVD...
From Hillbilly Zeppelin, Drum 'n Bush over "Ein, zwei, drei mahl eine Dame" to the belly-ripping Krafwerk-tribute: there is just no funnier, more talented man that walks the face of this earth.

Number two was Billy Connolly live in Dublin. This comedy-legend is probably more vulgar and shocking than Bailey, but is whee lih'l accent just captures you from the start, doesn't it. His energy on stage is just fabulous.

Number three was a new name I discovered: Tommy Tiernan, Cracked, Live at Vicar Street. This Galwayman performing in one of my favorite Dublin venues was a revelation. Unfortunately his current tour is absolutely sold out, so the DVD will have to do.

To these three masters you may add Dylan Moran, the star from Black Books, a DVD I bought a couple of weeks ago. I used him as opening act.

A topnight of comedy, no sore head (my abs are, though) and gone all the depressing thoughts!

Joy to the world, the Lord has come!
(I always knew this Marie Magdalene was a bit of a slapper)

PS : Love Song - Bill Bailey

I was alone, my heart was cold, it was a stone, my soul was lonely, like a stone, there was no moss. And when I danced I danced alone, but then I did not dance because I was alone, so I did not dance. I shuffled through life invisible to all happy couples who would mock me with their merry laughter, hahaha. The only sound I heard in my silent and lonely world was the rusty hammer of my heart nailing at the hatred in my soul.

But then you came and my life was turned upside down. You showed me the beauty of things I had never seen like a snowflake that melts on the eyelid of a startled deer or the painting of a dog that wares a waistcoat and smokes a pipe that makes you laugh heartedly, but I previously thought was rubbish. Or the duck that lands so clumsily on a frozen pond in winter but the intoxicating power of our love transforms this simple act into an anthropomorphic drama where Mr. Duck is embarrassed and the other ducks are laughing (Kwek kwek kwek)

AND THEN YOU LEFT, AND I HAVE DIED A THOUSAND DEATHS AND I WILL DIE A THOUSAND MORE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE AN ANGEL, YOU TURNED OUT TO BE A WHORE. AND EVERYTHING HAS TURNED INTO DUST, EVERYTHING INFESTED BY THE PLAGUE. WELL, YOU HAD TO SLEEP WITH CRAIG. OOH, HE'S SO SENSITIVE, HE'S GOT A TATTOO. YEAH, CARVING YOUR NAME WITH A COMPASS IN MY FOREHEAD WAS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU.
THE SNOWFLAKE ON THE EYE OF THE DEER HAS TURNED INTO PUSS THAT OOZES FROM AN OPEN WOUND, THE DEER, NOW BLINDED, STUMBLES INTO A RAVINE. THE DUCK LIES SHREDDED IN A PANCAKE SOAKING IN THE HOISTING OF YOUR LIES. THE DOG HAS MOVED FROM THE PIPE TO 60 CIGARETTES A DAY AND COUGHS AWAY HIS LIFE IN THE COLD NEON RESEARCHLAB OF YOUR BETRAYAL, YOUR BETRAYAL, OF YOUR BETRAYAL...

Now, if that doesn't get your spirits up, I don't know what does!

Posted by Bietje at Sunday, December 05, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Musings for the (X)-Masses

Exactly one year ago I threw a big farewell party in Ghent, Belgium. I've been here for a year now... So what about Ireland? What about Belgium? What about anything?

Pff, I don't know really. I always get kinda depressed before going back home. Mostly the day before. I always go out and get absolutely locked, which doesn't make for comfortable flying, but usually the headache is so bad, it takes the focus of the depression. But after spending about half a day in Belgium (Charleroi and Bruxelles-Midi that is), I can't wait to get back to the Emerald Isle.

Everything is so much better there. I mean: the people are actually nice there, the beer's great, the food is good, there's music and good books and comedy and the Irish craic is all people ever told you it was.

So you're guessing that the same routine will just be played out again: depression kicking in a day before flying home and once I'm there the longing to get the hell out of there will take over...

I'm not so sure actually. I'm actually depressed three weeks beforehand. Of course the whole "It's-the-season-to-be-jolly-now-fuck-off-I-saw-that-Christmastree-first-ya-poxy-cunt"-thing doesn't really help. But I feel the problem might be deeper-rooted.

Don't get me wrong: Ireland is great. I mean the country: stunning coastlines, mountains, loughs, peninsulas, Celtic crosses, passage tombs... I mean the people: open, friendly, warm (and goodlooking).

Unfortunately, Ireland, the society, sucks. The beer and the food is ridiculously expensive, the music and books and comedy are mostly British or American and in most pubs in Dublin the craic is fake. There's no public transport, there's no social security. Property is just unaffordable. Most of the stunning coastlines, mountains, loughs, peninsulas are being maimed by weekend houses, a good part of the people are openly racist, violent or homeless (or a combination of those). The goodlooking ones are bitches (but then, that's the same in Belgium isn't it?)

So do I want to move back to Belgium? Dunno.

It's just that after a year the hard reality kicks in: there's no escaping from the metro-boulot-dodo mantra of life (although these days of course it's metro-boulot-cado-dodo). Ireland may be a more majestic background to the movie of life, most of the actors don't even notice it anymore. And although I gladly trade in my 'thirteenth month' for a nice bit of nature, there's another thing that Ireland lacks: Daf, Tantje, Grobelny, Gros Lolo, Kakeir (and their respective squaws), X-man, Emma, Mieleke, Manou, Ieuwke, Mitte, Charisa, Elise, Oen, Dietn, Eleve Wiebresjt, Eleve Vandevoorde,Tutte, Walloys, Peetn en Hans, Irmine (and her betterhalf), Fretn and his chicken, Trieniepienie and Vanacker.*

So I suggest you start writing me some nice X-mas and New Yearswishes to get me over this. I, for one, am gonna fight this depression the way I've always done...

"Oi mate, another Black Bush, no ice!"


*If you feel left out: bugger off, I've obviously forgotten about you!

Posted by Bietje at Saturday, December 04, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Bush urging Ottawa to join Star Wars program
Ferengi unwilling to dump Rules of Acquisition

HALIFAX - U.S. President George W. Bush ended his official visit Wednesday with a plain-spoken plea for Ottawa to join his controversial ballistic missile defence program.

"Our two countries are working together every day to keep our people safe," he said. "I hope we'll also move forward on ballistic missile defence co-operation to protect the next generation of Canadians and Americans from the threats we know will arise."

The U.S. ballistic missile defence program – known as Star wars - was not on the agenda of Bush's first official visit to Canada.

Furthermore the president mentioned that the alliance with the Vulcans would not enable us to stop the war in the Klingon empire and trade-negotiations with the Ferengi are at a standstill, as the Ferengi will not reconsider the 15th Rule of Acquisition.

“The USS Redneck, currently in the neutral zone helping the Cardassians in suppressing the Bajoran uprising, suffered some casualties as a wormhole collapsed upon them. We received some help from Romulan vessels, who joined the coalition of the willing.”

“Live long and prosper”, Bush concluded.

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, December 02, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Indian and Belgian parliament to install defibrillators
Elio di Rupo looked shocked at VB proposal

India's federal parliament will install defibrillators in case debates prove too stressful for MPs with heart condition.

The Indian Express newspaper said 14 of the emergency machines, each worth 190,000 rupees (4,130 dollars), would be placed at key points such as parliament's library where MPs are known to gather after a hard day's filibustering.

At least 210 of the 543 parliamentarians elected to office in May this year are above 56 years of age while 35 are proud septuagenarians, records show. Besides the defibrillators, the national assembly will also have a special ambulance fully loaded with modern equipment idling at its doorsteps when the house resumes business on Wednesday, the mass-circulation daily said.

In a related story, Belgians biggest opposition party, Vlaams Belang, would also like to see defibrillators installed in parliament. They plan to shock Elio Di Rupo (PS) if he dares just to look at one of them. Prime Minister Verhofstadt (VLD) will investigate the matter as he would like to use the devises on fellow party-members De Decker and Coveliers. VB’s plan to reroute the gaspipes in the showers has been dismissed.

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, December 02, 2004 | Permalink | Comments

Urine may lead to collapse of major bridge in Sumatra
Locals really pissed

A landmark bridge in Indonesia's Sumatra island may collapse because too many people are fond of urinating on one of its steel pillars.

Public works officials have found that the Ampera bridge, the landmark of Palembang city, the capital of South Sumatra province, has begun to lean on an angle and rocks slightly when traffic is heavy, the Jakarta Post said. An official at the public works department in Palembang, Azmi Lakoni, was quoted as saying the bridge had deteriorated because people often took a leak on one of its piers, corroding the structure.

"We are concerned that one of its main support piers has been weakened by urine, as it is a popular spot for locals to relieve themselves," Lakoni said.
He added that the acidic fluid's corrosive forces could attribute to an eventual collapse of the bridge. Officials said cargo vehicles weighing more than one tonne would be diverted from the bridge.

I remember some historic buildings in Ghent suffering from similar problems…

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, December 02, 2004 | Permalink | Comments