Our columnist Frank Brandon on the varied selection of television shows on offer at the moment, the experience that led him to quit a short stint as a hackney driver… and countries’ different attitudes towards roadside giveaways
It’s Sunday evening as I write, and I can’t deny that it’s been a long, hard, and tiring week. As I get into the house after driving down from Galway, I am ready to do something that I don’t do very often: put the feet up and watch telly.
I decide to stick with RTÉ, and say to myself that I will give the new series of the prank show ‘The Full Irish Hidden Camera Show’ a chance. I did so reluctantly because whenever the last series was, I thought it ranked up there with The 2 Johnnies as the most unfunny show on telly. However we are always taught to forgive and forget, and that everyone deserves a second chance, and so I thought I would give it another go, and I sat in to watch Donnacha, Doireann, and whoever Carl is pull the wool over the unsuspecting public’s eyes.
I lasted for only the first two pranks; the first where they accidentally destroy people’s phones, and halfway through the second, where something happened in a tanning salon. I’d had enough. My return visit to this so-called prank show was just as bad as the first, and all I can say is I didn’t realise how good and funny Mike Murphy and PJ Gallagher were when they did the same type of stuff back in their time.
Anyway, just as I was about to give up on my restful evening (most Sunday nights now I write some of this stuff), I chanced upon an episode of Brendan Courtney’s Keys to my Life in which he had a chat with Tony Allen of Foster & Allen fame – and I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it!
It told the story of the famous singer, from his childhood living in a one-bedroom cottage in Mount Temple just outside Moate with his parents and his eight siblings, to the point where they, Foster & Allen, topped the charts in Australia and New Zealand with ‘Bunch of Thyme’ and had sell-out shows all over the world, including in the world famous Sydney Opera House.
It also told the story of the time he and Mick Foster went bankrupt and how Tony lost everything, including his BMW car and his dream house, a five-bedroomed bungalow that is still locked up and unoccupied to this day.
The good news is that the pair are back on their feet again, and are constantly touring, popular as ever. And after 50 years in the business, they are still packing them in.
One of the things they were known for was their ‘Leprechaun’ suits. When they appeared on Top of the Pops in 1982, the suits created as big a stir as the song did! Tony said the suits were a marketing stunt, which they deliberately set out to do.
Tony Allen is the brother of another country star, TR Dallas (real name Tom Allen), and he too joined Brendan Courtney in the programme to reminisce about their young days.
A couple of years ago, we saw Foster & Allen live at a concert in a marquee up in Aughrim, and not only are they great musicians and entertainers, they are also great craic – something that also came across in Brendan’s show.
The other thing that came across about Tony Allen was that he was very down to earth and humble – with no airs or graces – and simply got on with it when everything went pear-shaped, putting his head down and continuing to work.
I thoroughly enjoyed the show and If I was a TV critic (now that’s an idea, Paul!) I would be giving ‘The Full Irish’ a resounding miss – but thumbs up to ‘Keys to My Life’ after watching that episode featuring Tony Allen.
No patrol: why I couldn’t ‘hack’ this career move
One of the many careers that would appear on my very long CV would be that of a (short-lived) hackney driver.
A number of years ago, I decided that job was my way to the fortune that continued to elude me. And so I got myself a fantastic (although a little ancient) motor – a Nissan Maxima – and hit the road to make that fortune, but very soon realised that it wasn’t that easy… especially as there was only the one night, Saturday, when I was in any way busy.
However, after a little while I got myself an even older eight-seater minibus, and one evening I got a call to bring a load of young concert-goers to see Snow Patrol in the RDS in Dublin.
Confidently laying down the law that there could be no drink or drinking on the bus, I accepted the booking and happily headed off to Dublin at about three o’clock one Saturday afternoon. The journey up was quiet and uneventful and I was congratulating myself on such a peaceful trip when I suddenly realised that a couple of my passengers were hardly able to stand.
By some miracle they got by security and into the concert, while I parked outside the RDS and gathered up all the empty naggins of whiskey and gin bottles that had miraculously appeared on the floor of the bus.
All went well until the concert was over and my load arrived back slightly the worse for wear, but nonetheless ready to hit the road west. The only problem was that my eight was now only seven, and of course I couldn’t move until we found the missing passenger.
A couple of hours went by, and I was just about to ring the Missing Persons office when our lost female passenger finally reappeared and calmly took her seat with no word of either apology or explanation. We should have been leaving the RDS at about 10 pm, but it was now well after midnight.
When I finally got to bed, having dropped my last passenger home, it was long past the 3 am mark. And as I fell into my welcoming (although a bit lumpy) mattress, I resolved there and then to retire from the hackney business.
And so last Friday night, when I managed to catch up with the Late Late Show, I had more than a passing interest in the guests, who happened to be the same Snow Patrol who unintentionally brought the curtain down on my driving career, and stopped me from making the fortune I was so sure I was going to make.
I must say that the three lads seemed really sound, and were good fun and played good music, so being the magnanimous gentleman that I am, I forgave them for all the money they have lost me, and wish them well in their future careers.
However, if they are playing in the RDS any time soon, you will have to make your own way there – I will not be on duty!
Sofa not so good!
A number of years ago, for all of us in the furniture business (which I was in at the time), Dutch furniture was all the rage. There wasn’t a house in the country that didn’t have a sofa or an armchair or a coffee table or a wall unit that was made of the famous, extremely strong, solid oak.
Huge numbers of Irish lads would regularly travel to Holland to pick up loads of the Dutch furniture and they used be amazed to find any amount of quality items simply left on the side of the road. All they had to do was load them up, free of charge, and bring them back home. Apparently things were so good in Holland at the time the natives were constantly changing their perfectly good furniture and leaving items out for anyone to take away.
However, that type of thing doesn’t work in Bournemouth – as Isabelle Pepin found out when she placed an IKEA chest outside her house, free for anyone that wanted it. Sadly, after five days no one had taken it, and she brought it back in.
Now you would think that would be the end of it, but that’s where you’d be wrong! After a couple of visits from council officials, she got served with a £500 fine for fly-tipping. She intends to appeal it, and apparently had loads of local support in her efforts to get the big fine overturned.
And finally…
Larry Kilcommons tells me that the third Bard of Connacht competition is taking place again during the Harvest Festival and aspiring Byrons or Wordsworths are invited to have their entries in by 30th of September. There is a prize fund of €1000 to be won, entry is free, and you should send your masterpiece to bardofconnacht@gmail.com before 5 pm on the 30th of September.
So it’s time to get out your pen and paper, put on your poet’s hat and come up with something on the subject of loneliness. Who knows… you could be the new Bard of Connacht!
