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Issue Three - 09/12/04 |
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Down the winding streets we go... |
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Oh lovely, liberal Galway, awash with entertainers, artists, students and all the other
employment-dodging piss-heads who grace our cobbled streets with pot-noodle vomit on a
nightly basis. It has always been like this, even before they pedestrianised our streets and lined
them with Super Brit stores, to give the consumers and entertainers both a podium and a pretty
backdrop. Only then the artists had a plight, the entertainers had souls and the students had
dignity. Ok, ok, so it was mostly the same only with less money and less choice. But while the
standards have risen in virtually every area one prominent vein has completely collapsed into
the vortex of shite; the street 'entertainment' industry. Our humble streets have become a haven
for every greasy-haired run away from the anus of Leinster imposing upon us a screechy
version of Karma Police. The irony obvious to all except the troubadour in question.
By-passing the well-meaning Californian Hotelier with eastern accent and side-stepping the King of Enthusiastic Preaching (a hands-down winner in the performance category), we stumble upon The Man Frozen In Motion. Released only from the sturdy clutches of time by coinage. What will he be today? A leprechaun? A robot in a suit? An old man? A salesman? Gasp in wonder as he holds his stick in mid air! And all without flinching from behind that restricting mask. Cast a coin his way and be amazed by his slow, uninspiring limb movement. Wow! Formerly of the Frozen Blues Brothers (equally muck but with an almost innovative concept) this lone ranger of entertainment confuses and captivates with a level of shitness not seen since the Romanian woman who mystified us all as she tried to bluff proficiency on one of our national instruments. At least she put herself out there for all to balk at. The Frozen Man doesn't even play to the tough drunkard crowd - he's off down High Street while there's still a seat in Neachtains. Rumour has it that the Blues Brothers split but I suspect these shrewd cowboys realised they could make the same amount of money with half the act and no effort, and lo was born the laziest leprechaun on the streets of Galway. Come back whistle lady, all is forgiven. |
 Stop your shite for the love of God! |