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24 August 2004 @ 07:50 pm
The Rose of Tralee!!  

Or should I say the Rose of Ryan?

Jesus, but that man is a bollocks. A comic bollocks, but a bollocks all the same. I once had an involved debate with one of my BFs over the difference between a dickhead and a bollocks. We came to the conclusion that the latter sets out to wilfully wound and injure. Turbridy does that, and he gets away with it because scathing, put-you-down wit is par for the course for Irish presenters. Gay Byrne, who basically heads the Wall of Fame (well, we couldn’t afford a whole bloody Hall - we gave it all to the church and they’re using the money to pay compensation) was a hypocrite extraordinaire.

However. I thought, for posterity and a few cheap chuckles, I’d record some of his most staring stingers.

When I turned it on there was an American Rose up. I don’t know exactly which part she was from - possibly Boston, but she came on before South California.

TURBRIDY: *spots her father in the audience. has white beard* What’s Santa Claus doing here?

ROSE: *forces laugh*

TURBRIDY: So what does he do for a living? Aside from making toys that is.

ROSE: …and after they met my father offered to help my mom move house.

TURBRIDY: Helped by the reindeer.

ROSE: My ancestor from Kilkenny was an orphan with one eye. (Okay, even I snorted at that one.)

TURBRIDY: …OMFG. No way. Wow. *exaggerated amazement* So, this one-eyed orphan -

ROSE: *indignant* He had a name, you know! Pat -

TURBRIDY: Who’s going to remember his name after that? He’s the one-eyed orphan from Kilkenny!!

ROSE: …and there’s my boyfriend!

TURBRIDY: How many eyes has he got?

I loved the South California Rose. She was dead cool. And the Rose of Tralee can no longer be called anachronistic and a throw-back. I learned something tonight! - from her. Or rather her father. There is a language, called Dudelish, made up of a vocabulary of one word - ‘dude’. How wicked can you get? Dude.

Turbridy remarked that she sounded like the turtle from Finding Nemo.

When he found out the New York Rose’s boyfriend was a wrestler, he said in fear, ‘Omigod, I’d better stop slagging you now.’

Five seconds later he called the boyfriend ‘Johnny Wrestlehead’.

Mayo was boring but generated interest in our house mainly thanks to my stupido little bro. When the camera came on her father he shouted: ‘That’s the guy off Scrubs!!’

The man was a fluent Irish speaker. From Achill Island. In the Gaeltacht.

Yup. He was totally on an American medical sitcom.

Mind you, we have Scrubs on the brain in our house (and why wouldn’t we, it’s like the best show on TV. Dr Cox is mah idol).

Bro tried for three hours to explain who the man was (‘Remember, the guy who kept asking Dr Cox for -’). I never found out, mainly because I was yelling ‘Shutupshutupshutup’ in between mocking the singing.

Mayo yapped on about making Irish user-friendly. Unfortunately for her and every other fucker taking the LC and JC, the two terms are mutually exclusive.

My brother also has Baton Rouge, Louisiana, on the brain, thank you Carly Patterson. (Does that not mean Red Wand, no? Oh, the innuendo…) The Texas Rose was born there, which explains why she’s representing Texas. (…I’d always represent where I was born. Always!)

She showed us a bracelet her escort bought her. Inquired Ryan sweetly, ‘Did you get it in the middle of a brack?’

Note to Texas Rose: honey, no one outside the US uses the term Yankees. We call ALL of you Yanks, regardless of whether or not you fought for the slaves (or whatever it was the Civil War had to do with). Just so that’s clear.

Dude.

I think I may love California. (The place that is, not the Rose. Although I'm sure she's lovely when you get to know her. Okay, removing foot from mouth now.)

 
 
Current Mood: sillysilly
Current Music: 'Bye Bye Baby', Beach Boys