The most stressed out I've ever been about Christmas was when I was 16 and I got my first ever job, working at M&S in Dundrum.
As soon as I started I kept hearing these myths about the Christmas Eve Waste Sale, where all the food that wasn't sold on the 24th was marked down 90%.
I have to come clean. *I* am the guy who keeps telling Americans that we don't have stuff in Europe.
I'll have a few glasses of wine, get on Reddit and post something like "In France, they don't have texting. People tie their messages to bricks and throw them at each other."
This is like the sort of thing the main characters in a Time-travel movie would see after returning to the present that makes them realise they've fucked the timeline.
Anyways, the food was great and the best thing was thatdad made a big deal about me providing it.
Any time someone said they liked something he'd give me an elbow in the ribs.
By the end of the dinner you'd have sworn I'd taken the job as some sort of Oceans 11-style long-con
Anyways, this Christmas is probably going to be a bit shit in comparison so it was nice to reminisce about a better one.
Also, I got a Creative Zen MP3 player which I'm still convinced is the pinnacle of music technology.
Yes, Dad had to start prepping and cooking a turkey at 11.30 the night before but the next day we ate like Kings.
Or at the very least, people from Dalkey.
He was instantly like "Rich, this is too much. How much did you spend? The whole idea is that this was supposed to cost less!"
I showed him the receipt and we ended up driving home blasting Springsteen the whole way.
There's also no point of ringing him and asking him to come closer because my Dad comes home from work every day and puts his phone in the kitchen drawer & that's where it stays until he leaves for work the next morning.
Does this defeat the purpose of a mobile?
Yes, yes it does
When we went through the shopping bags in the boot of our Corolla I swear I got some inkling of what it must be like to win Wimbledon and then do that thing where you climb the stands to hug your parents.
I've not known fear quite like writing this after a bottle of wine and then waking up to this many notifications.
For those of you asking, my dad is very much still with us.
Colin Farrell is the result of a decades-long propaganda campaign from Failte Ireland to make the world think Irish men are sexy and thoughtful rather than the weird, gnarled Celtic goblins we truly are.
I just called him and told him about how he went viral on Twitter and his reaction was to take a beat, say "that's nice" and then ask what I got mum for Christmas.
Reading over this, we come across a bit like the Cratchetts.
We weren't needy or anything. We just couldn't turn down the opportunity for cost-price pork crackling.
Television writers: I am going to create the most evil, unforgivable villain ever.
The internet: I want to, and I can't stress this enough, have sex with them.
I grab a Turkey the size of an American toddler and then I'm just kind of at a loss.
There's really was so much left over. I ended up grabbing sausage stuffing, croquette potatoes, duck-fat roasters and candied parsnips and carrots.
Anyway. I schlepp this bounty all the way to where we are supposed to meet and I see that he is literally pacing, at 11.00 Pm in December, outside his car.
He sees me and he looks like a husband waiting for his wife's operation results.
I'm 16 years old and I feel like my family's entire Christmas is riding on me.
I swear to myself that, no matter what happens, I'm going to come out of this with at least a turkey. No matter who I have to bludgeon to do it.
Even if it means not having a job on the 26th.
It's like something out of a Harry Potter Christmas scene or the end of Fantastic Mr. Fox.
There is *so* much food left. Everyone there could have taken 2 turkeys and there still would have been some left.
This was Christmas 2006 btw. The height of the Celtic tiger.
I start to drift towards the tills and manager asks me what I'm doing.
I think I've taken too much, there's some spending limit I haven't heard of.
Instead he's asking me why I'm wasting food and throws pork crackling and sticky toffee pudding into my basket.
I go to the till, expecting this to be the big reveal where it will actually end up costing me my entire month's pay.
It costs 23 euro.
Now my only problem is that I have about 16 kg worth of food and I've arranged to meet my dad 2km away because Dundrum parking is extortion
Feel like my four month old nephew wouldn't be looking so relaxed if he knew how much pressure our family is putting on him to make this Christmas extra special and different from other years.
I completely misunderstood the appeal of shows like Grand Designs. I thought people watched it to see a home makeover but the real draw is witnessing an irritating couple destroy themselves through hubris.
Everyone I worked with kept telling me not to get anything in beforehand because there was so much left that you could get your whole Christmas meal after the shop had shut on the 24th.
Dad & I argued for weeks about it. Going back & forward on whether to get a turkey beforehand
I've nothing to plug but maybe consider throwing a donation here?
I try to donate on Toy Show Day to assuage the guilt of being so mean to children on Twitter.
"Make a donation to Barnardos"
It was the most stressed I've ever been working in retail (which is saying something). I worked in Home & Gifts so every chance I got I would sneak over to Foods and see how busy it was, how many turkeys were left.
It was so busy I was convinced that there's be nothing left.
Eventually closing time rolls around and all the staff clock out and wait for the sale to start.
Now comes my next heart attack. I thought it was just whoever was working Christmas Eve that was able to go but the entire workforce has trickled in since closing and is waiting.
The main Foods manager comes out and ceremoniously announces that we can go in and I stick the head down and charge.
I don't go quite as far as to trample anyone but I can't say I wouldn't have itf it had come to it.
I'm convinced it's going to be an all out brawl and...
Eventually, we decided we were going to risk it.
I was working until close on Xmas Eve anyway so my Dad said we might as well give it a go.
Before I went into work that day he told me "Just at least try and get a turkey, no matter what happens"
Irish women who do OnlyFans must be braver than the troops.
This country is too small. I bet half the comments on every video are "Hey, do you remember me from Speech & Drama?"
Right, my mentions are just a constantly changing vortex of good cheer right now so I can't keep up with them. Sorry if I don't get to respond to you.
Thanks for all the well wishes.
I look forward to alienating at least half of you in the coming weeks.
Somewhere at RTE headquarters, there is a very conflicted Reeling In The Years producer wondering how they are going to fit all of this to Padam Padam.
[Ireland tomorrow]
Me [Chanting]: Toy Show, Toy Show -
Irish people on Twitter: Toy Show, Toy Show, TOY SHOW!
Ryan Tubridy [Banging a David Walliams book on a farmer-child's head]: TOY SHOW! TOY SHOW! TOY SHOW!
The 5 main, recognized genres of Xmas song are:
1. Seasons greetings to all
2. I want him/her as my present
3. I want to be home at Xmas
4. I want to fuck Santa
5. I am the eternal soldier, begging Churchill to stop the cavalry so we might avoid eventual nuclear Armageddon
I've said this before but the speed at which each season of Taskmaster's cast goes from "I know one quite well & have kind of heard of two others" to "I cherish these five people more than some family members" should be studied.
Yesterday morning my GF forgot her keys. I was still asleep so I couldn't hear her ringing the doorbell.
In an act of incredible ingenuity, she was connected to our wireless speaker in our bedroom and *blasted* music from it.
I've never been so alarmed.
The Leaving Cert, for my non-irish followers, is an ancient, annual ritual where our nation sacrifices its 18 year olds on the altar of carpal tunnel and a lifetime of anxiety dreams to ensure two weeks of sunshine.
It is our shameful pact with the Old Ones.
"Joe's Schmidt is going to use his inside knowledge of Ireland against us on Sat."
Joe at an analysis session today with a PowerPoint like:
Peter O'Mahony - Angry. Likes plants.
Johnny Sexton - Angry. 68 years old.
Keith Earls - Angry. See slide on "Limerick".
Ireland: These are incredible. What are they called?
France: Paniers feuilletés au jambon et au fromage.
Ireland: "Jambons." Got it.
France: Non, Ils ne-
Ireland: -We're going to sell them at Centra with wedges and coleslaw.
One thing an Irish man is going to do is awkwardly turn a regular t-shirt into a tank top when it gets too hot, regardless of how famous they are, and I think that's beautiful
I love everything about this.
Tim Roth's "I know you never thought about it before but, yes, I am extremely fuckable" energy.
Brody dressed as the bad guy from a Far Cry game.
Dafoe's cheekbones.
Oldman just giving off "Disappointed commissar in a space dictatorship" vibes.
Me: Male friendships should be more open & communicative. We should be more vocal about our struggles & the love we have for one another.
Also me: Well, Barry just misspelled Vegetables as "VAGetables" in the group chat so cancel all my meetings. This is what I'm doing today.
Once again, There's way too many lovely comments floating around about the M&S thread that I can't respond to all of them. I'm glad people still enjoy it.
It has made it to TikTok this year which I disapprove of because the people reading it there weren't born when it happened.
"We need to evoke a dreary, bleak atmosphere filled with characters that have the pallor of someone who has not seen the sun in centuries."
"I know just the place."
Netflix’s Wednesday to shoot season two in Ireland
One of Netflix‘s most popular series, Wednesday, is relocating production to Ireland. Start of production is reportedly slated for late April.
Read here:
Me, 40 minutes ago: This is a rebuilding year, post-Sexton. As long as we show promise and blood some new players, I don't care about the results.
Me, now: Were gonna win the Grand Slam, the World Cup and the Eurovision
#FRAvIRE
I feel like we should be taught what foxes sound like in school because you can go your whole life without hearing one and then suddenly be like "A banshee is being murdered outside. I am moments from death."
Spare a thought for anyone who lives in a Dermot Bannon designed house today. Coming into your all-glass extension to discover that your kitchen is now a giant magnifying glass.
First 2 mins in the sea: This is where I belong. I am a creature of the surf, a modern day selkie. I will remain here & filter krill through my moustache.
The instant my foot touches something other than sand: The ocean is filled with untold horrors. Humanity has no place here.
I have seen the recent "Irish Ancestors" trend on TikTok and, while it's a little earlier than usual this year, I would once again like to issue Ireland's annual apology for accidentally creating Irish Americans.
I was sitting in a little cafe getting something to eat before the match yesterday and there was a very chic French woman beside us in a red beret.
As she watched more and more Ireland fans walk past in their novelty berets she quietly took it off in disgust.
The most stressed out I've ever been about Christmas was when I was 16 and I got my first ever job, working at M&S in Dundrum.
As soon as I started I kept hearing these myths about the Christmas Eve Waste Sale, where all the food that wasn't sold on the 24th was marked down 90%.
I am at the wedding of a friend I've known for 20+ years.
After a beautiful ceremony, he and his new bride walked down the aisle.
As he passed me he randomly grabbed me for a handshake as he passed.
My brain went completely blank. I ended up saying "Nice to see you".
*Okay!*
Yes, Aidan Turner, Jamie Dornan and Cillian Murphy are sexy but please remember that they only exist because we accidentally fed Colin after midnight one time in 2002.
"I'd love to meet a charming Irish man like Paul Mescal"
Tough, here is Niall. He has a completely spherical head and has strong opinions about Top Gear.
Bit of news. Over the last few years I've done a lot of tweets about my girlfriend (GF) on here but, due to recent events, I won't be able to do that any more.
Because she's now my fiancé.
For years, science has asked "How could the Westboro Baptists be even worse?" and the Burke family has finally provided the answer "if they were from Mayo."
If you enjoyed the above well then, as a direct result of this thread and all the support and lovely comments people have posted through the years, I have a novel coming out in 2024.
Different story. Same dumb sense of humor.
I'm in Galway. The last time I was here, I was standing outside a nightclub and a very drunk girl I'd never met stumbled up.
"You're a ride!" She said to my friend. She turned to me. "You could be a ride if you stopped being a smart c*nt." then she tottered off into the night.
In a way, the real winner of the Six Nations today is the game of rugby.
But in another, more important way, the real winners were Ireland and Scotland.
The M&S thread has kicked off again and the replies are coming in too quickly for me to comment on every one so thank you so much for all the lovely comments and stories. I sometimes read them during the year when I'm down and they always cheer me up.