The Dubliner Magazine

Earl Grey & Ear Candy

The monthly adventures of Duckworth and Lewis by Neil Hannon

There is nothing so thoroughly stimulating as a day at the races. To obtain the aforementioned stimulus, my good friend Duckworth and I made our annual pilgrimage to Vicarstown for the 10,000 guineas. Old Ducky is a great judge of horse flesh and I hang upon his every word. I could feel the wad of tenners smoldering gently in the pocket of my waistcoat.

To ease the discomfort I took a quick nip of the rather fine single malt in my hip-flask. With every inch of its perilous journey from cake-hole to cockles, my anxiety diminished. And as we stood watching the steam rise from fresh mountains of turd in the paddock, I basked in the sonorous voice of Lawrence Stanley Duckworth and paid close attention to his sage-like advice...

“Just look at the hocks on that, Lewis! Equus majesticus honouratum indeed. Give us a swig, old boy.”
“There you are, Duckus maximus. Here also is the race-card for the main event.”
“I say, give us a goosey gander. A strong field with a great number of potential victors I fancy. Let us look at the pros and cons of each in turn.”
“That, my friend, is an excellent idea. I can see the bookmakers running for cover already.”

Opinion: Tanya Sweeney

No strong, independent woman gives a flying box of Milk Tray about V Day. She still wants a present though

‘How about writing something on Valentine’s Day?” suggests the editor. “We’re short on romantic stuff this month.” Valentine’s Day and romance are generally thought to make great bedfellows, but to my mind (a mind that’s not a little bruised and battle-weary), it’s very much a case of never the twain shall meet. Those who peddle their wares in time for Valentine’s Day labour under the pretence that a woman’s greatest erogenous zone is her heart (clue: it’s not. That’s why dildos are popular).

In truth, they’re selling cards, flowers, chocolate and lingerie not to nourish her heart, but to safeguard her pride and bolster her ego. Violets may be blue, but a simple truth remains; they’re not as blue as most women tend to end up as the sun sets on another sub-par Valentine’s Day.

The little shops that could no.6 - Rory’s Fishing Tackle

Gridlocked between the restaurants, bars and hotels of Temple Bar, Rory’s Fishing Tackle feels like a remnant from a bygone era. Established in 1959, not much about the store has changed – including Rory himself, who opened it all those years ago. “This shop is the exact same as when we opened 50 years ago,” he tells us, proudly. “Back then, there was only retail on this street. It’s all upmarket now. All restaurants and pubs, it’s completely changed.

 “We’re here so long now that old customers’ grandchildren are coming in,” adds Rory. But while the shop retains its old-fashioned charm, he’s no slouch when it comes to keeping up with the latest in fishing technology. “When we started there were only about 20 or 30 different rods to cover everything. Now you would have 20 rods for each species. There’s no end to it.”

Jesus, meet the Ewoks...

Tim Burton got it wrong. In his whimsical The Nightmare Before Christmas, the idiosyncratic one envisaged Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, tiring of Hallowe’en and hijacking Christmas instead. It’s now apparent that the reverse has occurred. The commercial behemoth that once confined itself to the final month of the year is working its way back through the calendar by stealth, absorbing all in its wake.

Christmas hit the Dundrum Town Centre on November 5th this year. Slade’s ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’ blasted over the PA in defiance of the unseasonal date. A small, bewildered child who remembered recently returning to school was prompted by a prematurely jovial Marty Whelan to switch on the festive lights. Bah! Humbug! Anyone who indulges in untimely merriment should, in the words of Ebenezer Scrooge, “be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.” Is there a single unadulterated nook or cranny left in this entire city where the true spirit of Christmas still resides?