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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

For the third time in four months, we went to see the beautifully wonderful and fantastically brilliant Bell X1, who are the best band in the world ever. I had fun with my mobile phone while dancing like a goon and shouting singing at the top of my voice. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Mr Paul Noonan singing with all the feeling he can muster (which is quite a lot of feeling):


In his flailing hand he has a rattle that is shaped like a cob of corn. He therefore spent much of the first song shouting singing the words "I AM A CORN COB! I AM A CORN COB!" which made me want to marry him just a little bit.



This is the photo that has been the wallpaper on my mobile phone ever since. This picture makes me smile because (a) any boy playing a guitar with his eyes closed means that he is singing the song like it's the MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD and because HE REALLY MEANS IT and he has the most sensitive soul in the world, and because (b) it reminds me of something that Carol's sister Ollie used to scream every time we went to see another band called The Quarrymen who were a Beatles tribute band. Ollie fancied the guitar player called Rob who took most of the John Lennon parts, and every time he got going on the guitar she used to shout "LOOK AT HIS FINGERS! LOOK AT HIS FINGERS!" which is the most sexually explicit thing I've ever heard her say.

Look at Mr Paul Noonan's fingers.

Hoorah.



The best thing about this particular Bell X1 gig was the people who were standing beside us. Two boys had come to the gig together, and they found themselves standing beside two girls. The two boys obviously saw their opportunity, and immediatley started talking to the two girls. It turned out that all four of them (like most of the audience) were Irish, and one of the boys started into the most ridiculous I'm-more-Irish-than-you-and-I-can-prove-it competition that I've ever heard. Establishing how long they'd all lived in London was only the start. Through the gig I caught snippets of their conversation (at the times when I wasn't thinking long and hard about what I'd do to Mr Paul Noonan given half a chance), and I heard (1) the boy asking what everyone got in their Leaving Certs, (2) how the Guinness in London didn't taste as good as the Guinness at "home", and - this one is the best - (3) whether any of them had actually met Ray D'Arcy in real life.

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