Fr. Neil Horan
New Member
...and so it was, I hadn't met my old acquaintance quite some time...
It was Christmas Eve, between the newly installed revolving doors of my parish church...
a gloved hand : landed on my shoulder,
another : covered my eyes.
a soft, deep voice : "Still whorin', Father ?"
Well, thankfully the door kept revolving and the stranger revealed himself...
"Indeed, I thought it was yourself!", I said.
Removing a flat cap and reorienting his fringe skyward, he recoiled :
"Myself?, I'm never myself!- you should know by now my boy", as we entered the Church Of The Bottomless Candle
"That, I have come to realise", I said.
"Shall we repair to your confession box, Father ?"
"If you like", I said. "...but my parish house is just next door and I have it well stocked with Marmalade and whatnot at this time of year!"...
"Um..ok, but I would like you to hear my confession before the year is behind us...", he frowned
"That's fine. We'll talk in the living room.", I said.
"Good, well where have you been Father ?", he asked as we exited the church.
"The 'Children In Pieces' conference I'm attending has concluded for the day", I informed him as we headed up the gravely path to my parish house. "Do you know they were playing that as the Archbishop stepped up to address all of us on the latest crisis ?"
"Really, hmm...how very....um...flattering", he sighed as we entered the house and into the living room.
"They are trying to recruit celebrity apostles to reinvigorate the church, so expect a letter from Cardinal Connell. I recommended yourself".
"Dear God, please help me...", he chuckled to himself all Mutley like, settling in to arm chair.
"Still on the Grey?", I enquired.
"Yes my man : but it's 'Goose' rather than 'Earl' these days...", he snappily retorted.
"...with ice, thank you....oh and a saucer of Marmalade....with a teaspoon if you can manage that..".
"Certainly...I know your vice"
At the drinks cabinet, a number of things crossed my mind - not to mention his latest tour, with all its mishaps
"Thank you Father..", he said as I returned with the drinks.
"So, I'm glad to see you've finally immortalised my old parish of Swords !", I rejoiced, settling back in my armchair.
"Did I have a choice?", he said
"We all have choices", I said
"If we could but see them...but most of us live in the home for the blind, don't you find", he said
"Maybe - but we all need inspiration : including you", I said
"oh come now Father, don't hold back...wide to receive!"
"Well, witty banter on stage is all very well, but couldn't you do something different next year for a change ?!"
"..humm well I can juggle. Unicycling? Get fired from a canon ?", he derided
"No, no, no - turn things upside down! : you're an actor acting the part of ....well yourself...you write the script.
you have a choice to change it...it's theatre"
"oh, why bother ?"
"because bread without Marmalade is bland...", I said
"Maybe so", he said "but not Marmalade without bread!", spooning in a large lump of same.
"...Mmmm...Mmmmessage received loud and clear Father, but mmm may I say you're much too late. I thought of all that months ago....years ago
That was the theme throughout the Swords tour!.
...did you not see?....
I took my cue from an old etching from my dim and distant past : 'Illness As Art'....I think you need to hear my confession...", he said shovelling in another spoon of Marmalade : washing it down with a slug of Grey Goose.
"Certainly, I said. Please open your soul my son..."
"aaaahh!...Well mmm! yes......in the past, I've worn hearing aids, plasters, painted bruises. I needed to take it to the next level....to explode Father ! "
"I've done witty banter, yes like you said...and yes I needed to turn things um...slightly upside down"
"I see ...'bitter wanker' instead of witty banter then", I said ...trying to be witty.
"yes..umm...wit doesn't become you Father...
It's all about stage management these days, don't you think ?.
Publicity, the process is what makes success.
It doesn't matter if it's good or bad or if you're good, bad, bald, old, infirm or even.....ugly", he replied.
"That's very true", I said. "...very true indeed Look at me! - I am the living sign!"
"..Quite, yes...the newsworld hands people stardom for the strangest of reasons. Let me explain, or rather confess Father :
"I timed my collapse in Swindon to happen at the end of This Charming Man and to say I was quite pleased with the
outcome on Sky News and BBC News for once, from me, would be an understatement. It seemed like it was
more attention, in one foul swoop, than I've been given in the last 25 years...."
"Why Swindon?", I asked.
"Well one lives in hope, as I did in the hope that some clever swines would churn out clever Swine flu headlines in the tabloids,
which sadly never came to fruition. But I digress...the goodwill from the media organisations was surpiringly heart warming and welcome.
So, in Liverpool, as a follow-up I organised it so that the son of old friend would throw a pint at me.
I've a big head, or so I've been told, and I knew it was coming at that point so he couldn't really miss!", he mutley-chuckled.
"Christ on bike!", I exclaimed
"Yess.....that generated quite a bit more publicity, which..um...was quite pleasing to me....
But at heart...I am....a lazy sunbather...who likes to bask in the warm glow of the media spotlight, so sadly like a media whore : I wanted more....", he said spooning another large dollop of Marmalade washed down with 'Goose'
"More?!", I said
"More...I cannot lie to you Father - I confess...So in Hamburg, I organised it so that Dirk Sweinsteiger, a German cousin of our tour manager would tell me to go f**k myself after singing 'Paris'".
Unaccustomed as I am to using the F word, we decided we would need to rehearse this emotional exchange during the soundcheck.
Someone suggested I channel an upset Monty from Withnail to get into a different headset.
I thought it came off quite splendidly on the night. ", he chuckled to himself.
"Well fiddle me sticks!", I said "Is there no end to your debauched trickery?", I said
"...well...I was surprised that reach higher in the media chart headlines...
"...tailor made, as it was, for the headless hacks 'M tells hamburger to go f**k himself', etc., etc.
" a gaping goal and the ball is sent over the bar.."
I needed a swift fix of my special Marmalade Mead at this point.
"More Goose ?", I asked as I proffered the bottle
"Thank you...", he said.
" So....what next?!", I asked
"..Well anything to get in the press. To USE the press, I should say, because certainly my record company did nothing to help me or Swords"
..after my collapse, it seemed some 'eNeMiEs', so to speak were keen predicting my demise...
So I decided to turn this to my advantage and each night have moments of senior's forgetfulness, mistiming and untunefulness during How Soon Is Now? .
Sadly and surprisingly not many people noticed that.", he sighed taking another hefty slug of Grey Goose.
"Well it does shows just how much musicality and attention they possess...", I said.
"Sad but entirely true Father....sad...and ironic...", he said spooning some more Marmalade
"...mmm..the story...mmm..of my life", he said mealy mouthed.
Then downing the rest of his Goose, he arose abruptly. donning his cap and coat.
"...more of which Father, you will hear...when we meet again...who knows where or when...".
"Peace be with you my son. That'll be 3 Hail Mary's one Our Father", I said.
"Thanks Father, you the Goose and the Marmalade have been feckin' lovely! ", he said as he whisked himself out the front door into the distance
It was Christmas Eve, between the newly installed revolving doors of my parish church...
a gloved hand : landed on my shoulder,
another : covered my eyes.
a soft, deep voice : "Still whorin', Father ?"
Well, thankfully the door kept revolving and the stranger revealed himself...
"Indeed, I thought it was yourself!", I said.
Removing a flat cap and reorienting his fringe skyward, he recoiled :
"Myself?, I'm never myself!- you should know by now my boy", as we entered the Church Of The Bottomless Candle
"That, I have come to realise", I said.
"Shall we repair to your confession box, Father ?"
"If you like", I said. "...but my parish house is just next door and I have it well stocked with Marmalade and whatnot at this time of year!"...
"Um..ok, but I would like you to hear my confession before the year is behind us...", he frowned
"That's fine. We'll talk in the living room.", I said.
"Good, well where have you been Father ?", he asked as we exited the church.
"The 'Children In Pieces' conference I'm attending has concluded for the day", I informed him as we headed up the gravely path to my parish house. "Do you know they were playing that as the Archbishop stepped up to address all of us on the latest crisis ?"
"Really, hmm...how very....um...flattering", he sighed as we entered the house and into the living room.
"They are trying to recruit celebrity apostles to reinvigorate the church, so expect a letter from Cardinal Connell. I recommended yourself".
"Dear God, please help me...", he chuckled to himself all Mutley like, settling in to arm chair.
"Still on the Grey?", I enquired.
"Yes my man : but it's 'Goose' rather than 'Earl' these days...", he snappily retorted.
"...with ice, thank you....oh and a saucer of Marmalade....with a teaspoon if you can manage that..".
"Certainly...I know your vice"
At the drinks cabinet, a number of things crossed my mind - not to mention his latest tour, with all its mishaps
"Thank you Father..", he said as I returned with the drinks.
"So, I'm glad to see you've finally immortalised my old parish of Swords !", I rejoiced, settling back in my armchair.
"Did I have a choice?", he said
"We all have choices", I said
"If we could but see them...but most of us live in the home for the blind, don't you find", he said
"Maybe - but we all need inspiration : including you", I said
"oh come now Father, don't hold back...wide to receive!"
"Well, witty banter on stage is all very well, but couldn't you do something different next year for a change ?!"
"..humm well I can juggle. Unicycling? Get fired from a canon ?", he derided
"No, no, no - turn things upside down! : you're an actor acting the part of ....well yourself...you write the script.
you have a choice to change it...it's theatre"
"oh, why bother ?"
"because bread without Marmalade is bland...", I said
"Maybe so", he said "but not Marmalade without bread!", spooning in a large lump of same.
"...Mmmm...Mmmmessage received loud and clear Father, but mmm may I say you're much too late. I thought of all that months ago....years ago
That was the theme throughout the Swords tour!.
...did you not see?....
I took my cue from an old etching from my dim and distant past : 'Illness As Art'....I think you need to hear my confession...", he said shovelling in another spoon of Marmalade : washing it down with a slug of Grey Goose.
"Certainly, I said. Please open your soul my son..."
"aaaahh!...Well mmm! yes......in the past, I've worn hearing aids, plasters, painted bruises. I needed to take it to the next level....to explode Father ! "
"I've done witty banter, yes like you said...and yes I needed to turn things um...slightly upside down"
"I see ...'bitter wanker' instead of witty banter then", I said ...trying to be witty.
"yes..umm...wit doesn't become you Father...
It's all about stage management these days, don't you think ?.
Publicity, the process is what makes success.
It doesn't matter if it's good or bad or if you're good, bad, bald, old, infirm or even.....ugly", he replied.
"That's very true", I said. "...very true indeed Look at me! - I am the living sign!"
"..Quite, yes...the newsworld hands people stardom for the strangest of reasons. Let me explain, or rather confess Father :
"I timed my collapse in Swindon to happen at the end of This Charming Man and to say I was quite pleased with the
outcome on Sky News and BBC News for once, from me, would be an understatement. It seemed like it was
more attention, in one foul swoop, than I've been given in the last 25 years...."
"Why Swindon?", I asked.
"Well one lives in hope, as I did in the hope that some clever swines would churn out clever Swine flu headlines in the tabloids,
which sadly never came to fruition. But I digress...the goodwill from the media organisations was surpiringly heart warming and welcome.
So, in Liverpool, as a follow-up I organised it so that the son of old friend would throw a pint at me.
I've a big head, or so I've been told, and I knew it was coming at that point so he couldn't really miss!", he mutley-chuckled.
"Christ on bike!", I exclaimed
"Yess.....that generated quite a bit more publicity, which..um...was quite pleasing to me....
But at heart...I am....a lazy sunbather...who likes to bask in the warm glow of the media spotlight, so sadly like a media whore : I wanted more....", he said spooning another large dollop of Marmalade washed down with 'Goose'
"More?!", I said
"More...I cannot lie to you Father - I confess...So in Hamburg, I organised it so that Dirk Sweinsteiger, a German cousin of our tour manager would tell me to go f**k myself after singing 'Paris'".
Unaccustomed as I am to using the F word, we decided we would need to rehearse this emotional exchange during the soundcheck.
Someone suggested I channel an upset Monty from Withnail to get into a different headset.
I thought it came off quite splendidly on the night. ", he chuckled to himself.
"Well fiddle me sticks!", I said "Is there no end to your debauched trickery?", I said
"...well...I was surprised that reach higher in the media chart headlines...
"...tailor made, as it was, for the headless hacks 'M tells hamburger to go f**k himself', etc., etc.
" a gaping goal and the ball is sent over the bar.."
I needed a swift fix of my special Marmalade Mead at this point.
"More Goose ?", I asked as I proffered the bottle
"Thank you...", he said.
" So....what next?!", I asked
"..Well anything to get in the press. To USE the press, I should say, because certainly my record company did nothing to help me or Swords"
..after my collapse, it seemed some 'eNeMiEs', so to speak were keen predicting my demise...
So I decided to turn this to my advantage and each night have moments of senior's forgetfulness, mistiming and untunefulness during How Soon Is Now? .
Sadly and surprisingly not many people noticed that.", he sighed taking another hefty slug of Grey Goose.
"Well it does shows just how much musicality and attention they possess...", I said.
"Sad but entirely true Father....sad...and ironic...", he said spooning some more Marmalade
"...mmm..the story...mmm..of my life", he said mealy mouthed.
Then downing the rest of his Goose, he arose abruptly. donning his cap and coat.
"...more of which Father, you will hear...when we meet again...who knows where or when...".
"Peace be with you my son. That'll be 3 Hail Mary's one Our Father", I said.
"Thanks Father, you the Goose and the Marmalade have been feckin' lovely! ", he said as he whisked himself out the front door into the distance