On Tuesday night, after an evening spent gulping back bellinis and spritzes, Jess and I managed to find our way back to our hotel in Venice without getting lost. Not much of …

When I started this project I imagined that the supply of good bad quality toys in Limerick would be practically inexhaustible. The only struggle, I thought, would be deciding what to omit. However, despite …

Few art critics (even the most stuffy, hidebound and be-monocled) would likely deny the legitimacy of graffiti as a contemporary urban art form. Those that remain ambivalent or unconvinced, however, need look no further than …

He was known as"Mad Carew" by the subs at Khatmandu,
He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell;
But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks,
And the Colonel’s daughter smiled on him …

Due (perhaps) to the spurious air of authority and reliability I accidentally and occasionally convey I seem to have become something of an Oprah-esque book recommender at work.

It started, innocently enough, with a casual mention (to a colleague) of one …

The year: 2016 A.D.

The Place: New York City

For almost 30 years the city's zero tolerance policy has kept a lid on the forces of crime, vice and depravity that once overwhelmed it. That is, until …

Though John Waters' spectacularly clunky and hokey lyrics for Ireland's 2007 Eurovision entry ("They Can’t Stop The Spring") were understandably greeted with howls of derision, it's hard to deny that he's simply following in an ignoble tradition.

Here, for your 'enjoyment', is a particularly hilarious/notorious verse from Waters' opus:

The curtain has been raised
And Europe's all one stage
And the archipelagic icicles
Have melted like the cage

"Archipelagic icicles"? I didn't even write shit that bad back in my leather-trousers-wearin', Jim-Morrison-lovin' days.

Cast our mind's back 26 years to Sheeba's "Horoscopes", however, and we encounter lyrics strained/bonkers enough to (perhaps) make even Mr. Waters blush:

Don't let the planets take control of our lives
Believe in the truth and not celestial lies
It's we, not the stars above, who write our horoscopes

Throw away almanacs, signs of the Zodiac
Then there is sense to be found
They are celestial, we are terrestrial
Let's keep our feet on the groundLyrics by Joe Burkett

"Horoscopes" can either be interpreted as a warning to resist the seducing wiles of palmistry, ouija boards, tarot and the like, or, a rousing paean to self-determination and free will. Whatever the case may be, the message is delivered with chipper gusto by the mighty Maxi, Frances Campbell and Marion Fossett. Here it is in all its glory (a glory somewhat dampened by shoddy video quality).

A doodle. Done at work. Inspired by the day that's in it. Or possibly something else entirely.