Bossy male drivers in 4x4s grind my gears
I’M a good driver. Actually I’m a great driver. So good in fact that I was once crowned Queen of the Cannonball Supercar Run. So nothing grinds my gears more than a man, any man – never mind a road-raging, red jeans-wearing, 4x4 driving dinosaur desperately trying to cling on to his youth – thinking he rules the roads.
So I nearly blew a gasket when on Thursday a stark raving loony tried to tell me how to drive. I was motoring along nicely on the very aptly named London Bridge Road in Dublin 4 when a middle-aged motormouth motorist coming against me decided to foul things up for everyone. The road in question is a squeeze at the best of times. But if traffic is heavy, it can be a total jam.
In his attempts to bully his Land Rover around a man in a white van, the driver found himself with his jeep on both sides of the road, blocking all traffic.
From his seat he waved like a maniac for me to move up, and somehow manoeuvre my motor between him and the railings that his jeep was nearly touching.
While I likely could have made it, this lady-driver was not for moving. I don’t like to car-brag, but my car was far nicer and pricier than his decades old ‘woman’s jeep’, which maybe could have further fuelled his road rage.
And as I refused to move even an inch out of pure obstinacy – and fear of damaging my own very nice car – I could see him getting madder and madder.
I could see him shouting from inside his car, growing more irate by the second. I was beside the white man van who was chuckling away. ‘He tried to overtake me and got stuck,’ he laughed.
Next minute yer man alights from his car, stomps his way over till he’s standing right in front of my car and starts shouting and pointing hither and thither.
‘Would you ever do what I’m telling you?’ he raged in my direction.
I’ve not done what a man has told me since I was four, and I was not going to be ordered about now.
At this stage I knew not whether to laugh, cry with laughter, or let my little lady foot accidentally slip on the accelerator and proceed precisely as instructed. Right over his stomping toes.
Middle-aged men in 4x4s should really come with L plates... L for LUNATICS.
Kielty’s the host with the most sincerity
PATRICK KIELTY’S Late Late Show debut was a master class in what was actually non-showmanship. Funny to the bone, gracious at its core.
But what truly shone through was Kielty’s utterly genuine sincerity. Having interviewed Patrick for 24 minutes, this sense of sincerity does not come across to me as an act. It’s not performative. It’s innate, and an intrinsic part of his character. I have been in similar rooms with stars for the past 15 years, so I’m perfectly attuned to recognising a phoney.
Such is the symbiotic nature of show business that Patrick Kielty is keenly aware that the relationship between celebrity and press is never a straight road. There will be bumps, potholes, and even U-turns and full-on collisions.
During our brief but thoroughly engaging interview, he told me he loves nothing more than allowing others to tell their stories. But what really shone through was that he not only allows others to speak, he actually hears what they say.
This is not something I say lightly. I left that room feeling good about myself. In my years that isn’t something I’ve ever experienced. If he can make every guest on his show leave the stage feeling even a little bit like how this cynical, worldweary showbiz reporter did after the interview, then The Late Late Show is set for a big reboot.
But even for delivering on night one, Mr Kielty should take a bow, take a breath and continue to take us with him on his journey.
Sozzled clown faces bill for arm and a leg
THE ‘Idiot Abroad’ award has to go to the drunk Irish tourist who scaled an ancient statue in Belgium for a selfie, before breaking a part of it clean off.
He is now facing a bill of between €5,000 and €7,000, according to the architect responsible for the renovation of the artwork.
Video captured the moment the ‘clearly intoxicated’ Irishman was about to clamber atop the lion statue when the stone arm of an angel broke off.
According to reports he was later arrested at a fast-food restaurant. Having lived for over a decade in a very popular tourist destination, I have seen every kind of dimwittedness known to man.
We had the totally plastered tourist, fast asleep in the middle of a roundabout before waking up wondering where his wallet and spanking new, specially bought holiday sneakers were. Then there was the other lad who had a siesta on the bonnet of a car under the scorching Spanish sun, and eventually came around screaming in pain from sunburn.
So there is no one more eminently
qualified to discern a joker from a jerk, a prankster from a pillock. And this buffoon in Belgium is truly deserving of the lifetime imbecile award.
We’re caging the wrong animals
GERRY CREIGHTON spent most of his working life caring for elephants in Dublin Zoo, but he now shares his expertise with zoos across the world, working as a specialist elephant care consultant and conservationist.
Gerry was on radio this week talking about his new book, Raised By The Zoo. The passion and dedication he demonstrates for these animals is remarkable.
It was great to hear him say that zoos in the western world have evolved from places of animal entertainment to animal conservation. And we have Gerry and many other like-minded people to thank for that.
But when he spoke of how, every 15 minutes, an elephant is shot in the wild – slaughtered for their ivory to be sold on the black market – it highlighted the very worst of humankind. At that rate, and in the not-too-distant-future, the only place we will be able to see these majestic creatures is in a zoo, a place where they don’t belong.
In reality, it’s the hunters, the poachers and the appalling people who pay for the ivory tusks, which they use as grotesque trophy ornaments, who should be in cages.