The Blindboy Podcast - Scaphism

Episode Date: November 8, 2017

Blindboy discusses tiki cocktails as hyperreal simulacra and asks if piss soaked denim causes epilepsy Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hello you shower of absolute pisswitches, what's the crack this week? This is podcast number three. I am incredibly grateful for all the ecunts coming back on week three to listen. I'm incredibly grateful that this podcast, and I'm shocked that this podcast has been number one in the iTunes charts for the past two weeks. And a little birdie told me that it's been fairly high up

in the top 20s of the UK charts as well. So thank you to all of the crackin' tans who have been togging out and listening and subscribing and subscribing and reviewing please keep subscribing and reviewing

because that's what keeps the momentum going with the podcast and I want this thing to grow I want this thing to be fairly big this time next year I want to be doing live podcast gigs because why not?

Also a very gracious thank you to all the people who went out and purchased my book of short stories The Gospel According to Blind By. I just heard back that it is now number two in the Irish book charts

which I again was not expecting. Thank you so much for everyone who went out and bought it it's number two number one is Dan Brown who wrote that film with Tom Hanks where he bothers a photograph of the Mona Lisa

that's painted by one of the turtles I don't know I haven't seen it but thank you you gorgeous cunts I'm going to be reading by one of the turtles. I don't know. I haven't seen it. But thank you. You gorgeous cunts. I'm going to be reading another short story today after some some rants.

Because I want to do something new with the podcast. I want to do something new. I want to let it change. Let it evolve. Let's have a bit of crack with it you know. Let's do let's try and do it. You know. Let's do.

Let's try and. Do something new. Speaking of doing something new. If you will direct your ears. You will notice that there is. Some very gentle. Piano. Tinkling piano.

Playing in the background. Of this week's podcast. And the reason for that is. Is that. You'll know that i'm all about trying to create that nice warm podcast hug and what i mean by that is um i believe the podcasts exist uh as little artifacts in this current moment in time. They serve a psychological purpose I believe. Because sometimes I can't understand why podcasts are even popular you know. Why do we want to listen to somebody rant about shit.

When if it was the radio we'd turn it off and call them a prick. But I believe that in our online world of social media where there is a non-stop emotional cacophony of angry tweets and anxious Facebook posts

and looking at too many six packs on Instagram or the existential anxiety of having to watch Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un awkwardly career nuclear warheads down the collective

political urethra like some oily corner of the deep web it's not pretty you know there's only two things that provide an element of calm within that extreme attention-seeking environment and those things are videos of cats and podcasts and what podcasts can do i believe is they give you a little warm mindful hug they allow us to have a little space in the day where we can kind of switch our brains off and not really

switch our brains off but engage a different part of our brain a more non-judgmental and compassionate creative um and curious part of our brains to just sit back and listen you know i think that's what podcasts do um other things that do that are fire fire does that you know um you know i think maybe podcasts are the fire of the 21st century there's a hot take for you but uh yeah fire is pretty pretty interesting and what it does to the human brain um in human evolution you know they were looking at how tools uh how tools were made over over the years with humans right and like we've been uh we've we've been anatomically modern for, I think it's about 500,000 years. Could be wrong, but a long time, like 500,000 years we've been, you know, anatomically.

Like people who look like you and me have been walking the earth. But we've been behaviorally modern for 50,000 years. Which is, again, is a pretty long time you know as in 50 000 years ago there was people walking around with the exact same brains as you and me and rewind back about 400 000 years before that i think we there was a young boy called homo erectus and to the best of my recollection, Homo erectus was the first lad to discover fire. But what happened was, our early ancestors had been using tools. Like little hatchets made out of rocks and maybe the odd spear or something. But the technology of these tools it remained static

for millennia you know they just there was no sign of innovation that the same tools were being used over and over again for thousands of years simple rock tools and then something happened which caused an explosion in creativity and it was when fire was discovered. When fire was discovered, the hominid early human brain experienced a wave of creativity and innovation. And people think, you know, archaeologists think, and paleontologists think, and anthropologists. I could beologists think and paleontologists think and anthropologists.

I could be wrong with the paleontologists there. I think they only study dinosaurs. Why are you listening to me for knowledge? I'm only getting one out of every three facts right. But anyway, something happened with an explosion of human creativity happened. And they think it's because of the discovery of fire for two reasons when humans discovered fire it is possible that the ability to cook meat released extra proteins in the meat which nourished our growing brains but others believe that fire uh causes the human brain to enter a very contemplative and creative state.

You know, you'll know this yourself. If you ever stand in front of an open fire and it's crackling, it's very peaceful and it's very hypnotizing. And it draws your mind in naturally to daydream and to forget about what's going on around you and some say that when this you know happened to our early ancestors that this caused them to think introspectively to think in an abstract fashion and to solve problems and invent better tools to solve their to solve their issues and problems and maybe the podcast is the same thing.

When I listen to podcasts, it does draw me into this very open and contemplative state. So, how did I get to this point? There is a bed of slow, tinkling jazz underneath this week's podcast because I want to create a hug for ye listening, a relaxing

hug and I'm also a musician so why shouldn't I just play some very simple, you know a loop of some simple jazz progression with a few tinkles because it's nice to listen to.

But you know what. If you don't like it. And it doesn't work. Just get on to me on Twitter. At Rubber Bandits. Or leave feedback on iTunes or whatever the fuck. App you're fucking using. And tell me.

Get rid of the piano. You go. Get rid of it. You pretentious prick. Why do you have jazz piano on your podcast? You've travelled up your own hole and it's only podcast number three. Please get rid of the jazz piano.

If that's how you feel, let me know. And do you know what? I might even listen to you because I'm just trying something out. Just trying something out. You barefaced hairdresser. Um, what have I done with my week? I, I'm still promoting the book fairly hard.

The Gospel According to Blidenby. My book of short stories. Because I'm contractually obligated to. And I want to get paid for it too. Because I spent the year writing it for free. So what I've been doing is, on Tuesday, last Tuesday I think, which was Halloween, I did a press day. So I headed up to Dublin for the day.

And I went into Today FM, spoke to Al Porter. That was fantastic. Al read some of my book. Because Al loves being an auditor. He loves reading then I fucked off over the 2FM spoke to Eoin McDermott, Eoin's good crap I just Friday and slipped

crap when speaking about Eoin McDermott Eoin is good crack not good crap, sorry Eoin for the Friday and slip but then I'd like a few hours to kill between RTE and the next interview, which was on the Joe show, which is an online television show on Joe.ie, which was surprisingly good crack. there was a gap of about 8 hours and

my commissioning editor from my book rather foolishly chose to spend that 8 hours by taking me out for dinner and cocktails in a class place on Dawson Street called Perrook and Periwig now I'm not advertising any of these people

they just simply exist in the ether of capitalism and I'm noting their existence uh i'm not getting paid but i went to peru i enjoy peru i like to pop in there anytime i'm in dublin because they um it's just got a lovely environment it's nice and quiet you know and and it's they've got lovely candlelight. And I love cocktails. I adore cocktails. Now, I don't drink that much. Maybe once a week, once every two weeks. But when I do drink, I like to enjoy what it is I'm drinking. My usual tipple is Polish cans.

I love Polish beer. It is fantastic. It's made from three ingredients. And it's straightforward stuff. And it's nice and strong. It's about 6%. And Polish beer is gorgeous my second favourite thing is cocktails specifically Tiki cocktails

and so I went to Broken Periwig and I drank a few Mai Tais and some Zombies which are Tiki drinks and what is Tiki? Tiki is a weird tiki culture

it's this weird thing that happened in America in the 1940s and 1950s it would be what the philosopher Jean Baudrillard called a hyper real simulacrum it's tiki culture is

when the yanks fucked off over the Polynesia, the Polynesian islands during World War II when they were having a crack at the Japanese. When they finished the war, the US Marines and the GIs, when they fucked off back to America in the late 40s and 50s they started to get nostalgic for their their youth spent as you know positioned in the Polynesian islands so tiki culture emerged which were these very tacky bars made out of you know with straw and tiki torches, now favoured by the alt-right, and like, you know, tiki carvings

that look like the Easter Island sculptures, and hula skirts, grass hula skirts, and flower garlands, and Hawaiian music, and a type of music called Exotica,

which is, I don't know, you'd know it if you heard it. 50s kind of exotic music and Bossa Nova, which is from Brazil. But what was so weird about Tiki culture is that they tried to recreate Polynesian culture, not based on facts or research or sensitivity but by the memory the colonial memory of what

the US soldiers had of Polynesia so it became hyper real, a hyper real simulacrum mixed in with American post war capitalism and from this these bars came drinks like the Mai Tai and the Zambi one called a suffering bastard and they're lovely lovely cocktails they're very

fruity and pineappley and passion fr. If they're put in front of me. So. You know. Unfortunately. Many of them were put in front of me. On Tuesday nights. And I ended up getting shit faced. And I had to go and do an interview.

On the Joe show. Which was alright. You know. It's. You know. Joe.ie get a lot of flack. Mostly from me. which was alright you know it's you know joe.ie get a lot of flack mostly from me but

the Joe show you know you'll see if you want to see my interview it's on joe.ie's Facebook page because it went out live if you want to see an interview

of me drunk I had I had an unbelievable amount of crack I loved it I loved the liberation and the freedom of doing an interview

on my ear it was great and the freedom of doing an interview on my ear it was great and the hosts were absolutely sound but what I liked about the Joe show because I'd never really watched it it has the kind of the free chaos of talk shows British talk shows in the golden age of the 90s when you had the likes of, the word, now I don't remember the word, I would have been a sperm, but, I've seen footage of it,

and, TFI Friday, presented by Chris Evans, I do remember that, and you know, yeah, UK TV had this heyday, of chaotic,

talk shows, where they, you know, they had interesting guests, and there was a sense of, anything could happen, and, there was a lovely,

feeling to it, you know, and it captured a zeitgeist at the time um i remember that lunatic sean rider from the happy mondays was on tfi tfi friday once and god help him he couldn't stop cursing fuck every two seconds and possibly a cunt or a gash maybe and yeah they had to create a rule in English UK live television

after Sean Ryder went on went on live TV and cursed so much that they had to create a ten minute a ten minute gap I think

before it actually went live and that was the end of the heyday of UK live television spot it's king king king king yeah that's all right you see that's okay well sean sean has promised tonight to do his best haven't you sure yeah well look i'll let me tell you this if you don't swear tonight i'll give you my shoes all right what do you got you're really gonna ask yourself would you like these shoes uh i find somewhere to wear them yeah hang on patrick cox man and Patrick's the fucking good dad. Patrick makes good shoes man.

Oh yeah, there you see, that was completely natural. It does Patrick makes good shoes man, I'm the cheaper the feeler. You can't do it again because I'm in big trouble if you do. Just get signed on. I do, we all get signed on, we get taken off and everything, we can't have people like Oh, Sean Ryder, you fucking gas cunt. God bless you. He lasted about 20 seconds there before he said the word folk.

Happy Mondays were a good crack, weren't they? They're one of the few bands, really, actually, that managed to include quite a bit of madness and humour in their music. Without getting kind of written off as novelty. Which is one of those things that grinds my gears a little bit about about making music for some reason music is is the only art form that I can think of whereby if you include humor or if you make people laugh that the art form itself is discredited it's discredited as silly. And not having any.

Serious weight behind it. That it's novelty. And. That's one of the struggles that we've always had. When we're making. Music for the rubber bandits. It's like. I mean if you've been listening to our tunes.

You'll know that like. We're serious musicians. We actually give a shit about making decent songs we always see it as uh we make we make music and if you happen to laugh then great but the we're not really comedy music we're music that sometimes happens to be funny but we always get written off as novelty, which, I find a bit, I tell you what pisses me off, all music,

has a degree of novelty to it, right, all music has, a gimmick, to it, you know, you know, even if,

even, you know, Bob Dylan, is taken incredibly seriously, deservedly so, but Dylan has a gimmick, you know. Dylan's appearance of being a serious artist is itself a gimmick that we buy into. A lot of hipster bands, new cool hipster bands that come out, I keep seeing them.

a lot of hipster bands new cool hipster bands that come out I keep seeing them their music and in particular their lyrics are of little substance or weight or meaning but if they've got the right haircut and the right jeans all of a sudden

they appear to have some type of integrity to their work but on investigative perusal. That integrity is non-existent. They're given quite a bit of creative freedom. And. You know at the end of the day.

You're just listening to a band's haircut. Who wants to do that? Who wants to listen to someone's haircut? But yeah. Music is unique like that. As an art form. You know you can write. you could write a book and include loads of humor in the book and yet it is not discredited as an art form as being novelty it's seen as having some degree of weight films you know the work of of unbelievable artists like

the coen brothers you know the Big Lebowski the Big Lebowski is a serious piece of art and it's fucking hilarious yet it is not discredited as novelty Randy Newman who is in my opinion

one of the greatest songwriters of all time and someone that we musically always look up to. He struggles with that too. Randy Newman was always written off as novelty. Because he's got songs like Short People. Which is about short people.

Or a song like Rednecks. Rednecks is... You know, on first listen it sounds like a silly fun song. But it's a very, very, it's an analysis of racism from the point of view of the racist. And Randy Newman was great for that, for using the technique of the unreliable narrator for his songs. A fabulous example of this is one of his songs called Christmas in Cape Town, which is my favourite Christmas song. It's probably my only Christmas

song but it is a song written about South African apartheid from the point of view of the white oppressor and it is a beautifully empathic song you know to be written from the point of view of the racist

and it's an anti-racism song but it allows you into the anger. And hurt. And. The misinformed nature. Of someone of that mindset. And I just think it's nuts. That you know.

That's the angle he went for. Let's write a song about apartheid. While apartheid is happening. Let's make it a Christmas song. And let's. Make it frommas song and let's make it from the point of view of the racist and use quite a lot of racist language in it and it's a great piece of art an amazing piece of work you wouldn't get away with that in 2017 um i just don't think people would get it i don't think that as a. As a straight white male.

Randy would be allowed to. Have that degree of freedom. In what he was doing. I think. His words no matter how empathic. Would be viewed with a. Through a sinister lens. You know.

And Randy himself said that he would like to see. Music and songwriting. Elev elevated to the to the level of the short story that music should be viewed the way that we would view short stories with that level of integrity but for some reason music isn't

you write a song doesn't matter what the melody is the chord progression doesn't matter what the issue is you're trying to satirically dissect if the end result is that people have a bit of a giggle It doesn't matter what the issue is you're trying to satirically dissect. If the end result is that people have a bit of a giggle,

it is novelty music and it's kind of written off as lacking value. And the only answer I can think of is solemnity. Maybe music is as a medium, it tends to maybe touch a very solemn part of ourselves, you know. Music is one of the few mediums too where you will consistently get away with cliche over and over and over again. How many songs are simply written about the love between a man and a woman or vice versa? Every single fucking song. She broke my heart, he broke broke my heart I miss you so much and yet we consistently forgive it we don't mind

we're conditioned into this this feedback loop of songs about I love you so much oh baby baby please come back when will you be back and we don't care

and that's not good enough if you ask me you know why can't songs be about mad shit And we don't care. And that's not good enough if you ask me. You know, why can't songs be about mad shit? That's what I love about Irish traditional folk music. Jesus Christ, there's some mad shit there. The Rocky Road to Dublin by the Dubliners. I don't think they wrote it.

I think it's traditional folk melody. But The Rocky Road to Dublin is a song about some cult she deciding he wants to go to england so he walks to dublin with a stick and then he finally gets to england and then it's like why we why are we going to england to beat the shit out of brits with my stick and that's what that song is about and it's beautiful such a beautiful passionate song so anyway during the week I asked you on twitter to I don't know ask some questions of what you would like

discussed on the podcast specifically I asked what would you like to see subjected to gas contest inquiry so I'm going to read out a few of the questions that he asked and give my opinions on them Terradantil asked

am I morally okay to watch House of Cards obviously in light of all those allegations about Kevin Spacey being a bit of a rat a rat with a long tail for a long time being a bit of a nasty boy not understanding the basics of consent and I don't think any of us

want to financially support abusers do we you know that's the tough one you want to be putting money regardless of how good an artist they are do you want to be putting money into their pockets and I do I separate the person from the art right of how good an artist they are do you want to be putting money into their pockets and I do I separate the person

from the art right first and foremost right the output of someone's artistic talent has no real reflection on who they are as a person but em when it comes to I don't know someone like R. Kelly

I love R. Kelly's music. I just can't stop loving his music. But the man is a pervert and an abuser. And lots and lots of allegations against him. Specifically against kind of helpless, poor black girls. You know, there was a lot of allegations against him that you know people said that certain girls would bring accusations against R. Kelly then the accusations would disappear and that girl's uncle ends up as a bass player on his on his next album bass player in quotation marks

so what I do regarding R. Kelly is I illegally download his music and listen to it that way. And he doesn't get money out of my pocket then, you know. I'll watch the shitty uploads on YouTube that I know aren't monetized. And I'll do that for any artist who I enjoy. Who is a known cunt. Because I don't want to be supporting them. Not financially. Peter Glavin on Twitter asked, How about discussing whether or not the word gowl is cork or limerick slang?

I think it's a cork word. Well, Peter, the word gowl, I don't think it's anyone's word. The word gowl comes from the the irish word gaval which means junction you know so gaol is is it gawal it's a gaelic word however i will say that limerick has a junction called limerick junction and it's called gawal limri uh literally the fanny of limerick so i'm taking it for Limerick Cork has enough shit man you've got em

you've got your economy sorted and stuff you've got Apple load of jobs sky high rent you've got English market you can buy Spanish black pudding and fancy cheeses

we've got nothing let us have gowl please Cork alright Peter O'Riordan asks em why do Let us have Gowl, please, Cork. All right. Peter O'Riordan asks, why do Irish people hate when other Irish people are successful? The begrudging bastards mentality.

I don't know. Is that specifically Irish? You know, Morrissey's got a song. Even though Morrissey is as good as Irish, his name is Stephen Patrick Morrissey, but he's got a song, you know, we hate it when our friends become successful. But begrudgery, I think begrudgery exists because other people's success kind of reminds us of what we ourselves are not doing.

Everyone has goals and things that they want to do. And when other people do well for themselves it reminds us of what we are not doing and what we're you know unconsciously suppressing our own abilities um that's about all i can think of regarding begrudgery it's a strange one isn't this because we can all be a bit guilty of it um i would suggest to you if you are a begrudger catch yourself in the moment doing it and just don't bother don't bother with begrudgery you won't get anywhere with it and it'll lower your own self-esteem a common kind of theme with begrudgery too is if you see somebody you know maybe the irish thing is that if you see other irish doing it, it's like, you know, they're too similar to, they're similar to who we are.

And when you see an Irish person being successful, you know, the common theme is we try to find the reason as to how their success came easily. you know that person is successful because they are related to such and such or because you know they're they're in with rte they're sorted and i think that's what we like to do we like to it's it's we don't want to admit to ourselves that the other person might be successful because they got off their arse and faced their fear of failure and actually went and did it. And the more you begrudge and the more you put down other people for their success, the further away you yourself get from actually realizing your own goals. So have a lash at that, you know, give that a go. Just go, next time you feel that begrudging feeling, go, no, that's just me i'm gonna leave that one off and as i said before people who

people who know what they're talking about tend not to express their opinions underneath youtube comments you know that's just a fact someone else asked can't remember your name I'm sorry what is your opinion on North Korea blind boy I have an opinion on North Korea it verges on conspiracy theory

right but here is my hot take on North Korea right Kim Jong Un whatever he calls himself hot take on North Korea um right Kim Jong Un whatever he calls himself North Korea can't start a nuclear war right they can't because all they have is

you know they've essentially got a nuclear bomb with the technology of a wheelbarrow they have to drop it out of a plane they've got petrol powered ICBMs they'd be finished in two seconds if they took on any modern nation, so they're aware that they cannot start a war

but here's the thing, and I've been looking it up North Korea is a hotbed of cyber crime, right hacking and cyber crime huge amount of it comes out of North Korea anytime North Korea you know test a missile

or announce a new bomb or whatever the fuck the entire world media because they want clicks and they want you know they want clicks from our western fear the entire world media descends on North Korea

to get the newest information on whatever bomb they are building right and quite a lot of journalists have complained about getting you know malware and trojan horses and spyware on their computers when they do it so i think now this is a fucking hot hot hot take conspiracy theory but I think that North Korea are only doing nuclear tests so that they can get

Trojan horses and malware onto western computers so that they can skim bank accounts and steal loads and loads of money and I think that that's not what North Korea are doing because they can't go to war they can't start a war it's not possible

it's a scam to get our money through spyware alright so tell that one to your grandmother that piano is relaxing alright tell me next week if you fucking hate the piano or if you found it enjoyable

or if it added to your listening experience em now I think it is time for me to read a short story I'm going to read you a short story called Scaphism em which is from my book of short stories,

The Gospel According to Blind Boy, which I would like you to go out and buy, please, if you don't mind. God bless. Please enjoy. Rock City, you're the best fans in the league, bar none. Tickets are on sale now for Fan Appreciation Night on Saturday, April 13th when the Toronto Rock hosts the Rochester Nighthawks at First Ontario Centre in Hamilton at 7.30pm.

You can also lock in your playoff pack right now to guarantee the same seats for every postseason game and you'll only pay as we play. Come along for the ride and punch your ticket to Rock City at torontorock.com. On April 5th, you must be very careful, Margaret. It's a girl. Witness the birth. Bad things will start to happen. Evil things of evil.

It's all for you. No, don't. The first omen, I believe, girl, is to be the mother. Mother of what? Is the most terrifying 666 is the mark of the devil Hey! Movie of the year

It's not real, it's not real What's not real? Who said that? The First Omen Only in theaters April 5th The way the bottom of his jeans used to soak up the piss from the floor of the Jacks would bring on that metallic taste on my tongue that I'd get before an epileptic fit. Every fucking Thursday after darts. He'd have those navy denims that you get in Guineas,

with all the unnecessary stitching around the thighs and the arse. They made him look like a giant toddler with a dirty nappy. Every Thursday, lads. Fat Macca and Ernie Colopy would have gone head to head in a vicious tourney of darts. It would always be the two of them in the final. Ernie nearly went professional

if it wasn't for women and liquor. Fine men. Without fail, though, this other fucking idiot would be over for his first drop of harp. He'd drink it in this servile way, where we could all see his teeth through the pint glass. He'd drink his pint like his own pint was telling him to drink it, rather than him telling the pint to get drank. Then off to the jacks, he'd come back out, with an inch of piss on the boot cuffs of his Guineas jeans.

I couldn't go near my partner, because I'd be transfixed on the cuffs of his pants. I'd watch a centimetre of cold piss on denim creep up and darken his trousers. Capillary action. The ability of a liquid to flow in narrow spaces without the assistance of or even in opposition to

external forces like gravity I'd stare at that exact definition on the screen of my Samsung to try and achieve a sense of control over the situation by 10.15pm he'd be on harp number 2 and a pack of scampi fries would be ordered

10.25pm.m. and he was back into the jacks for his second piss. Two inches of dark wet navy up his leg at this point. Other people's piss. He's wearing the feculence of every man in this pub up his fucking leg. Get different trousers man to fuck. The heel of his black leather Gola Tacky would sometimes trap the bottom cuff of his pants leg, so he'd be standing on the end of his own pants. It would squelch. There'd be grains of sand on the soggy denim. From fucking where?

No sand in the jacks of this pub. By 11.20pm, the third piss would be had. He'd be half cut, leaning against the bar, belly hanging out of the cardigan, and the piss buys. The piss would be six inches up his shin. Capillary action, sucking up piss, contradicting Newtonian physics. He never even noticed, and that's what would hurt the most. He didn't even know what was happening to his own leg. Art Nocton and Julie Slattery would notice, because I'd see them staring, but they'd just fall back into their sherries. I'd try to catch their eyes, maybe get some backup. Sort this out. A mutiny, but no. Cowards. At 11.45pm or thereabouts, the

piss would be threatening his upper shin. That's when the taste of metal would arrive in my mouth, like I'd licked a 9-volt battery, followed by a burnt almond sensation and finally bad eggs. When the room would lose its place in time and shapes no longer made sense, that's how I knew I was having the epileptic fit. I'd come around after, and Packy Willie the barman would have tonic water and ice for me with a slice of lemon in it. All that citrus and effervescent quinine would see me right and bring me back. Every Thursday lads, swear to fuck, every Thursday. No one took notice anymore.

No one knew why I'd droop into a fit. No one talked to me about it. No one knew it was because of that stupid bollocks and the capillary action of the piss on his floppy Guiney's denim. At 12.10am, she'd come in off the night shift, and, and stroll over to him.

He'd have the Grand Mariner, and sparkling water, waiting for her at the bar top, and she'd lean in, and fucking kiss him. And the leg of her Garda uniform, would rub the shin of his capillary action piss pants every Thursday. When Anne came in, it meant the doors got locked, and Art Nocton and Julie Slattery could take out their pack of major and smoke indoors like it was 1985.

Packy Willie would turn on the sanyo behind the counter with the six-changer disc tray. Deacon Blue, Jimmy Nail, Shawaddy Waddy, Prefab Sprout, Thomas Dalby, the Style Council, the Communards, Wham, Kajagoogoo! The solo efforts of Lamar from Kajagoogoo. He'd start dancing with his elbows and the belly over the belt and the top of his arse on show, squelching piss britches on the wood floor that had eight generations of varnish and was black. She'd dance alongside him with one of Julie Slattery's majors sticking out of her mouth, I'd dance alongside him with one of Julie Slattery's majors sticking out of her mouth, clapping her hands like Daryl Hall, looking at him into the eyes,

acting like myself and herself hadn't been married for 18 years. I'd sit up, looking at the screen of my Samsung. The battery would go at three, so I'd read the back of a packet of King crisps. At around 5.30am, we'd all clear out. Barney Shanahan would collect them in the taxi and I'd walk home, every Thursday lads. In the winters, I'd walk home in the pitch black, not a hint of light. I'd click my tongue like a bat, that way I'd hear a lamp post if it was near. The sound would bounce back at me. When it's November dark, the slip on the ground underneath, you've to dance with it or it'll crack you open. The cold has such bitter presence that

you can feel your way through it. It has rises and lumps. You can sense the lukewarmth of a hedge. The trail of a panting fox leaves a little band of clammy air that you can grab like a rope and use it to drag your way up a bohrine. In the summer it'd be bright. I hated that. There's too much pomp and show to summer mornings. When it's winter and dark, you can get properly acquainted with your journey. You get its honesty. You get to know its fears, its intentions. There's areas of the Limerick countryside that can't be trusted, purely on grounds of personal integrity.

These are where people fall into ditches or drown in bogs. The area charms that person into their death. It's never accidental. I've walked them all with no eyes. I'd arrive back to the cottage at around eight in the morning. No keys. I'd leave the hall door wide open to confuse the tinkers. That's when I'd be able to relax and have the first drink. I'd be away from the pressures of the pub and the piss britches. I'd keep the bottle of tisky on the window where they'd be cold. This particular Friday morning I couldn't find the opener.

I scanned my belongings to see which one I was willing to risk breaking to open the cap off. Not my Samsung. Not the remote. Not the lighter. Fuck it, it's my only one. Not Anne's hair straightener that she never collected. So I ripped the curtain pole off the wall. Seven foot long, some fulcrum on it. I jammed the bottle of tisky in between two cushions on the couch with a heavy encyclopedia

holding it in place and popped it open with the curtain pole from the other side of the room. Popped off in two seconds, lads. What did I say? Fucking fulcrum. I haven't got a master's in physics for nothing. I had a fine lump of smelly sock hash that I got off the costalos from Palace Green. Hums like black pudding when you burn it into the Rizla. I continued with the tiskies until Judge Judy came on the television. She was talking to young ones who couldn't stop spending money and getting into debt. I'd been meaning to ring Anne's pissed trouser boyfriend for the best part of two years.

I'd been meaning to tell him that I hoped himself and Anne would have good fortune in all their future endeavours. The Samsung was charged. And something about this particular episode of Judge Judy gave me the courage to ring his number. So I fucking did, lads. The phone was ringing. He answered. He was talking to me. I was going to tell him about the epilepsy

tell him how silly it was that I'd be getting fits over his piss pants and how I'd get so upset when himself and Anne kissed while dancing to the solo efforts of Lamar from Kajagoogoo we'd all laugh about it maybe I'd call over for dinner some night fuck it maybe I'd dance with the two of them next Thursday. I'd smoke Julie Slattery's Majors too and clap like Daryl

Hall with Anne and high five himself. We'd all head back to their gaff in Barney Shanahan's taxi, drink Grand Mariner, have a devil's threesome. Why not? Breakfast, dinner and toast. But I didn't. I told him that I'd developed stage three cancer of the esophagus and needed to clear the air. I asked him to meet me by the river in Plassey where we could fish for perch together. In fairness to him, he had no qualms about this and felt fierce sorry for me. I don't have stage 3 cancer in my esophagus at all, though, lads. I left the house with an open tisky in either fist. I had no fishing rod.

So when I made it as far as Castle Connell, I dropped into the spar for a bottle of twine, a naggin' of hosier for the rest of the journey, a litre of milk and a squeezy bottle of honey shaped like a gay bee. At Castle Troy, I found a branch of oak and inserted the twine onto the end of it, threw it over my shoulder. At the University of Limerick, I asked a girl to give me one of her earrings. She lashed it over straight away. Not a bother. Fair play to her.

I put that on the end of the twine like a hook. I had the bones of a fishing rod on me, lads. When I got to the bank of the Plassy River, he was there. Decent enough rod he had too. Got it in Aldi the last time they had a fishing sail. Not that bad at all. Big welcoming smile on him. As I got closer, he doled out his fat hand in friendship. When I could smell his breath, I wrapped the twine around his neck and didn't stop pulling until his eyes closed. He lay flat on the sandy plassy riverbank. Sleepy by. Gorgeous evening. There's a pond a small bit up river

with stagnant water near the little island, very quiet. I carried him up into my arms, pure cradling like, and went there. I tore the fucking ridiculous gynae jeans off him, first port of call, and lobbed them in the river where they'd never give me another fit again. I found three old logs, hollow-bys, great for floating. One under his back, tied his fat belly to that one above his head with hands bound and same with the face getting great mileage out of this castle connell twine gas looking cunt balls naked tied up the logs like a

bachelor at his stag do in Liverpool. Some crack. He woke up when I was rubbing the picnic honey all over his balls and arse. Roaring and shouting he was. So I started pouring the honey down his throat. We wouldn't get disturbed that way. I flaked a litre of milk over him too. This is the best bit though, lads. I gently floated him out into the middle of the pond. Logs doing their job at buoyancy. Feeling proud of myself. Very still water. It was nice and calm. There he was, drifting out. Not one move on him. Eyes up to the sky. Mad bastard.

It was midday. So the horseflies were having a great time with the honey all over his goalies. Now I know what you're thinking. What class of sick bastard comes up with this type of stuff? Who'd do this to their ex-wife's new lad? But they've been doing this for years, especially to adulterers. It's called scaphism. Perfectly legitimate method of execution. Look it up on your Samsungs. Look it up on your Samsungs. The Persians invented it. The flies will bite as he floats on the pond. The longer he floats, the more he'll shit and piss. This will bring more flies. Give it a day and they'll lay their eggs. The maggots will hatch and he'll still be alive, floating gently on his back, all tied up.

The underside of him will get nice and putty like in the water. And Fat Pike will take scalps out of his calves, trying to eat the worms. Maggots eating into him too. Only the soft wet bits though, like the mouth, the dick, the eyes, the nose, the ears and the arse. The maggots will accumulate so much that they'll cut off the blood flow, causing early gangrene to set in. Don't blame me, lads. Blame the ancient Persians for inventing the slowest and cruelest method of death known to humanity. You'd think methods like that get lost in the flow of time.

Forgotten in barbarism, but they don't. Because time doesn't flow it creeps capillary up the universe's leg ignorant of Newton's laws slow and unnoticed by the weak bringing the dark stain of retribution with it I gaze up at the heavens and it gazes back in bold cut jeans and black leather shoes. Terima kasih telah menonton! I'll make you do the move I'll make you do the move

Yes! That was scaphism. Yes. That was Scaphism. A story about murder. And if you enjoyed that story, please subscribe to the podcast, tell your friends about the podcast, and write a little review about the podcast. Please, I'd be very grateful if you did that. Send any questions you have about next week's podcast,

anything you'd like discussed on our Facebook page, Rubber Bandits, or on the Twitter, at Rubber Bandits. Please buy the book, The Gospel According to Blind Buy, which is where that short story first originated. And thank you very much for listening. Thank you very much for listening. Also, someone was saying as well

that they enjoyed the music that is behind some of the short stories that I'm reading out. And they were asking would I release it and I don't know that seems a bit nuts but at the same time

I kind of like it Rubber Bandit's releasing a fucking an album of ambient Brian Eno fucking Philip Glass inspired music maybe I will

I don't know throw it up on Spotify but anyway I'm going to stop trying to sell you shit please go in peace and have a lovely week a lovely morning

or a lovely evening whatever it is you're doing right now listening to this podcast I wish you the very best look after yourself please and I'm going to see you next week

at the exact same time and we'll have a lovely hug alright we'll have a an audio an aural cuddle. All right? Yart. night on Saturday, April 13th when the Toronto Rock hosts the Rochester Nighthawks at First Ontario Centre in Hamilton at 7.30pm. You can also lock in your playoff pack right

now to guarantee the same seats for every postseason game and you'll only pay as we play. Come along for the ride and punch your ticket to Rock City at torontorock.com.