One of my colleagues, in typically sniggery fashion, photocopied a guide to  office Christmas party etiquette and handed it to each of us in preparation for our staff night out, last Friday. And it was …

While the rest of the country enjoys a bank holiday spent on the couch, absent-mindedly picking the sweat-residue from around the buttons on the Sky remote, down in Cork we’re celebrating our annual jazz festival.

With it being a long weekend, we’ve been partying at Swearing Towers, beering and boozing and singing and coming to blows over who was the best Batman. And as such, I’m hungover.

What a shitty time poor Farah Fawcett had yesterday! To be interrupted in your induction into Heaven’s heavenly regiments by bawls of…
“Holy Jesus, is that Michael fucking Jackson?”
“O.M.GEEEE I think it is! Out of the …

I travelled back in time last Friday.
No, not to last Friday. That would have been a bit pointless, going back in time all of three days … unless I’d done something utterly catastrophic on …