The comedian will continue his national tour of My Dad Was Nearly James Bond by taking to the stage in Galway as planned on that date.

Bishop`s father Michael passed away on Friday after a 15 month battle with lung cancer. The former actor  (74) was the inspiration behind his sons new tour.

Grieving Des posted on his Facebook page on Friday: “Mike Bishop ‘snuffed it’ this morning. He lived an amazing life.

“A great father, husband, uncle and friend. Cancer got him in the end but it never got him down and these last 15 months have been some of the greatest side.

“To our family he is the greatest man that ever lived and to all his new fans he is a legend.

“He was happy to have his big break right at the end.”

However speaking today Bishop said “the show must go on as it was my dads wish”.

 All postponed dates will be rescheduled and ticket holders are asked to contact venues directly for further information on the rescheduled shows.

Everyone in Ireland knows about Des Bishop. He’s an American/Irish comedian who makes jokes about G.A.A. and immersions and other exclusively Irish things. He learned Irish a few years ago and made a nice little series about it. He’s always seemed pleasant and articulate.
I read this review from The Guardian a few weeks ago. It’s a review of Des’s show which he premiered at the Edinburgh Festival entitled “My Dad Was Nearly James Bond”. I’d heard about the show but hadn’t had a chance to see it or read too much about it but this review conveyed such a sense of strength and emotion about the content of the performance I planned to go and see it this week in Dublin. Unfortunately Des’s father died and the show has now been postponed.

A documentary based around the creation of the show aired on RTE last week. It has some absolutely beautiful footage of Michael Bishop and the wonderfully positive way he chose to live the final months of his life. It’s funny, devastating, interesting, then funny again and ultimately just made me think of my own Dad and the ridiculous transition that occurs when you become “parent to your parents”, as Des puts it. Here’s a link to the documentary, My Dad Was Nearly James Bond.

Published Date: December 30 2010, Leinster Leader

Most comedians are a laid-back sort. OK, so some of the iconic firebrands of the medium, such as Bill Hicks and George Carlin, are well-known for their rather angry and often aggressive take on life but, most, these days, rely largely on a laid-back, if energetic, approach to comedy. An approach that they often carry with them off stage. Des Bishop is one of these. Talking from his hotel room in Limerick he speaks quietly and articulately about his father’s fight against cancer and his current show that deals directly with it. That is, until the subject switches to something a little less personal.

Comedy rap duo The Rubberbandits were the topic of a pretty heated debate on the RTE radio show Liveline recently, the main bone of contention being that their latest song Horse Outside represents Limerick in  a poor light and – with its repeated reference to drug abuse – is a bad example for children.

Bishop was actually asked to appear on Liveline to defend the Rubberbandits but turned the invite down, not wanting to add any further publicity to assinine argument. His biggest complaint about the show was that giving equal air time to both sides of the argument meant it seemed like this was how the country was divided by the song, that they were evenly split, when “in actual fact the majority of the people were calling up in support of the Rubberbandits”. This view seemed to be backed-up by the duo’s appearance on The Late Late Show on Friday when sanity prevailed and there was no adverse reaction from either audience or host.

The reformed alcoholic was also incensed by host Joe Duffy’s insistence that you can’t compare alcohol with cocaine, because alcohol is legal.

“Yeah reckless lending was f**king legal too” Bishop says, “it doesn’t stop the fact that it has destroyed the country.”

Quickly taking up the charge he races into a veritable  smack-down on alcohol and the problems it causes.

“Anyone with five seconds of research on Google will show you that alcohol, of all the mood altering substances, causes the most pain in this country. Like hands down, there’s no comparison”, he says, speaking with the fire he usually reserves for the stage. “Alcohol related deaths beat any other drug four or five to one. Not to mention that, I believe, it beats all other drug related deaths by about two to one. But don’t get me started,” he says, a bit too late. “That’s like my favourite subject.”

Bishop is no stranger to radio controversy himself, most notably after his documentary show Joy In The Hood was screened in 2005. The programme featured the funnyman running comedy work shops in impoverished areas of the country. Much like the complaints against the Rubberbandits, some claimed it represented certain areas of the country in a bad light, particularly Knocknaheeny in Cork. He clearly thinks this an unfair complaint against the show, but is philosophical about the critisism. ”Whatever, you’ll always get that.”

The American is currently in Limerick touring his latest show, My Dad Was Nearly James Bond, which played to sold-out audiences in the Riverbank on Tuesday and Wednesday of last week. While comedy is often personal and involves turning observations on your own life and those around you into something universally funny, rarely is it as private as Bishop’s current show. His father was recently diagnosed with lung cancer. Instead of ignoring the issue on stage, Bishop has created a show that talks directly about the illness, mixing both humour and pathos.

“It is an emotional show, it’s deliberately emotional”, he explains. “It’s not always funny but the emotional parts make the funny parts stronger because you appreciate it in the context of what’s going on, the stuff that really matters, family and looking after people.”

Bishop was in New York, where his father still lives, when he got the news and was understandably initially reluctant to perform a show specifically about the illness.

“I hadn’t intended to talk about it but my father had said some darkly funny stuff about death and dying and I happened to share some of those things on stage, mainly because I had nothing else to really talk about and people happened to really like them.”

He had always intended to talk about his father’s life before the younger Bishop was born – his dad was both an actor and a model – and so both ideas were merged into one show.

Dealing with the death of one’s parent is, of course, a pretty tough thing for anyone  to come to terms with, but sharing that experience with a bunch of strangers while trying to make them laugh has all the potential for an emotionally turbulent experience. Has it ever been too much for him on stage?

“It was at the start”, he says. “It was difficult in terms of the stand-up comedy part of it but it was never difficult emotionally. The only time it was ever tough was the first couple of times I used pictures throughout the show. A couple of pictures kind of hit me, but more from nostalgia. You’re talking about some emotional stuff.”

Bishop’s past experience writing a show about illness – he was diagnosed with testicular cancer in 2000 – gave him the belief that talking about cancer could be funny, though he is quick to point out that this show itself is not strictly about cancer and  more about how the disease affects those around it.

“There’s not a lot of jokes about cancer.  It’s really more about how illness affects a family than the illness itself. That’s why it’s easy to talk about… the dynamics of the relationship from when you’re a baby to when you’re a teenager, and you think your parents are annoying, to when you become an adult and you have a huge appreciation for your parents, to that ultimate road change when you become the caretaker of the people who always took care of you.”

Des Bishop plays the Arklow Bay Hotel, Arklow on January 13. Tickets from 040 232309.

Look how I persevered to write this post...

Author Catherine O’ Flynn, interviewed in the Antiroom Blog recently, is a woman after my own cold heart. She mentioned ideally having the heating on in her house for 10 months of the year. Bliss! It’s probably just as well I don’t live alone in my own house. It would be a hermetically sealed unit, with not so much as a molecule of fresh air being let in. The central heating would be on full blast from day break ‘til sun down. On both health and cost grounds I couldn’t possibly live here if left to my own devices.

Other (non-scientific) proof of female frostiness;

Dual control electric blankets – surely designed with freezing women and their less chilly partners in mind?

In my case, my (naked) husband’s control panel for his side of the new blanket sits unopened on the bedside locker, mocking me in my frozen-ness.

Coat sales. How many men – compared to women – do you know that own a full winter coat?! I think it is neither coincidence or a fashion statement that vast multiples more women than men buy winter coats. As far as I can see, men of a certain vintage, principally those attending race meetings and rugby matches, are some of the relatively few male purchasers. Tom Dunne wrote in his column recently that he reckoned shirt-clad men outside pubs didn’t feel the cold because they were smokers. No Tom, it’s because they are men.

Women naturally have higher levels of fat cells than men. They’re for childbearing don’t you know. Eh, thanks for that, Mother Nature. But even this, or the extra-stubborn post-baby layer, doesn’t shield us from feeling cold.

So why are so many women so freezing?

A quick Google search produces the following;

Women generally have less dense muscle mass than men do, which lowers their average body temperature.

Women can be more prone to thyroid problems – an underactive one apparently can leave you intolerant to cold. But I have also anecdotally heard of women only dying to hear this diagnosis, it also being a reason why some cannot lose weight. ( Hurrah, something to blame other than too much wine and too little walking…)

But I also have some of my own (less scientific) more colloquially based theories;

The Immersion Factor; I grew up in the (comedian) Des Bishop-esque era of home heating. It might just have a lasting effect on a body. Heat turned on in individual rooms, being ‘kept in’ in case it escaped, like a rabid, wild dog. Check this out if you haven’t seen his take.

He also does a hilarious piece about trying to score Irish girls in his dingy Irish bedsit, having to push the super-ser up to the edge of the bed, with the cailin in question undressing under the duvet, all the time shivering “ but I’m freeeeezing !!! ”

Irish Weather. My German friend, who has also lived in Norway, put it best.           ‘ My country is colder, but this Irish damp really gets into your bones ‘ . Y’ see?? It’s just a more invasive cold we have here. I think Frank McCourt was on to something. Incidentally, she thinks all Irish people cough, and says her children never coughed ‘til they reached these shores. I find this most interesting. And for another blog post perhaps.

So that’s it then. My genes, my gender and my country are all against me. I’ll just have to go on f-f-f-reezing my sorry, extra-layer-of-fat, Irish, female ass off.

A Man Apart - Written for FEST 16th July 2010

In 2008 Steve Lambert punched a journalist. The journalist in question, Chris Wilkinson, had refused to participate in The Factory, Badac Theatre’s controversial Holocaust piece that sought to give its audience an immersive and near-real—too real, some suggested—experience of the Nazi gas chambers. Two days later Wilkinson was assaulted on the street.

Lambert’s PR has told me that it isn’t appropriate to ask him about this, and while it’s true that the incident occurred two years ago, there is still an obvious undercurrent of violence in Lambert’s attitude to theatre. While others deem it appropriate to work with young people at The Pleasance through mediums like rap as a means of expression, Lambert is “much more into the idea of getting them into a room and getting them to punch the fuck out of their energy and just see where it goes”.  I’m not sure it’s going to go well.

As Wilkinson himself has said, this is not the first time that an artist has attacked a journalist for a critical response to their work, but with statements such as “Without violence we have nothing” on Badac’s website, Lambert’s case seems more serious. But this doesn’t seem to sit true to the man sat in front of me in 2010, although the signs are there that this obsession with aggression hasn’t disappeared: “a lot of theatre is about a repression of violence. You can’t repress something that isn’t there. I just choose not to repress it – I choose to explore it.’

What is never in doubt as we speak is that he demands complete commitment from both his company and his audience; when you come to him you have to do so with utter heart and soul. It is a holistic approach that was fostered in Poland. After a few frustrating years as a jobbing actor and three interesting ones as a bookie, Lambert hopped on a bus at Victoria and ended up in Warsaw. It changed his outlook on theatre permanently. “You all of a sudden realise that theatre is actually a craft. Here it is viewed as a vehicle to go onto telly, to go onto other things but [there] the training is that you’re learning a craft that is like a life long thing, that you’re always going to be learning a craft.”

Lambert returned and was quickly bored with the “kitchen sink drama” around him. Wanting to create work inspired by Jerzy Grotowski, the innovative Polish director, he set up Badac. He was never going to compromise. “If you’re setting up a company, I wasn’t going to do it on anyone else’s terms.” Physically and psychologically demanding, Badac’s intense style comes from a suitably “extreme” source: Antonin Artaud’s The Theatre And Its Double, the bible for half the radical playwrights of recent decades. “The very first chapter is called ‘Theatre and The Plague’ and all of our work is about me trying to understand that chapter.”

It’s all beginning to sound a bit militant but he surprises me: “I know it’s not everyone’s thing. I’ve got nothing against comedy or musicals – it all goes into the tapestry of theatre.”  So you don’t think that everyone should think the way you do then? “No but it is about saying to them we’ve created something. Either join it or don’t join it.”

He seems to be aware that he’s seen as an artist whose ego is out of control and is at pains to show that nothing could be further from the truth. “I think that with some of the subject matter that we tackle if you approach it as a vehicle to sell yourself it’s not going to work. It will be very superficial and have no depth.”

It is this belief that drew Palestinian poet Ghazi Hussein to a company known more for its physicality than its lyricism. Hussein was repeatedly imprisoned and tortured from the age of 14 for being, as I am told, “guilty of carrying thoughts.”  In 2009 he approached Lambert after seeing The Devoured, Badac’s equally harrowing although slightly more conventional one-man show at last year’s Fringe. “He liked the fact that our work really tries, whether it fails or succeeds. Nevertheless it goes in with an energy and a commitment and an honesty that we’re trying to do it, we’re trying to our nth degree to bring this out and show his words.”

The Cry uses poems Hussein wrote in prison, but will still very much be a Badac show. “The way we’re approaching it is the energy and drive behind it more than it being as a poem. A couple of them are delivered as screams, a couple of them are delivered as pleading. The emotion that actually created it is more important than the text itself. People talk about light and dark, the way you’ve got to have quiet moments and loud moments. But to me you can move that barrier up and you can have completely intense theatre and it will have different levels. Its just that those levels are really high.”

Whether all this will work remains to be seen. But Lambert’s audacious company certainly stands out in the comparatively safe Edinburgh program. Wilfully confrontational, his work assaults theatregoers’ sensibilities in a way few companies would attempt. Let’s just hope no journalists are injured this time round.

Bunny – Written for FEST 12th August 2010

With writing credits that include Skins and Shameless, Jack Thorne is known for writing snappy lines for disenfranchised teens. Quick, clever and encased in an urban poetry that both delights and resonates, he packs each sentence with a punch. No word is wasted, no repetition accidental, he has a track record of crafting pithy dialogues and Bunny is no exception.

Brought to Edinburgh by lauded new writing theatre company Nabokov, Bunny is a dynamic production of a sharp text. Rosie Wyatt’s Katie bounds into vivid and jabbering life in front of a cartoon background that mirrors her story frame for frame. Jenny Turner’s guileless illustrations and Ian William Galloway’s deceptively low-fi video design echo both Katie’s childish energy and adult knowing.

In a breathless metropolitan drawl, Katie describes an accident with an ice cream that leads to a manhunt. We watch as she slips down a rabbit hole through a sequence of remarkable occurrences. Thorne’s skill is to make each choice both the stuff of fantasy and totally acceptable; you are complicit with Katie through each decision and judgement.

Wyatt is engrossing as the lost girl at the centre of this journey. She is a bundle of teenage confidence and insecurity; one moment she’s a woman, the next a child, she plays each inflection of Thorne’s script beautifully.

There is a tangible undercurrent of desperation in Bunny that raises the stakes at each stage of this adventure; everyday situations take on the mantle of cruel victories and with a thrilling potency, the ordinary becomes extraordinary. 

Flamenco Without Frontiers – Written for FEST 16th July 2010

Listening to Paco Pena’s softly lilting mellifluous Spanish tone it is hard not to feel transported to a place of warm contentment.  But whilst this virtuoso of the flamenco scene wants to create sensuous music, he is also determined to prove that this melodic artform can be used to discuss social issues too “If you’re honest with yourself you can’t ignore certain things, it’s not that I have a political point to make but I love people, wherever they come from. Flamenco is a legitimate form of music, which has a lot, or rather combines a lot, of elements from different cultures; it is a music of people. If there is a problem right in front of me, my music is moved.” 

There is a fluidity when you speak to Pena that verbally matches his technical elegance as one of Spain’s most brilliant guitarists.  An eclecticist who has taken his solo performances from the hot coasts of Costa Brava to full blown theatrical explosions that infuse the echoey spaces of Carnegie Hall and the rounded vaults of the Royal Albert Hall, Pena has never been one to sit on his laurels.  His new piece for the Edinburgh International Festival, Quimeras, continues in his exploration into the possibilities of this traditional Spanish musical style.

“I never wanted to be a solo guitarist at all, I just wanted to participate in the whole flamenco scene – I’ve always loved the singing and the dance” Indeed for a lauded soloist Paco Pena charmingly seems to bypass any egotism constantly reference his fellow artists and collaborators; he is a participant in a much larger act.  This holistic artistic interest is just one of the things that Pena shares with his collaborator on Quimeras, Artist Director Jude Kelly. It is a partnership that has born a number of shows, with their Flamenco Sin Fronteras currently playing at Sadler’s Wells.  A powerful mixture of music, dance and stage play, their work sweeps a strong warm Spanish breeze into the air conditioned British stages playing host to The Paco Pena Flamenco Dance Company this summer.

A passionate believer herself in the potential for dialogue between artforms the collaboration is a fruitful one “Jude Kelly can sense and feel my ideas in a way that she then makes her own and she interprets [them] in her own medium which is the staging of them” Although the initial inspiration for a project undeniably comes from Pena it is also a fully developed dialogue between the two “…we talk a lot, she suggests things like any director would do in order to highlight what I’m thinking, she doesn’t interfere but her contribution is very sensitive and very musical; she communes very strongly.”

At a time when immigration is at the top of the European political agenda the timing of Quimeras could not be more perfect.  Pena speaks passionately about the right that immigrants have to try to make a better world for themselves and their families, sadly noting that their dreams often turn out to be false, crude and tragic “[Quimeras] will try to bring to life the journey of one or several of these people, creating situations along the way that reflect good and bad aspects of their dreams, the reality of their lives and the interconnection with the people on the other side of the frontiers they cross.”

It is a subject that has been with him for a long time “I grew up in a place where a lot of immigrants have passed by so I have been immersed in it for all my life.” Pena grew up in Andalucia where the proximity of north Africa meant that there is always an intense traffic of people crossing in one direction or the other. At 6 years old he began to learn the guitar and after 6 years of “soaking in everything musically that I could” he was performing professionally at 12.  After a productive period working in Spain in the late 1960’s he moved to London; it is a move that he counts has being one of the most important parts of his career “…because I have been out of Spain so much I have been exposed to unexpected artistic propositions and activity in the arts”. 

Many of these opportunities have allowed him to take flamenco music to an audience previously unaware of its existence outside of a Spanish construct (he once played on the same bill as Jimi Hendrix).  It is a process of enlightenment that has worked both ways “…[so whilst] you project your roots and culture in this music you are sharing…at the same time you have been enlightened by so much that you see around you that gives you an edge over someone who hasn’t been out in the world in the same way.”

It seems clear that this cosmopolitanism has given his music this elusive edge over others.  Even in the face of his indisputable expertise it seems it is his passion for bridging flamenco with diverse musical genres (including classical, jazz, blues, country and Latin American) whilst maintaining a healthy respect for it’s traditions that is the real reason for his success “It is because I am constantly moving forward, I never sit still…I’ve done many shows so you push ahead with your ideas and then they inevitably become more ambitious and accomplished in style”. 

He chuckles “It is also probably because I am very old!” There’s the trade mark Pena humility again.

Bo Burnham – Written for What’s On Stage 15th August 2010

My ex-girlfriend used to have a fetish where she dressed up as herself and behaved like a complete bitch all the time.’ Simple but blisteringly sharp this is only one of the insights from the desperately cool world of Bo Burnham, a 19 year old prodigy (his words) of the You Tube generation.

Like a Dadaist poet, Burnham’s understanding of the potential alchemy of random association is inspired. Words, Words, Words incorporates Songs, glitter, Haiku, triangles, dog jokes, torn newspapers, sardonic silences; each moment is tightly choreographed whilst giving the sense of free falling through Burnham’s subconscious. With pitch perfect deadpan delivery he’s not afraid to face awkwardness as well as laughs which adds an edgier performance art feel to his set.

For all this his tools are fairly traditional. A series of comedic songs and punchy one-liners, he’s working within conventional structures. It’s all the more wonderful then that he’s creating something so unique from them.

Keepers – Written for What’s On Stage 16th August

Keepers is a sweet tale of two Thomas’ who have taken on the mantle as protectors of sailors against the capricious whims of a roaring ocean. Set in an isolated lighthouse The Plasticine Men’s whimsical production details the touchingly symbiotic relationship between the two men.

With the aid of only a light, two chairs and a ladder, director Simon Day has masterfully crafted ingenious ways of representing both the cramped conditions within this tiny fortress and the enormity of the floating enemy outside.

Performed with physical flair by Martin Bonger and Fionn Gill, the central relationship at the heart of this story is infused with an palpable tenderness. Lawrence Williams’ sound design is outstanding, as is the level of synchronicity between performance and sound.

Keepers perhaps loses its way towards the end, but this is a genuinely touching show, given to us by all involved with infinite care.

Decky Does A Bronco – Written for FEST 12th August 2010

“I am the master! I am the master!” Decky pelts after Chrissy, his erstwhile arch-nemesis/best friend, looping a giant rope round his head. David watches on with amused irritation whilst Barry looks contemptuously at the lot of them. He is nearly in secondary school, after all, and the rest of this motley crew are a mere nine-years-old.

This is the world of Decky Does A Bronco, a vivid, dangerous, playful space that is slowly penetrated by the violent adult reality which encompasses it. A set of swings forms the focus of these youngsters, a monument to their prowess in the great art of “bronco-ing”. To bronco is to jump off a swing at great speed looping the links over the frame – a right of male passage in this Scottish council estate.

The physical prowess of the cast is cleverly underplayed but clear for all to see. Our boys clamber about the swing frame like monkeys, each ascension a victory, each bronco a badge of honour.

Douglas Maxwell’s play is now beginning to feel a bit dated. Created by Grid Iron in 2000, the central story of a tragically shortened childhood was probably more of a rarity then. Now it feels predictable.

Performed in a park, there is a rawness to Decky Does A Bronco that mirrors its external surroundings; you couldn’t cage this in a proscenium arch theatre. Frustrating then that its narrative should seem so traditional.

Beautiful Burnout – Written for FEST 18th August 2010

In a festival more renowned for its breadth of choice than its universally high standards, the National Theatre of Scotland is as close to a sure-fire bet as you can find. With worldwide hit Black Watch tied neatly under their belts, they have teamed up with movement specialists Frantic Assembly to create the masterful Beautiful Blackout, a sophisticated and thrilling look at the world of boxing.

Set against the backdrop of strict guru Bobby ‘I’m God’ Burgess, Beautiful Burnout follows five boxers as they go from ordinary street nobodies to masters of the ring. Bryony Lavery’s script offers an insight into the dynamic world of amateur and pro boxing, charting each power play with an envious lightness of touch. 

She revels in the glory and potential glamour of the sport with poetic monologues that carry tones of religious devotion. This is mirrored in Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett’s luscious movement sequences performed against the pumping orchestrations of Underworld. It’s an exhilarating performance, if a tried and trusted story of the tragedy implicit in such a violent world.

The cast are at their physical peak and there is a palpable sense of bodies being pushed to their limits and back again. But Lavery’s easily anticipated plot gives them little to play with in terms of emotional muscle, falling instead into two dimensional stereotypes, with the show’s conclusion feeling frustratingly overwritten.

It all looks and sounds incredible, however, and for all its predictability, Beautiful Burnout is a holistic feast for the senses.

Des Bishop – My Dad Was Nearly James Bond - Written for FEST 22 August 2010

‘Hurricane Higgins is dead. Last photograph of the People’s Champion.’
I had to stare at the picture for several seconds before I recognised Alex Higgins. He was lost in his overcoat and looked 90. It was shocking to see the man who had once been a twitchy, aggressive ‘hurricane’ looking as if a breeze could knock him over.
Tributes were cued up. ‘Hero’, ‘maverick’, ‘legend’… and eventually nostalgia snookered common sense. Higgins wasn’t a hero. He was a very good snooker player who, for a while, rose above humble beginnings but ultimately returned there. He was a gouger who had once threatened ‘Mr Nice’, Dennis Taylor. His life was a string of run-ins and scraps. He was a sad mess. He was loved by his fans, but he was no hero.
The obituaries recalled his hellraising. We like to make heroes of our hellraisers. Harris, Behan, Lynott: all heroes, because they had the whiff of sulphur and booze about them. What’s heroic about being a charismatic drunk?
That said, Higgins will probably have a statue raised to him in Belfast – just as Boyzone’s Stephen Gately is to have one raised in his memory in Dublin.
Gately was not a hellraiser, but he was charismatic. Like Higgins, he came from a humble background. Like Higgins, he used his talents to become famous and has been called a hero. This was for ‘coming out’. He inspired other gay men to do likewise.
His friends had wanted Docklands railway station to be named after him. Instead they got a statue. There are many others who deserve statues before Gately. Does being a nice guy from a boy band really merit one? Maybe, but I’m not totally convinced.
The Gately memorial formed part of the silly season talk last week about renaming places after Irish heroes. Fianna Fáil want to rename Dublin Airport after Sean Lemass.
[Imagine the Yank tourists: "Gee honey, where are we?"
"Lame-ass airport, honey."]
There was a debate about renaming Cork’s airport after Terence MacSwiney who starved himself to death during the War of Independence. Two other names that have been mentioned are Rory Gallagher and Christy Ring.
These memorial debates show how the lines between heroism and fame have become blurred in celebrity-obsessed Ireland. How can hurling a ball or playing guitar be more noteworthy than sacrificing your life as MacSwiney did?
Heroism is not defined by what you say, how well you play sport or sing. It’s defined by what you are willing to lose.
There were two good examples of real ‘everyday’ heroism in the papers last week.
The first emerged from an Irish Times interview with comedian Des Bishop whose dad, Michael, is dying of cancer. He’s based his new show, My Dad Was Nearly James Bond, on his life.
Bishop described how Michael had been a model and an actor, getting parts in Day of the Triffids and Zulu. He was even asked to audition for James Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. He had the kind of fantasy life young men dream of.
Then, when Des was born, Michael turned his back on fame. He knew that acting wouldn’t provide a steady income for his family so he became a retail manager.
“He gave that up to raise us in a stable way,” says Bishop. “That is so much more heroic than any nonsensical James Bond, celebrity thing.”
It struck a note. Des’s dad is a hero for sacrificing his dream. Heroism isn’t found at the end of a snooker cue or a microphone or a lens. It’s found changing nappies when it could be sipping a vodka martini. Everyday heroism is about giving yourself up for the benefit of others.
The second example of everyday heroism came via Facebook. I got word that a hero of mine was celebrating finishing chemotherapy. Her name is Marie Carberry and she has been fighting breast cancer. She writes a diary about her experiences in the Evening Herald. It’s brutally honest and very moving. It’s also very, very funny. Here’s an example:
“‘Excellent, excellent,’ the oncologist murmured. I would like to say he was talking about me as a whole package, but he was actually talking about the workmanship of the surgeon who had carried out the mastectomy…”
Marie’s decision to write about her cancer is, presumably, part-cathartic. That doesn’t undermine her bravery. When Jade Goody chose to film her cancer battle she was pilloried for it. Cancer, despite our general enlightenment, is still taboo.
Marie’s sacrificing of her privacy will have helped many people facing into a similar situation. She’s bared herself to educate others. No amount of maximum snooker breaks or CD sales can compare with that. She won’t ever have an airport named after her. A statue’s unlikely too. (Sorry, Marie.)
With this in mind, I’ve decided to dedicate this column to her instead. Statues are placed on columns, so we’re halfway there, Marie. It’s not much, but it will exist in cyber space for a few years. Someone’s bound to come across it in the future and read the following words:
‘Marie Carberry: you’ll never be a snooker champion and I don’t know if you can hold a tune, but you’re a hero.
‘A real hero – whether you like it or not.’

dkenny@tribune.ie

August 1, 2010

On Saturday night last I had the pleasure of attending a warm up show for Des Bishop‘s appearance at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.

The gig took place upstairs in The Twisted Pepper in Abbey St, Dublin, a nice little room, cosy, and intimate for an audience of about 50 people. As it was Saturday night too, everyone was ready for a laugh.

I’m not going to gove away any of Des’ jokes from his show, ‘My Dad was nearly James Bond’, that wouldn’t be fair. What I will say is that Des takes the topic of cancer and somehow manages to make us laugh, despite the subject matter.

The show is funny, nostalgic and what I loved about the warmup was, occasionally Des let his onstage guard down to show a softer human side, something we often forget about these funnyguys.

Des gave away tickets for the event on Twitter (where I got them) and on Facebook. A great way to get ready for Edinburgh and in these broke times, a free night out. Tickets for a full Irish tour are on sale now.. go see it.

Thanks Des, best of luck in Edinburgh.

I just saw Des Bishop’s new show “My Dad was nearly James Bond“. He’s launching it at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival during August but he wanted to rent a crowd in Dublin this week to sharpen his routine. He tweeted this on Wednesday and by Friday I was in the Twisted Pepper along with about 30 other people listening to him the life story of his dad and Des’s relationship with his parents now that his dad is sick.

The show is not your typical comedy show. Get the low down in this Irish Times review. He deals with not so funny themes like cancer, death, nostalgia, regrets. But he spices it up with all sorts of stories and pictures of his dad, Michael Bishop.

As it was a preview show, it was pretty laid back and informal. Des was pissed by all the distractions which made him lost his train of thought or just plain angry. First there was the open skylight which was dripping rain on the seats. So the barman comes in and Des starts talking to him as Gaeilge. Bhí sé as an Ghaeltacht Rinn i bPort Láirge.  Then there was the 3 front row lads with the Scientology masks. Best of all was this guy who appeared at the room entrance, watching the show while waiting for the toilet. Des told him to piss off as it was a show and the guy answers “But I’m not inside.” Like hell he was…he was eventually show the door. In his face.

This show makes you think. About the big things in your life. Family, life, your future, your past. The message is “no regrets“ - get out there and make the most of life. Not a bad idea at all.

The entertainment will be kicked off by Des Bishop, David O’Doherty, PJ Gallagher and David McSavage who take to the stgae throughout the weekend along with 59 others from Ireland’s vibrant comedy scene.

The schedule of events is as follows:

Thursday 23rd July Gates 6.30pm

Iveagh Theatre		Magic Mirors Palace		Carlsberg Comedy Carousel		The Shack
7.30pm €29.50 Des Bishop Leo Allen MC Dermot Whelan		7.30pm €29.50 David O’ Doherty Maria Bamford MC Damian Clark		7.30pm €29.50 PJ Gallagher Karl Spain MC Paddy Courtney		7.30pm €23.00 David McSavage James Goldsbury John Colleary MC Aidan Bishop
9.30pm €29.50 APRES MATCH present The River Tenors & guests Dr Cocacolamcdonalds & Wilson Dixon		9.30pm €29.50 Jason Byrne Todd Barry MC John Henderson		9.30pm €29.50 Andrew Maxwell Eugene Mirman MC Eric Lalor		9.30pm €26.50 Maeve Higgins Jarlath Regan MC Patrick McDonnell

Friday 24th July Gates 6.30pm

Iveagh Theatre		Magic Mirors Palace		Carlsberg Comedy Carousel		The Shack
7.30pm €29.50 Jason Byrne Jason Manford MC Willa White		7.30pm €29.50 David O’ Doherty Bo Burnham MC Andrew Stanley		7.30pm €29.50 Des Bishop Maria Bamford MC John Lynn		7.30pm €29.50 Colin Murphy Neil Hamburger MC Andrew Stanley
9.30pm €29.50 APRES MATCH present The River Tenors & guests Dr Cocacolamcdonalds & Wilson Dixon		10.00pm €29.50 Andrew Maxwell Hans Teeuwen MC Bernard O’ Shea		9.30pm €29.50 John Bishop Todd Barry MC Colum McDonnell		9.30pm €29.50 Maeve Higgins Eugene Mirman MC Leo Allen

Saturday 25th July Gates 2:00pm

Iveagh Theatre		Magic Mirors Palace		Carlsberg Comedy Carousel		The Shack
3.00pm €29.50 Andrew Maxwell Jason Manford MC Eric Lalor		3.00pm €26.50 David O’ Doherty Wilson Dixon MC Damian Clark		3.00pm €29.50 Jason Byrne Hans Teeuwen MC Bernard O’ Shea		3.00pm €23.00 “Young, Gifted & Green” Carol Tobin, Keith Farnan, Gearóid Farrelly, MC Willa White
5.00pm €29.50 International Comedy Club 10th Anniversary Celebration Des Bishop, Aidan Bishop & many special guests		5.30pm €29.50 John Bishop Jack Whitehall MC Gerry Mallon		5.00pm €29.50 Ardal O’ Hanlon Todd Barry MC Barry Murphy		5.00pm €26.50 Karl Spain Tom Stade MC Sue Collins
7.30pm €29.50 The Stars of Whose Line Is It Anyway? with guest Sean Lock		8.00pm €29.50 Phil Nichol Kevin Gildea MC Neil Delamere		7.30pm €29.50 Maeve Higgins Bo Burnham MC Eleanor Tiernan		7.30pm €26.50 Maria Bamford Joe Rooney AKA “Batty Ryan” MC John Colleary
9.30pm €29.50 Colin Murphy Tim Minchin MC Dermot Whelan		10.00pm €29.50 PJ Gallagher Reg D Hunter MC Jarlath Regan		9.30pm €29.50 Neil Hamburger Eugene Mirman MC David McSavage		10.00pm €29.50 Paddy Courtney Leo Allen MC Patrick McDonnell

Sunday 26th July Gates 2.00pm

Iveagh Theatre		Magic Mirors Palace		Carlsberg Comedy Carousel		The Shack
3.00pm €29.50 Des Bishop Tim Minchin MC Michael Mee		3.30pm €29.50 The Stars of Whose Line Is It Anyway? with guest Sean Lock		3.00pm €26.50 John Bishop Wilson Dixon MC Karl Spain		3.30pm €23.00 Phil Nichol Jack Whitehall MC David McSavage
5.30pm €29.50 Jason Byrne PJ Gallagher MC Paddy Courtney		6.00pm €29.50 Colin Murphy Bo Burnham MC John Lynn		5.30pm €26.50 Reg D Hunter Maria Bamford MC Joe Rooney		6.00pm €23.00 “Not also, but only” Live Comedy Literature with Mark Doherty, Jeremy Dyson, Barry Murphy & Ian Coppinger, Kevin Gildea, Maeve Higgins, Jarlath Regan
8.00pm €29.50 David O’ Doherty Todd Barry MC Eleanor Tiernan		8.30pm €29.50 Tom Stade Eugene Mirman MC Neil Delamere		8.00pm €29.50 Ardal O’ Hanlon Neil Hamburger MC Leo Allen		8.30pm €23.00 Andrew Stanley’s Comedy Mish Mash with special guests Reuben & Colum McDonnell

A happy Dunphy is finishing on a high as ratings for the show increased by over 20,000, from 240,000 to 263,000 listeners.  He has met luminaries such as Des Bishop, Neil Jordan, Sonia O’Sullivan, Michael Colgan and Eddie Hobbs amongst others. 

Miriam O’Callaghan is to add another star to her status as she takes up the Saturday slot with the conservatively and similarly entitled ‘Miriam Meets…’.

Des Bishop - Excuse the noise; there was very little light so I had to take this at an iso of 1600

Woo hoo! I made it to day 100!  Thanks to everyone who continues to read and very very seldomly comment.  lol  please dont be afraid to leave a wee message.  I wont bite .

I felt unbelievably stressed today; In fact its the most stressed I have felt since I probably started BT, and its all been because I am trying to get my resit coursework finished for this friday.  Now it is the hardest fu^&*ng coursework I have ever had to do and I dont think im going to get it finished which means Im going have to sit it again in January.  Its really getting me down and all I need is 40% but I dont even think im going to get that!

Anyway, tonight I went to see Des Bishop the comedian spout a few words at the local irish community centre and he was hilarious.  Ive watched two of his TV series and tonight he didnt dissappoint.  In fact half of his show was in Irish and although I only have cúpla focal I was able to follow it a hell of a lot better than I thought.  He ended the show with his trademark Irish version of House of Pain’s – Jump Around (aka leim thart) which was absolutely hilarious.

Im absolutely shattered and Ive got my MOT in the morning for my gorgeous ’93 Nova so wish me luck .

Ná bíodh aon imní ort, you can listen here i102104.ie over the weekend

Go raibh míle maith agat Séamas Ó Máirtín for coming in and answering all your questions.

Go n-éirí leat!!

Let me know how you get on.. Thar cionn I’m sure

Anyway, Des Bishop’s documentary In the Name of the Fada has been following the Irish-American as he attempts to learn the Irish language; and judging by last Thursday’s programme, Des has more Irish than about 75 per cent of the population. Fair  play to him… or should that be féarplé? If anything, the programme strikes you as to how bloody easy the Irish language is and how bloody difficult the education system makes it seem. Des did the Foundation Level Irish and proclaimed that if, after 14 years of learning a language, you are reduced to matching words and pictures in an exam there is seriously something wrong with you.

But could it be that this series can spawn a hit single? As part of the programme, Des enlisted the help of a friend to translate, yep you’ve guessed it, Jump Around. The result? Well, take a look yourself. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Léimigí Thart…

More :: Download Des Bishop’s Léimigí Thart

More :: Watch In the Name of the Fada