Russell's Latest Rants And Mary's Latest Movements

"To be a poet and not know the trade,
To be a lover and repel all women;
Twin paradoxes by which great saints are made,
The agonising pincer-jaws of Heaven."
- Patrick Kavanagh, "Sanctity"

By Charley Brady

Oh come on, he's one of my favourite actors but let's be honest here: nobody ever accused him of not having a fuse that's as short as Nicolas Sarkozy's height.

You will definitely have heard by now about Russell Crowe's latest blow-out, but since he has a habit of adding to the gaiety of nations when he is off-screen it is well worth going over it just one more time.

Russell, I have loved your stuff since "Romper Stomper" way back when, where you played the violent Australian nutcase, but sometimes I've just gotta ask you, mate: did you forget to come out of character after that? (Yeah, I know you're from New Zealand.)

I'm not saying anything about "Gladiator" since I think everybody was crazy about that movie. And as to playing an overweight (slightly, of course) long-haired journalist in the excellent "State of Play", well I had to see that for obvious reasons. I've gotten myself convinced that you looked a bit like my dear self.

I even liked "A Beautiful Mind" but - whoa! - what happened to that beautiful mind on your interview with Mark Lawson on his BBC radio show last week when you threw a complete 'hide all the mobile phone' fits because he was kind of wondering about that semi-Dundalk accent in "Robin Hood"?

Did you ever hear about laughing things off? Bloody hell, I had to admire Lawson's bravery for having himself locked in a booth with you when you were being interviewed on the subject of "Robin Hood" and he came out with: "The accent that you've given him, there are hints of Irish, but what... were you thinking in those terms?"

Gulp! A "what do you mean?" might have been appropriate, not: "You've got dead ears mate, you've got seriously dead ears, if you think that's an Irish accent... B******s!"

Now don't be shy, Russell, say what you really mean:

"No. I was going for an Italian, yeah, missed it? F*** me!"

Then you stormed off, waving your cigarette in the air.

Now I know you have a habit of losing the rag with people so hats off to Mark Lawson. Just to show you that I am equally brave I want you to know that I have an address somewhere in northern Alaska. Nowhere near that rather hot but barmy Sarah Palin, though.

Jeez, that would be as scary as living next door to you, Russ. I mean she goes out and shoots moose and stuff, doesn't she?

You've got to get in touch with your inner female gladiator, man.

I know that you don't dislike the Irish since you threw another wobbly when you picked up your Bafta a few years back.

You went ballistic when they wouldn't let you finish your quote from the Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh, whom you are an admirer of (see above and I'm quoting from memory so don't come barging in swinging a club if I got it wrong. That's all I need in my life right now).

Your friendship with the late Richard Harris of Limerick is also well known. All I'm saying is to take a few deep breaths and chill out for a bit.

And Lawson? Well done on hiding all the phones.

Which leads me not too subtly into a kind of a link here...

Our beloved Minister for Justice, Equality and Reform Dermot Ahern is seeking, through his Communications Bill, to allow the snoopers of our Big Brother government to keep your Internet history on file, as well as your phone records.

Those beauties at the tax office - you know, the ones who can't seem to nail the big money white collar criminals, but are hell bent on nailing the small guys - don't even have to suspect you of doing anything illegal.

Jeez, it's bad enough with the Garda able to do this without giving the same "right" to the bloody Revenue Commissioners.

Let me repeat that: you don't even have to be under suspicion of criminal activity.

They just want to have all this information in their slimy records.

It is into the final stage of being passed, folks, so it's just one more reason to be afraid... be very afraid.

Now I'm aware that the rights of prisoners take precedence over the rights of the innocent, but I must admit to being a little bit on the shocked side last week to see that the Christmas bonus for criminals who are banged up in jail is to be stopped and replaced with something called "hardship cash".

Dermot Ahern, needless to say, defended this - well, you didn't think that prison was supposed to be a punishment, did you; you can imagine how the Human Rights Brigade would squeal about that one - but Catherine Byrne of Fine Gael said:

A lot of people would have been even more angry last December if they had realised that prisoners were getting this money while senior citizens and some of the most deprived on the outside were having theirs abolished.

"There is no doubt that people on social welfare who were refused the traditional double payment last December felt they were shafted.

"An awful lot of people had come to depend on the Christmas bonus."

Catherine, Catherine, come on; get with the program. Those were people who hadn't committed any crimes, not the ones who are inside and still able to use their illegal mobile phones to their heart's content.

Well, how else do you expect them to run their drug empires from jail?

Do remember last week that I said I was thinking of getting myself banged up so that I could enjoy three square meals a day and watch my free television? Well, it's looking more attractive to me all the time.

Our secret police wishing to keep your Internet browsing history on file leads me into an even more tenuous link to the next piece. What the hell, I'm shameless so here we go.

Even the Virgin Mary needs the Internet these days. Now don't start waving your little claws in my direction and calling for me to be tried under Ireland's wonderful Blasphemy Law because I'm not the one that's saying it.

No, Ireland's favourite mystic, visionary and seer, Joe Coleman is back in the limelight; and you better believe that he doesn't like to be out of it. (Although he often DOES look like he's out of it. Know what I mean?)

Now, the sight of Joe's phoney pompous face as he sways around with his rosary beads hanging out of him may have some of you sinners - and me - reaching for the nearest cattle prod; but he has a hell of a lot of loopers, sorry that should have read followers hanging on his every word and believing that he has a direct line to the Blessed Virgin Mary.

That Lady seems to have a lot of time on her hands of late as she never seems to leave poor old Joe alone.

She's always at him to announce that she'll be putting in an appearance at Knock Shrine in County Mayo or something.

I wouldn't mind, but thousands turn up and then she doesn't even have a backing group. Not only that, but she's invisible to everyone but Joe!

That hardly seems to be fair after you've shelled out good loot for the petrol or the coach fair. Still, Joe has a lot of believers willing to travel to see him gazing in rapture. Mind you, so do David Icke and Bono but let's not go there.

Well, Her Ladyship recently put in an appearance in Joe's living room in Ballyfermot, Dublin to announce - yep, you guessed it - she would be appearing once again at where the 19th Century Apparitions allegedly took place, this time on May 11th. Honestly, that woman has had more farewell appearances than Frank Sinatra.

I'll say one thing for the Blessed Virgin Mary, though: She's a heck of a good timekeeper.

The Catholic Church, who quite honestly seem to think that Coleman is a bit of a chancer for some reason, had asked him to respect the reflective nature of the Apparition Chapel, so there was poor old Joe left outside while one of his female groupies led the crowd in a rousing few decades of the rosary.

Right on the stroke of two p.m. - JUST AS JOE HAD PREDICTED - there appeared the Blessed Virgin.

Now when I say appeared what you actually saw was Joe clutching his side (where the spear went into Jesus, I suppose) and beginning to cry.

As he later reported the BVM was alternatively crying and laughing along with him. Typical. Just like every bloody woman I know: a bit on the hysterical and irrational side.

This went on until 2.20 sharp when Joe announced that the Lady would be taking a ten-minute break. Well, we are talking 2,000-years-old here. You're entitled to get a bit tired.

Then, like clockwork, back she came right on the stroke of 2.30 whereby down on his knees once more goes the bold Joe, tears running down his face.

Honestly, that man must carry a giant box of hankies everywhere and go through more kneepads than Monica Lewinsky.

Oh, and the message? Well, the BVM will be announcing that on Joe's website very shortly. We all have to cope with a changing world. You don't get away with just appearing to a few peasants these days. We're not in Fatima anymore, Toto.

Seems a bit unfair, mind you, to the old dears who don't have a computer but there you go: moving in mysterious ways and all that.

I better get off to say my confession but if I'm not hit by a bolt of lightning then I hope to see you all next week.

Same bat-time!

Same bat-channel!

You can reach Charley at chasbrady7@eircom.net