Fame?

Nope, I'm not thinking about auditioning for Louis Walsh's new girl band. I believe those auditions are a front anyway for a grand scale genetic engineering project going on to perfect the perfect looks/ vocals for a pop act and so there's no point in going along. My DNA combined with that of a thousand Tango girls trying to sound like Amy Winehouse might bring about a terrible sweary mutant prompting public outrage and lynching (Shane Lynching?) of Louis in his penthouse apartment by right-minded Irish citizens bearing torches.

So no, I will not inflict this on our society. Aren't you glad I am so public-spirited?

Seriously, the title of this post refers to my having been at a GAA match recently. After the match, while sporting my county hurling jersey I was apprehended by a journalist from my local rag looking for a comment and a picture. This was a great source of amusement to me, family and friends for a few days but now I'm not so sure.

I can't help but think that this picture and my commentary accompanying it is now being peed (and worse) on by non housetrained pets, being used to clean windows or as toilet paper in some of the more backward rural pubs.

It has probably lasted a millisecond longer than the aforementioned girl band are likely to though...