Obamania hits Colorado

The Democrat Convention gets underway today, and Obama is all geared up to widen the gap between himself and an increasingly distant John McCain.

Obama is concentrating on making his status as a hard-working father and husband from a typical American famly work in his favour with voters by having his wife, half sister and brother in-law speak on the opening day of the Convention in Denver.

He will also be using this opportunity to appear before Democrats with his recently announced VP candidate, Joe Biden. Obama will surely use this opportunity to reinforce his own strengths as a man in touch with the people, as well as highlighting the strengths of Biden, particularly his experience in relation to foreign policy, an area in which McCain has been showing a lead in polls over Obama. Hopefully, the strengths of Biden will dispell any doubts about Obama’s judgement and lack of experience, and show that he has made a wise choice in picking someone with the experience he needs to truly have the whole package necessary for the Presidency, and the White House.

In the meantime, McCain and the Republicans have been busy with their negative campaigning against Obama. McCain is well-documented in his criticism of Obama’s lack of experience, as well as his attitude toward finances, education, Iraq and issues such as abortion. His latest attack on Obama has come in the form of advertisements, criticising the Senator for leaving Hilary Clinton off the ticket and choosing Joe Biden, and for being a celebrity candidate. McCain has however said though that Biden is a strong choice for VP. This hasn’t stopped the Republicans from using ads with old footage of Biden saying he didn’t think Obama was ready for the White House and that the White House is not the place for ‘on the job training.’ Well, I think Obama has proved himself, and continues to do so. And right now he is doing a much better job as a potential leader than the old man who won’t even use a computer and who got where he is by marrying into money. If McCain’s stronghold was the war veteran card he kept playing, then he could see that stonghold crumble under his grip with the addition of Joe Biden to the Democrat ticket.

Up next is the Republican Convention, so for his own sake I hope McCain has got some positive aspects of his campaign hiding up his sleeve, because if the Democrat Convention goes to plan in a swing state like Colarado, the Republicans will have to pull some serious punches to halt the Obama-Biden juggernaut.

I look forward to all they have to offer…Say, has anyone else noticed that Obama Biden is only a few letters off Osama Bi-nla-den? if you’re afraid of the unknown : Vote Republican!!

Let the bounce begin. GObama!!!!!

The Lovely Girls Festival 2008

As another long, wet summer draws to a close, it is time once again for the finest tradition in all the land : The Rose of Tralee International Festival. Paddy Powers have the odds at the ready (Cork is 3-1!), Centra have stocked up on share-size boxes of Cadbury’s Roses, and Newbridge have carefully crafted 27 contemporary takes on the medieval torque, weighing about 2 stone apiece, to adorn the necks of the young ladies. We will judge them, oh yes. We will look at how they stand, their dresses, their breathing, listen to their stories – indeed every move will come under scrutiny, for the title of loveliest girl in the land is nothing to be sniffed at.

A couple of months back I wrote of my own brush with lovely girldom when I took part in the Cork Rose competition. While not quite making it to Tralee (robbed) I did have an amazing time being a Rose, and met some cracking girls altogether. But alas, my lovely laugh was not quite lovely enough, so it was back to the uneventful, unsexy world of academia for me. I still wear the sash sometimes you know, around the house when I do the washing up, just to feel like a princess. Joking. But seriously.

Seeing as I’m leaving Ireland in a few weeks and I actually took part in the festival this year, I am even more excited than usual about the Rose of Tralee, and I’ve been glued to it every year since I was old enough to say ‘whaaat is she wearing?’ So my plan this year is to watch the first night of girls in front of the telly with a few friends, a box of chocolates and lots of tea. Then on night two I’m heading to Tralee to experience the festival for myself. I’m reliably informed by one of the locals that the best fun of all is to be had out around the streets, watching the live music and the fireworks, and that only ‘the posh people go into the dome. Wouldn’t be seen dead in there!’ I agreed via text wholeheartedly, as I whimpered and put my ‘one west-coast-cooler-for-the-lady-sandals’ back into the bottom of the wardrobe and took out my ‘mind-the-cow-shit-when-you’re-lepping-in-the-street’ pumps.

Nevertheless, I am excited. Apparently the atmosphere is great and why wouldn’t it be? The offies open late for the occasion, drinking in the street is allowed, and then the entertainment just kind of swells around you. I am looking forward to my last bit of old-fashioned Irishness of the summer before I head off for a week in the sun on Thursday.

Wherever you are planning to watch the Lovely Girls this year, I hope you enjoy it!

Me with some of the other girls at the Cork Rose 2008

The Triskel Cafe Bar

If you live in Cork and enjoy a nice cup of tea and a sit down, you might be interested to know of a little discovery I made today. Looking for a nice place to have a bite to eat and some tea, we stumbled upon the new cafe in the Triskel, tucked away in the little lane behind the Long Island.

I am not normally one for shameless raving and plugging and, what’s more, I am usually loathe to share hidden gems with the masses, but seeing as the Triskel Cafe Bar is both new and lovely, I feel it is my duty as a citizen to spread the good word.

The first thing we noticed when we passed the outdoor tables, the beer-stocked fridge and the twee decor is that it really didn’t feel like we were in Cork anymore. The advantage of being off the main street is that you are sheltered from all the hustle and bustle. We ordered some hot baguettes (goats cheese – with added chicken – they let you mix and match) and sat down. The tables are adorable with old-fashioned floral oil tablecloths. The chandeliers are adorned with teaspoons and teacups. The music is soft and folky. The lighting is good. Also, maybe due to the location, or the fact that the cafe in its current form has only just opened, it is nice and quiet, and you don’t feel you are in any kind of rush to finish your lunch.

The food is tasty in a lunch-time-sandwichy way. Good goats cheese always gets the thumbs up from me, and it was particularly tasty, as was the chicken. The chicken is free range, the bread is from the nearby Alternative Bread Company and the cheeses are all sourced from various farmers’ markets by the owner of the cafe. The fresh food, bold flowery tablecloths and unmatched cutlery all give the Triskel a real country village cafe feel, which is really something when you consider it is in the centre of the city.

The side salad wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world. It was basically lettuce. Also, they make all their yummy looking desserts on the premises in the morning, but storing them uncovered on a table next to the door meant there were a few flies around. But these are things I imagine will get ironed out when the place has been open more than 3 days, so it didn’t take away from the experience for me.

The best thing about lunch in the Triskel Cafe is definitely the tea part. We were in for quite a treat when the waitress emerged with three china teacups and saucers (each one different), little shortbread biscuits and a big blue china teapot. To make it all the more lovely, the tea was made using tea leaves. I love tea leaves.

After a very satisfying cup of tea and a hearty lunch, we finally felt ready to brave the charming August rain and weave our way back into town.

If you’re in Cork and looking for a nice cup of tea and a sit down, pop over to the Triskel.

Because we need the eggs…

I watched two of my favourite movies the other night. First I watched the wonderful Annie Hall, probably to this day the best film on relationships between men and women I’ve ever seen. I then watched Four Weddings and a Funeral, a film that satisfies my strange penchant for Hugh Grant films, despite the ghastly character/performance/presence of Andie McDowell.

Back to Annie Hall. I love it so much. But it does make me a bit sad when I watch it. Seeing two people kind of fall into being together, and then watch as something that you’re not sure they should ever have had together develops, then falls apart, and then becomes something really really significant to both of them makes you think.

I was sitting smoking a cigarette on the front step afterward and I had a thought. What if I’m as bad as Alvy Singer (or any other Woody Allen ‘character’) at relationships? It is a serious possibility. My destiny could be to meander through life trying not to fuck up too much, before eventually dying alone thanks to my lack of affinity with cats.

You see, I think relationships really are funny things. I mean, how often do circumstances, mood or timing (or level of inebriation) lead us into something, and before we know it, we are in a relationship we had never planned or envisioned happening? And then, it’s all down to us to work with the raw material… Sometimes, you do just fall into something without even realising it, and then you can’t imagine not having it. Then, when it is gone, truly gone, and you move on, you can’t imagine being there again.

Annie Hall makes me see how this can happen. I fall for ideas of people in my head all the time. A great post I read by Annie Rhiannon made me smile. It reminded me of those times when you see someone and a story in your head makes you think for a fleeting second that they could be your soul mate. It’s not a real voice most of the time, just a subconscious narrative that makes your toing-and-froing a little bit more interesting from time to time. But sometimes, when you are in a whimsy of day-dreaming, imagining an odd hypothetical fate, someone catches you unaware and asks you out. Then, you have a something. And I suppose it’s real. You know nothing about each other, but all of a sudden all your concentration goes into the other person and finding out about them. Then your trusts, fears, hang-ups, opinions and crutches become magnified by a giant lense pointed at you by someone who is deciding whether you can make the jump from potential sex-partner to possible-dating person. Or if you get rellegated altogether to one-off mentaller. I think about this stuff, and have a constant inner monologue, which is why I worry about my lack of affinity with cats…

I like Annie Hall because I like the characters. They are flawed, obsessive, neurotic, charming and interesting. They’re not perfect, but you want it to work out for them. You feel like they’re as bad as it all as you are, and they’re what your hope is riding on. When it ends, it’s sad. Because you realise that people like Annie and Alvy are good people, flawed people, people who try hard, people who make mistakes. They are like you. And you were rooting for them the whole time. Then, to make things worse, you watch Four Weddings and watch that adulterous posh American slut come in and mess Hugh around for an hour and a half, steal the love of one (awesome) woman’s life (Kristin Scott Thomas) and ruin another woman’s wedding day in the process. And she gets a happy ending when she turns up (in a trenchcoat without a scrap of make-up on i might add) to his wedding, spoils everything and then turns up (unannounced) at his house hours after he got decked by the girl he left at the alter. And then she says that awful line…Bitches like her are just the type to be standing in the lashing rain and not even notice. I’d probably get splashed by a muddy puddle as Hugh sped past me on his way to see that curly-haired harlot, or struck by lightning as I rang the doorbell.

But we keep going. We look (and when we do we won’t find, it’s the law), we give up (then it comes…), we are oblivious (when it is staring at us like a giant doe-eyed puppy), we try (all the wrong things), we fight (about nothing), we say sorry (without understanding why), we make up and give it another go (without understanding why), we break up (and down), we move on (and start again), we swear we’ve learned our lesson (we haven’t.)

The last lines of Annie Hall really hit the nail on the head for me when it comes to relationships. Woody Allen is narrating and he talks about meeting Annie about a year after they split up for good: I thought of that old joke, y’know, the, this… this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc, uh, my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.” And, uh, the doctor says, “Well, why don’t you turn him in?” The guy says, “I would, but I need the eggs.” Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y’know, they’re totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and… but, uh, I guess we keep goin’ through it because, uh, most of us… need the eggs.

Lesson for Life #2 : Never be a Hired Goon

If comic books, movies, television and cartoons have thought us anything, it’s that hired goons/nameless henchmen always suffer the worst fates of all. Whatever about the main villains of the piece, these guys get a really raw deal. They don’t die with particular dignity or ceremony, and they don’t die for any goal or point. I mean, at least with the majority of Bond villains, they died at the hand of the best spy on her majesty’s service, having being foiled in their missions to blackmail the western world/destroy London with a nuclear missile/run smuggling operations and so forth. They weren’t shot in the back of the head while unloading a crate of stuff they didn’t own in the middle of the night for someone they’d never met.

Sure, from the evil villain’s point of view, it’s great. As C. Montogomery Burns puts it, “I prefer the personal touch you only get with hired goons.” Sure, it’s great to have henchmen do your bidding, but it’s not so much fun when you are the uncredited, unnamed, faceless henchman.

I’m not saying for a second that you need to enter a life of warmongering, embezzlement, extortion or general nihilistic terror. But, if you do choose that path, or on whatever path you do choose, stick to your principles. Set your own goals, do what you’re good at, leave your mark and keep your honour. Never be the hired goon when you can be the hero or the evil master.

Here are just a few examples of ‘goon hiring’ shows out there that back up my theory that it’s no fun being a hired goon:

1. The Joker’s Hired Goons, Batman.

Throughout the ages of Batman, all the villains have had henchmen to carry out their dirty work. Whether it’s being ambushed while unloading crates in the middle of the night, being shot by your boss, or being made to fight for your life with another hired goon with half of a broken pool cue as a weapon, being the hired hand of one of the Dark Knight’s enemies ultimately ends badly. I chose the Joker because his brand of master villainy in particular places little value on the lives of the hired help. From setting all his goons up to kill each other on a bank job, to making former mob gorillas fight for a place on his goon-roll, to ramming a pencil through the head of a member of the mob, Joker constantly comes up with new and creative ways of undermining his workforce and the workforce of other Gotham criminals. Even with these tactics and the low morale of the Gotham scumbags, he still managed to get all of the Gotham mob to shift allegiances to his side when he became the main man of Gotham. And they had to wear stupid face-paint.

Lesson : goons are forced to work for psychopaths in risky conditions with very little job security. Embarrassing uniforms also a downside.

2. Doctor Evil’s Private Army, Austin Powers : International Man of Mystery.

Ah, the human, vulnerable side of the hired goon. In a few touching scenes in this spy spoof movie we got to see exactly how the families and loved-ones of a henchman are affected by the careless disregard for their lives by their employers, enemies and the writers of the films and books in which they feature. When one hired henchman is run over by a steam-roller, we witness the heart-wrenching phone call to his mother, and the moment when she has to break the knews to her young son, Billy, that his big brother, Steve, was run over by a steam-roller and would not be home to play catch with him. As if that’s not enough emotion for one film, another hired henchman’s life is senslessley and prematurely lost when he is decapitated by a tank of ill-tempered, mutated seabass. This news is received with dismay and shock by his awaiting stag party.

Lesson : Being a hired goon puts your loved-ones at risk of having their world torn apart, and because you’re of no consequence, neither will they be when you’re gone. You won’t be remembered, and neither will they when it comes to compo time.

3. The Foot Soldiers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

The masked, trained foot clan that faced off time and time again against the heroes in a half shell worked for the evil super-mutant baddie, Shredder. At one point, Shredder considered making these highly skilled mercenaries a bit smarter, but he tried it with a prototype and it turned against him and tried to overthrow him. He realised that they should be deadly, but ultimately, stupid in order to serve him adequately. However, the problem with this was that they were all pretty much as thick as horse manure and ended up getting their heads kicked in by the turtles on every outing. It was probably better for them, in retrospect, that their faces were hidden. Getting your ass handed to you by 4 giant sewer turtles when you’re supposed to be a trained ninja soldier is pretty feeble.

Lesson : If you’re a hired goon, the man (in this case Shredder) will always try to keep you down. If he doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else will. You’re setting yourself up for failure.

So, just what is it about the nameless, faceless soldiers who work hard, but ultimately have no goals that makes them such likely candiates for early retirement into the shark tank in the sky? Well, there is a lot to be said for fighting spirit. Some of these hired goons may be well-trained, but they just don’t have the determination and courage of heroes, or even of super villains. Their cause isn’t their own, and it shows in their work. Don’t let that be you.

As famous British spy Nigel Powers says to a henchman of Dr. Evil in Austin Powers, Goldmember:

Do you know who I am?

Henchman: [nods] Nigel: Have you got any idea how many anonymous henchmen I’ve killed over the years?

Henchman: [nods again]

Nigel: I mean, look at you. You don’t even have a name tag. You’ve got no chance. Why don’t you just fall down?Go on son.

[henchman falls down]

There you have it really. The guy with the charisma, wit and confidence overpowers the goon. What a surprise. It’s all about mentality. If you see yourself as a goon, others will too. And it’s not just in the world of crime of doing the work of evil, but in all walks of life. Would you want a goon doing your taxes? Would you want a goon teaching your kids spellings and algebra? Would you want a goon being president of the United States? (That may be a weak example.) But still, there’s nothing cool about being a hired goon. Stand tall, don’t work for anyone whose name starts with ‘The’ or contains the word ‘death’, don’t wear a mask and don’t let it happen to you.

Only in China…

… would the organisers of the biggest sporting event in the world and high-up members of the Politburo come together before the opening ceremony to shatter the dreams of not one, not two, but three little girls.

It has emerged that the little girl who sang as the Chinese flag was brought in to the arena at the Olympic Opening Ceremony was miming. Not only was the cute 9 year old miming, but she was miming to the voice of another little girl. The other girl, aged 7, won a competition to sing at the event, but was considered to be not very easy on the eye by one of the officials form the Chinese Politburo and the creative director and his committee, and so was replaced by the prettier child.

The pretty girl who mimed at the ceremony, and the real singer, inset

The one who did mime has been giving interviews to all the major Chinese newspapers since she shot to stardom as the adorable (but quite obviously lip-syncing) star of the Opening Ceremony in Beijing last week. There were obviously questions about why she kept giving interviews, and as it turns out, the poor mite thought she was actually singing, they just turned her mike off.

It seems bad enough that they told one little girl she wasn’t pretty enough to be on the telly, and told another little girl that she couldn’t sing, but there was apparently a third 10 year old girl who was due to sing but although she had a nice voice and was pretty, it was decided that she was too old and not ‘cute’ enough.

It’s like playing Goldilocks and the three little girls. This one’s too ugly, this one’s too old, this one’s voice is too crap…mmm this hybrid is juuuust right.

I suppose it’s not really been a good day in the eyes of the Chinese government unless you’ve lied to the world and made a few children cry.

The Olympics : One World, One Dream, Lots of Madness

After all the hullabaloo and drama in the lead-up to the games, finally, the Olympics have started. The opening ceremony today was memorable, to say the least. With everything from flying torch-bearers, to giant firework-footprints, to human calligraphy pens to giant digital waterfalls surrounding the stadium, the bits that I saw seemed to live up to everyone’s hopes and expectations.

At the same time, I kind of just want the sports to start. Don’t get me wrong, it’s all very entertaining and China has got a beautiful, artistic cultural history. It’s just, when you’ve seen 2,008 electric flashing-light drummers doing Tai Chi, you’ve seen them all really.

Still though, you have to hand it to the Chinese : A dictatorship with over a billion people, but they sure know how to put on a show. It’s all very bizarre. And I don’t just mean the opening ceremony…

We have been hearing more and more reports from Western journalists, students, bloggers and tourists that access to the internet has been severely limited in the lead up to the games, following the Chinese Government going back on promises that it would not restrict access.

In other news, the level of pollution in Beijing is over three times the target level of air quality as set by the World Health Organisation. It’s even above the target level for developing countries.

Jacques Rogge, the head of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) says not to worry though. He reckons that the giant mass of dark fog hanging over Beijing might just be caused by “humidity” and poses no threat to the health of competitiors. Apparently ‘fog’ and ‘pollution’ are different.  So rest easy.

When China reneaged on its promises of unfettered internet access, Rogge agreed to this and came out in support of the progress China was making.

When China’s handling of its air pollution problem led to dangerously high levels of smog in Beijing at the beginning of the Olympics, Rogge entertained the possibility that it might just be the humidity.

He also praised their handling of the pollution problem.

So apparently the best way to handle a country who blatantly doesn’t give a fig about what the rest of the world thinks, and just does whatever the hell it feels like, is to use your indoor voice and just agree with everything they do, because they are clearly mad. That’ll learn them. That’ll learn them good.

Despite the criticism Rogge has received from journalists, human rights groups and supporters of various competitors, he has ploughed on without really taking any notice of what outsiders have to say. A popular stance, this Olympic season.

At this moment, I think the majority of people, myself included, just want the athletes who have worked so hard to get the most they can out of the 2008 Olympic Games. The spotlight should be on them now.

But as for the Games being a commentary on how far China has come, or how well China has co-operated with the IOC, I think the see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil attitude of the IOC illustrates that anyone who believes that true progress has been made is living in a land where everyday is filled with flying men with torches and giant flashy footprints and flying neon dancers inside a giant bird’s nest…

The Club Brasserie

I went for a meal in The Club Brasserie, on Lapp’s Quay in Cork, the other night. I’m always looking for good restaurants in Cork, and it’s worth bookmarking when I find one. The Club Brasserie is one of those places that is superbly located, with a view of the Lee and City Hall from the boardwalk on Lapp’s Quay, and has a really good menu, nice staff and pretty decor while still being reasonably priced. This is hard to find, so I figured it was worth raving about.

We had a table booked for 8, but stopped in at Kudos in the Clarion for a pre-dinner cocktail first. The waiting staff were very polite and friendly when we arrived, and didn’t seem at all annoyed that we were a few minutes late. Granted, it was a Tuesday night and we were the largest party in the restaurant but still, things started out on a nice note.

The people at Club Brasserie were attentive, without being annoying. They took our drinks orders, kept our breadbaskets full, our serviettes replenished and made sure everyone knew all the specials (i.e. – all the things you want in a waiter) yet weren’t hovering or doing that classic thing they always manage to do to me of asking me how everything is when my mouth is full of food. And one of them said my dress was nice. So a giant tick next to them then.

The food is obviously an important factor, and the food at the Club Brasserie is delicious. To start, a couple of us split the Calimari and the feta cheese and lamb salad. The calimari was really good and came with a mildly spicy cocktail sauce dip. The lamb salad was just beautiful. I would go back there alone just to sit at a table outside and eat that salad. Salads are not supposed to taste that good. Something about warm cheese and strips of juicy lamb is just so right.

For my main course, I had the seared brochette of lamb with baby potatoes. The lamb was gorgeous, and served in a sweet, fruity sauce with mint sauce on the side. Something about the sauce just worked really well with the meat. I love lamb anyway, so it wasn’t hard to sell me on lamb skewers. But it was pretty good.

Most of the rest of my unadventurous friends opted for steaks. All feedback was good, except for one friend who ordered medium rare and got a very well done steak. I have to say though, at €19.95 for sirloin and €26.95 for fillet steak, it was great value and people certainly seemed happy with what they got. When you go out and order a steak, you clearly want a big hunk of meat and a big pile of chunky chips, and the steaks at Club Brasserie did not disappoint.

Two of our party went for the pork belly. I tasted this and it was fantastic. It was also monstrous. Definitely a job for more than two people or a rotweiller or a bear. Seriously though, there is nothing like a good bit of stuffed pork and this really really was good. We nearly had to bring down the tone of the evening by asking for two prying boards to get my friends out of their chairs and to the pub afterwards, but it was worth it to see the contented, sleepy and uncomfortably full looks on their little faces.

As for dessert, they were out of baked Alaska, much to the dismay of one or two of our party. But they did have a scrumptious Eaton Mess (meringue with cream and berries all messed up) and several other lovely things that we definitely didnt need to eat but enjoyed nonetheless. One of our party ordered cheesecake but ever got it, but seeing as he was one of the people who had the pork belly, this was probably for the best. They did bring me an Eaton Mess with a birthday candle in it which was lovely.

Just a special mention for the location and setting. The restaurant is located just on the banks of the Lee and has a beautiful view of the City Hall, which is beautifully lit at night. The interior of the restaurant is fabulous too, almost resembling an old-fashoned French salon. The high ceilings and chandeliers are a nice touch, but not too over the top. The lighting in the restaurant is just right with low lighting in the foyer and at the bar, and huge windows, along with the chandeliers, to keep the tables well-lit. The Club Brasserie would be a great spot for an early eveing bite to eat and glass of wine, with table outside where you can watch the world go by, or for a slap-up meal for any occasion.

Overall, between the vino, the prosecco, the yummy food and the pleasant people and surroundings, the Club Brasserie was a very pleasant dining experience and one anyone looking for a nice place to eat in Cork should definitely check it out.

Ireland’s Next Top Model

According to the Indo and the Herald, it looks like there’s going to be an Irish version of Tyra Banks’ world famous show, America’s Next Top Model.

 

The first issue with I have with this concept is captured beautifully in the first line of the Herald article:

IRELAND’S top catwalk queens may be in for some stiff competition before the year is out.

This whole idea of searching for Ireland’s NEXT top model is a bit problematic. Whose shoes will they be filling exactly? In America, Tyra Banks – one of the most famous supermodels in the world - is the mentor and judge for the girls. In Germany – the legendary Heidi Klum is the one to whom the aspiring young ladies can look for guidance. Slightly pushing it, Britain have chosen Lisa Snowdon. While hardly ‘top model’ material, she did go out with George Clooney for a very long time, which in fairness, does give her some grounds to tell the rest of us how it’s done. Who have we got lined up for the job? Well, it’s rumoured to be Andrea Roche, former Miss Ireland. So everything that Tyra has been banging on about for the last 10 seasons about the competition being a search for a model and not a beauty pageant queen is out the window then. But hey, I’m sure the big wigs in charge of the project know what they are doing…

…After all, the company set to bring Ireland’s Next Top Model to our screens is none other than Screentime Shinawil, the same people who brought us You’re a Star and Popstars. I mean, it’s not like they’d allow someone who didn’t know what they were talking about be a judge on the show, is it? That would be like putting a failed popstar turned glamour model and Fair City reject in charge of advising and selecting new up and coming popstars… oh wait, eh…. Okay, it’s not like they’d pour loads of time and money into a show and then have the result be a completely misjudged, mismanaged flop, no..they’d never do that..would they?…

I can just imagine what the Irish version of the show would entail:

Challenges involving cow-milking: “As a top model, you have to be ready to get to grips with any scenario and be a professional.“

Photo shoots in the Galtee Mountains or out in the middle of some bog : “Top models often have to brave the elements in the name of high fassshhhion.”

Final judgements in the elimination room in front of an expert panel made up of panto legend herself, Twink, the fella who does the airbrushing for RSVP magazine and whichever member of Boyzone isn’t making a comeback/changing religions/joining the cast of Coronation Street this week. That’ll be the old one then.

Weekly photographs illustrating the true diversity of the hidden talent and beauty Ireland has to offer: from Lancome flash bronzer, to Fake Bake, to St. Tropez, to Clarins – the range of shades and brands of fake tans these beauties will lather on in order to battle the rain streaks knows no bounds.

With everything from blonde bobs, to blone extensions, to platinum bobs, to blonde with brown extensions underneath, to long blonde, to blonde streaks – capturing the truly unusual, dynamic and uncultivated beauty of the average girl walking through the streets of Donnybrook or Drumcondra is what this show is all about.

I can see it now: giving opportunity to those who have really had to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. Only previously successful in regional pageants and in doing promotions in lycra for the local radio station, these young buds will finally be able to blossom on national television. And what better channel to showcase the best and brightest and most beautiful girls in Ireland, than TV3, home of Miss Universe Ireland, in its pink bikini-clad glory, and Diary of a Beauty Queen, a sneak preview at the truly insipid nature of some of these fame hungry girls with boobs, legs and little else.

I may sound a just a tad sceptical about the prospect of INTM coming to our screens, and you may think that I am being needlessly unfair. But ask yourself: is Ireland ready for this show? I have to say no. We live in a country where girls aspire to be beautiful by parading in bikinis and wearing tiaras and waving to assembled crowds at pageants. And judging by the winners of such pageants in previous years, it’s pretty clear that the mold of the girl with long legs, big boobs, poker straight hair and fake tan has not been broken.

If we are to believe supermodels are glorified clothes horses, that’s well and good. But you cannot deny that when you see a picture of Kate Moss or Tyra Banks or Helena Christensen in a couture gown, it looks slightly more impressive than Rosanna Davidson or Glenda Gilson in a dress from Brown Thomas. There is no definitive way of looking at beauty, and no way of deciding what is and is not stylish. But Irishness is unmistakable, and the uncanny ability Irish ‘celebrities’ have of taking things from American or British pop culture, such as reality TV, glamour modelling and fashion magazines and turning them into head-in-you-hands-cringefests cannot be denied. Something tells me that INTM is yet another chance for the embarrassing underbelly of the Irish entertainment industry to rear it’s ugly, spray-tanned, ghd-ed, noisy, vacant head.