25 February 2013
635
Caution, the language even though it be in Irish slang be offensive to some people as will be the subject content IF you live in Northern Ireland. Otherwise, you'll find it all silly and not care. :)~
R. Linda:
I had a rather gnarly interview with two Irishmen by Skype this morning. Me goal was to find out if the fighting over the Union Jack flag in North Belfast had finally simmered down to a low roar or whether it was still going at full throttle.
I went through a lot of angst to find the two men I wanted to interview, one from one side, the other from the opposing view. Neither wanted to be in the same room with the other and they both told me they had no time for interviews. Finally, I promised not to run their faces publicly, nor interview them together but from different locations, while using Skype so we could all see each other as if we were in the same room. I'd change their names to protect the not-so-innocent and we would be all set. Reluctantly both agreed.
Like I told you in me last story, we have all these new electronics at work, so I was all about setting up an overseas interview and trying out a bit of the new stuff. At first, I was going to see if I could interview these two from an IPad or something similar, but one of them wasn't going to go to any trouble to help me out, so I had to come up with an IPad or computer somewhere else for his use. That's when I had the brilliant idea of calling in a favour.
I rang a reporter in Belfast, who owed me and he assured me he'd set it all up, nice and safe and sound (not to worry) in the news offices. When someone tells me not to worry, I know I should, but I didn't at the time, it did register in me brain as I heard the words to stop and ask, but no, I didn't I trusted and I fecked up.
We decided on a split screen to have both of these gents in the same room . . . well it would be fisticuffs or worse. Now I had set this session up prior and told them both that the other was going to be interviewed at the same time, only because I wanted opinions from both sides. I didn't need colour but I got that too. Yup, an unwanted added bonus.
It was 9 a.m. me time and 2 p.m. theirs. So the first to come in and take a chair in a place (hopefully) way far away from me other interviewee was Simon.
"Hey me man how'z it?" I asked as he pulled up the chair and sat down.
"Goin' it 'tis and yersel?" He answered getting comfortable.
"Oh good, good. You been doing any catfishing lately?" I joked since it was only him and me.
He looked confused and then he remembered the joke and laughed, "Ah! No, I have not. I be tinkin' I should be insulted."
"Oh I hear you ARE good at it." I joked.
"For sure? I tink paranoia reigns in the US. Kinda hurts to not be taken seriously and made a stalker suddenly. Who knew?"
"Certainly not you," I laughed. "You know you get good at it, ye could fish the other side," I joked.
"Now dere's a taught." He chuckled, but he didn't look amused.
"Hold on here comes Dylan." I could see Dylan seating himself and looking at the screen. "Good afternoon ta ye Dylan," I said cheerfully.
"Afernoun." He grumbled. I notice Simon's expression was sour as he stared at the split screen which had Dylan and I in his view as Dylan had him and I in his. Simon mumbled something like, "Well, I'll be fooked," as he stared at the screen intently. I thought he was surprised to see Dylan, but then I knew that couldn't be it because he knew who the other interview was. It was later I found out he noticed right off the room Dylan was sitting in, had the same furniture and decor as the one he was sitting in. I even saw him look around the room, then stare at the screen. Dylan had put his head down like he was sitting on a toilet and all I could see was the top of his balding head.
"Is dat you Dylan?" I asked to be sure and rouse his arse a wee bit.
"Of course, it's me ye eejit!" He looked up furious.
I thought oh good this should be a fun time. One cantankerous soul the other silently seething. I laughed hoping to slice the anger.
Dylan took a long gulp of a full glass of what I thought was water.
"Ye tirsty dere Dylan, wodda ya got dere water?" I said trying to get him to settle down.
"No ya eejit, it be Poitin."
"Ye gonna drink dat now?" I asked surprised, though I don't know why I was.
"I drink all dae, so wots yer problem?"
"No problem," I said putting up me hands like they could ward off his words. Simon looked beyond amused. "So you two, me first question be fer Dylan. Me man, we know dat dere be some fightin' goin' on over the British flag being hoisted year round at city hall, where the Unionist want the flag up . . . " I was cut off by Simon.
"Loyalists Gabe, loyalists want the flag up."
"Oh right, right," I began, "me mistake, loyalists . . ." They made me so nervous I was off me game.
"Fer Jack's sake call em' wot dey be, fecken paramilitary ya feckin' Prod!" Dylan shouted.
"Like the Real IRA aren't -- ye fookin' bogsider." Simon retorted.
"Okay right, unionists versus loyalists," I said, trying to calm things down. I thought for a minute Dylan had mistaken me for a loyalist and then thought, nooo. I came out of me thoughts realising quickly these two were on another subject and ignoring mine pretty much. I won't give you the full exchange it was pretty hairy.
Dylan went on at Simon, " Catch yersel on, ye scrupulous, ruthless naff!"
"Still away in yer head, ay? Aisht more-on ogus kon byug-on." Simon chuckled.
"Now I doont knoe wot dat means dere Simon, but I hav' a feeling it wasn't a compliment. Boyos can we get back ta me question of the Protestant population . . ." But I was cut off by Dylan with his need to have the last word.
"I hear a lot I doo ya gobshite . . . tell me I doont. Protestants are all loyalists dere Gab-rie-L and Sinn Fein isn't a military lot . . . "
"Isn't the same ting not all Proddys are loyalists," Simon grumbled cutting Dylan off. "Like Sinn Fein isn't the IRA." He had a dirty laugh when he said that last and that got Dylan right away he twisted in his chair like he was going to get up and then realised Simon wasn't in the same room, so he sank back down, the anger apparent.
"Anyway," I sighed wanting to shout CAN'T WE JUST GET ALONG, "Dylan, let's steady on and 'ere's me question to ye -- how are da Cat-lic population in Nort Belfast handlin' da loyalists marches fer da Union Jack to be flown year round?"
"Are ye daft? How doo ye tink dey are takin' it? We doont want dat piece a crap flyin' ovr' oar city! It be a reminder dat we oar STILL an occupied cuntree. Jaysus, Mary and Joseph it be as simple as dat!" And before I could say a word, he said, "Proddy here knoes it ain't right and if he were man enuff he'd say so but he's in here pitchin' fer da Proddys and doont knoe any bettah."
Simon with an artful resolve not to lose his temper stretched and looked into the camera like he hadn't a care in the world. Then he said as if he were bored, "Dylan, do ya tink I came up the Lagan in a bubble ya fookin' gobshite?"
"Well da way yer handlin' it, YES I DO!" Dylan said half out of his chair.
"I did not coom here to be faffin about wii ya. Yer makin' a boggin' mess by loosen yer temper. Let me speak!" Simon said as Dylan started to interrupt him but Dylan persisted until Simon called him a "Bloody bollocks." Then Dylan was up, out of his chair, and he punched the screen yes he did, all of sudden he was gone and his half was black. I sat there stunned, but Simon started laughing so hard it was infectious.
"Aw Gabe, I'm sorry yer interview went arse above tits," then the laughter got him again, "Dylan is a fook-up I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called him that, but I couldn't help it." More laughter.
I was trying to gain control of meself as well.
"Well, that was seven shades of shite," I laughed. "It doesn't take much to piss him off."
"I usually have more respect for the Boggers," Simon said still laughing.
"Boggers? Dat's bad." I chuckled. "As a Bogger meself, I truly doont see why yer side be all about dat flag?
"Gabe, Northern Ireland for all intents and purposes is a part of the United Kingdom. That was the agreement and the national flag we run up should be the Union Jack. Now, if we were a part of Ireland, then we would have the Irish Tri hoisted." He stopped what he was saying and was listening and I could hear another male voice off in the distance saying something to him. "Sorry Gabe, I have to take care of this, seems Dylan, me own personal mucker, is here to give me wot for."
I could hear Dylan in the background yelling, "I'll do you! You bloody Prod I git me hands on ya . . ."
"Oh my, he has darkness in his heart," I said as Simon got up. "How'd he find you?"
"He does indeed," he smiled at the camera. "that was fast, he must have been next door. Suckers have incredible information sources OR," he leaned into the camera and winked, "you have a bungling eejit who set up your interviews."
"You got someone dere wit you?" I asked concerned.
"For sure and I do, not to worry," he said putting his keys in his pocket.
There it was again, "Not to worry," well I was.
"You could have been learning the fine art of . . . " I started to say, but he had switched off the feed and I have no clue what transpired.
I sat there for a good thirty minutes fiddling with telephoning, sending emails and every way I could think to get back in touch with at least one of them. So far nothing.
So now (just a few minutes ago) I find that me stupid source to help me out didn't set the interviews up personally, he had some minion do it and well, guess what? The two Irish combatants were right next door to each other. I had said if they had to be in the same building, put one upstairs, the other down and have them come in different doors. Well, good thing Dylan was late, or he'd have met Simon coming in the same door! Oi oi oi!!!
So me in-depth, face-to-face interview came to nought. I have nothing to show for it only to say that things up north have not changed. Recently when I visited NI it was all peaceful and now . . . such a shame. So back to the drawing board. I have to find me two more not so high powered opponents to answer me questions . . . or count me blessings and forget it.
SIGH
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
Caution, the language even though it be in Irish slang be offensive to some people as will be the subject content IF you live in Northern Ireland. Otherwise, you'll find it all silly and not care. :)~
R. Linda:
I had a rather gnarly interview with two Irishmen by Skype this morning. Me goal was to find out if the fighting over the Union Jack flag in North Belfast had finally simmered down to a low roar or whether it was still going at full throttle.
I went through a lot of angst to find the two men I wanted to interview, one from one side, the other from the opposing view. Neither wanted to be in the same room with the other and they both told me they had no time for interviews. Finally, I promised not to run their faces publicly, nor interview them together but from different locations, while using Skype so we could all see each other as if we were in the same room. I'd change their names to protect the not-so-innocent and we would be all set. Reluctantly both agreed.
Like I told you in me last story, we have all these new electronics at work, so I was all about setting up an overseas interview and trying out a bit of the new stuff. At first, I was going to see if I could interview these two from an IPad or something similar, but one of them wasn't going to go to any trouble to help me out, so I had to come up with an IPad or computer somewhere else for his use. That's when I had the brilliant idea of calling in a favour.
I rang a reporter in Belfast, who owed me and he assured me he'd set it all up, nice and safe and sound (not to worry) in the news offices. When someone tells me not to worry, I know I should, but I didn't at the time, it did register in me brain as I heard the words to stop and ask, but no, I didn't I trusted and I fecked up.
We decided on a split screen to have both of these gents in the same room . . . well it would be fisticuffs or worse. Now I had set this session up prior and told them both that the other was going to be interviewed at the same time, only because I wanted opinions from both sides. I didn't need colour but I got that too. Yup, an unwanted added bonus.
It was 9 a.m. me time and 2 p.m. theirs. So the first to come in and take a chair in a place (hopefully) way far away from me other interviewee was Simon.
"Hey me man how'z it?" I asked as he pulled up the chair and sat down.
"Goin' it 'tis and yersel?" He answered getting comfortable.
"Oh good, good. You been doing any catfishing lately?" I joked since it was only him and me.
He looked confused and then he remembered the joke and laughed, "Ah! No, I have not. I be tinkin' I should be insulted."
"Oh I hear you ARE good at it." I joked.
"For sure? I tink paranoia reigns in the US. Kinda hurts to not be taken seriously and made a stalker suddenly. Who knew?"
"Certainly not you," I laughed. "You know you get good at it, ye could fish the other side," I joked.
"Now dere's a taught." He chuckled, but he didn't look amused.
"Hold on here comes Dylan." I could see Dylan seating himself and looking at the screen. "Good afternoon ta ye Dylan," I said cheerfully.
"Afernoun." He grumbled. I notice Simon's expression was sour as he stared at the split screen which had Dylan and I in his view as Dylan had him and I in his. Simon mumbled something like, "Well, I'll be fooked," as he stared at the screen intently. I thought he was surprised to see Dylan, but then I knew that couldn't be it because he knew who the other interview was. It was later I found out he noticed right off the room Dylan was sitting in, had the same furniture and decor as the one he was sitting in. I even saw him look around the room, then stare at the screen. Dylan had put his head down like he was sitting on a toilet and all I could see was the top of his balding head.
"Is dat you Dylan?" I asked to be sure and rouse his arse a wee bit.
"Of course, it's me ye eejit!" He looked up furious.
I thought oh good this should be a fun time. One cantankerous soul the other silently seething. I laughed hoping to slice the anger.
Dylan took a long gulp of a full glass of what I thought was water.
"Ye tirsty dere Dylan, wodda ya got dere water?" I said trying to get him to settle down.
"No ya eejit, it be Poitin."
"Ye gonna drink dat now?" I asked surprised, though I don't know why I was.
"I drink all dae, so wots yer problem?"
"No problem," I said putting up me hands like they could ward off his words. Simon looked beyond amused. "So you two, me first question be fer Dylan. Me man, we know dat dere be some fightin' goin' on over the British flag being hoisted year round at city hall, where the Unionist want the flag up . . . " I was cut off by Simon.
"Loyalists Gabe, loyalists want the flag up."
"Oh right, right," I began, "me mistake, loyalists . . ." They made me so nervous I was off me game.
"Fer Jack's sake call em' wot dey be, fecken paramilitary ya feckin' Prod!" Dylan shouted.
"Like the Real IRA aren't -- ye fookin' bogsider." Simon retorted.
"Okay right, unionists versus loyalists," I said, trying to calm things down. I thought for a minute Dylan had mistaken me for a loyalist and then thought, nooo. I came out of me thoughts realising quickly these two were on another subject and ignoring mine pretty much. I won't give you the full exchange it was pretty hairy.
Dylan went on at Simon, " Catch yersel on, ye scrupulous, ruthless naff!"
"Still away in yer head, ay? Aisht more-on ogus kon byug-on." Simon chuckled.
"Now I doont knoe wot dat means dere Simon, but I hav' a feeling it wasn't a compliment. Boyos can we get back ta me question of the Protestant population . . ." But I was cut off by Dylan with his need to have the last word.
"I hear a lot I doo ya gobshite . . . tell me I doont. Protestants are all loyalists dere Gab-rie-L and Sinn Fein isn't a military lot . . . "
"Isn't the same ting not all Proddys are loyalists," Simon grumbled cutting Dylan off. "Like Sinn Fein isn't the IRA." He had a dirty laugh when he said that last and that got Dylan right away he twisted in his chair like he was going to get up and then realised Simon wasn't in the same room, so he sank back down, the anger apparent.
"Anyway," I sighed wanting to shout CAN'T WE JUST GET ALONG, "Dylan, let's steady on and 'ere's me question to ye -- how are da Cat-lic population in Nort Belfast handlin' da loyalists marches fer da Union Jack to be flown year round?"
"Are ye daft? How doo ye tink dey are takin' it? We doont want dat piece a crap flyin' ovr' oar city! It be a reminder dat we oar STILL an occupied cuntree. Jaysus, Mary and Joseph it be as simple as dat!" And before I could say a word, he said, "Proddy here knoes it ain't right and if he were man enuff he'd say so but he's in here pitchin' fer da Proddys and doont knoe any bettah."
Simon with an artful resolve not to lose his temper stretched and looked into the camera like he hadn't a care in the world. Then he said as if he were bored, "Dylan, do ya tink I came up the Lagan in a bubble ya fookin' gobshite?"
"Well da way yer handlin' it, YES I DO!" Dylan said half out of his chair.
"I did not coom here to be faffin about wii ya. Yer makin' a boggin' mess by loosen yer temper. Let me speak!" Simon said as Dylan started to interrupt him but Dylan persisted until Simon called him a "Bloody bollocks." Then Dylan was up, out of his chair, and he punched the screen yes he did, all of sudden he was gone and his half was black. I sat there stunned, but Simon started laughing so hard it was infectious.
"Aw Gabe, I'm sorry yer interview went arse above tits," then the laughter got him again, "Dylan is a fook-up I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called him that, but I couldn't help it." More laughter.
I was trying to gain control of meself as well.
"Well, that was seven shades of shite," I laughed. "It doesn't take much to piss him off."
"I usually have more respect for the Boggers," Simon said still laughing.
"Boggers? Dat's bad." I chuckled. "As a Bogger meself, I truly doont see why yer side be all about dat flag?
"Gabe, Northern Ireland for all intents and purposes is a part of the United Kingdom. That was the agreement and the national flag we run up should be the Union Jack. Now, if we were a part of Ireland, then we would have the Irish Tri hoisted." He stopped what he was saying and was listening and I could hear another male voice off in the distance saying something to him. "Sorry Gabe, I have to take care of this, seems Dylan, me own personal mucker, is here to give me wot for."
I could hear Dylan in the background yelling, "I'll do you! You bloody Prod I git me hands on ya . . ."
"Oh my, he has darkness in his heart," I said as Simon got up. "How'd he find you?"
"He does indeed," he smiled at the camera. "that was fast, he must have been next door. Suckers have incredible information sources OR," he leaned into the camera and winked, "you have a bungling eejit who set up your interviews."
"You got someone dere wit you?" I asked concerned.
"For sure and I do, not to worry," he said putting his keys in his pocket.
There it was again, "Not to worry," well I was.
"You could have been learning the fine art of . . . " I started to say, but he had switched off the feed and I have no clue what transpired.
I sat there for a good thirty minutes fiddling with telephoning, sending emails and every way I could think to get back in touch with at least one of them. So far nothing.
So now (just a few minutes ago) I find that me stupid source to help me out didn't set the interviews up personally, he had some minion do it and well, guess what? The two Irish combatants were right next door to each other. I had said if they had to be in the same building, put one upstairs, the other down and have them come in different doors. Well, good thing Dylan was late, or he'd have met Simon coming in the same door! Oi oi oi!!!
So me in-depth, face-to-face interview came to nought. I have nothing to show for it only to say that things up north have not changed. Recently when I visited NI it was all peaceful and now . . . such a shame. So back to the drawing board. I have to find me two more not so high powered opponents to answer me questions . . . or count me blessings and forget it.
SIGH
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
9 comments:
LMAO
Good thing you WEREN'T there! you'd be the first blood and then they'd kill each other!
Good point!
I think it a shame the sectarian nonsense is back. Everyone was behaving and "playing nice" for a good number of years and they lulled the rest of us into a false sense of hope that peace would last. And all over a flag. National pride is one thing, but this business over the flag is not worth the strife. Just my opinion for what it is worth.
I have to agree. I thought long strides of progress were being made and like I said, when I visited in May hardly a disparaging word but from one Ulster waitress and that was it. I be shocked at this sudden turn, but I do believe things have calmed down with the cold weather.
I have to laugh, I mean did you think things would go smoothly with such animosity in the air? LOL
Gabe, you should have started to worry when you saw that water glass of poitin arrive with your "guest." LMAO
You're right. I should have, DUH.
STILL? This is still going on? Who cares about the Union Jack unless it's on a man of war then the old skull and crossbones have to come down and we act all prissy until the Brits go away. P+)~~~
Only you.
Post a Comment