“The Bit in the Middle” with Paul Redmond.

Gary Christie Jones

I park the car outside the house because I can see her brother’s over and, again, taking up me driveway. Lime green he puts on it, brand new Opel, lime green he puts on it. The right front tire crushes the brown and grey pile of what’s left of the snow and I set the hand break. This yoke’s new enough too. Six month I have it and the interior already resembles me state of mind, mad it is. I stare at the scattered collection of crumpled and saliva shiny wrappers from Refresher bars and realise they’re the same colour as me brother in law’s car and I tell meself “his car is rubbish too” and I laugh and make a note of it in me phone in the “Material” file. I stumble backwards when I exit the car and have to catch meself between the door and the car. I look down and…

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Don’t Make Me Come Up There! (Part 1 – Intro)

October, 1987:

It’s past midnight. I’m lying in bed, in a darkened room, tears rolling down my face, my sobbing quite audible. My parents suddenly burst into my room, a look of worried concern on their faces.

“Rob. Rob, are you okay?”

I take the earphones out, looking at them, momentarily confused by the question.

“Yeah, I’m good. Was just listening to Billy Connolly.”

Relieved, they leave, and I go back to crying my little eyes out at this man’s comedy genius. A grown man, making this 17 year old, on his own, laugh like a drain.


October, 2017 (30 years later, maths fans):

I’m sitting in the rec room of a treatment centre, with about 10 other recovering drink and drug addicts. Billy Connolly is on TV, doing his thing, as brilliantly as he did 30 years ago. Everyone is laughing. Everyone except me. I’m sitting, completely ambivalent about what I’m watching, at first, then steadily getting more and more down. I go for a walk around the grounds.

‘Shit. Fuck. Shit.’ Continue reading

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I Was Cured, All Right.

Hello. How’s things? You good? You LOOK well. Well… You could probably lose the nose ring, it’s not really you, but, no no… it’s your choice, I know! Anyway…

It’s been a while since my last proper blog, about 7 months. Last July I went into an alcohol treatment centre, for a 3 month program, and would go on to stay another 2 months. It was… an experience. WHAT I experienced I’m not quite sure of yet. A very religious heavy recovery program, it had its up and downs. And I WILL go into it properly one day, just not right now. I currently live in an ‘after program’ halfway house, probably for the guts of this year, so I wouldn’t be in a position to write of my life in ‘The Village’ (as I’m now referring to it) honestly enough yet. Suffice to say, although I carry resentments towards some involved, I haven’t fallen down a religious path (some of my friends nearly thought I would. C’mon. It’s Me!) and I at least picked up some carpentry skills on the way. And yes, it kept me sober. Still have a head full of shite though, as the picture down below details roughly. Continue reading

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A (very) Brief History of Live Comedy in Ireland

Here ya go:


I’ll follow up with a PROPER history of live Irish comedy some day soon, but this is the general gist.


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Cartoonist Problems…


R. 🙂

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“One Day, I Shall Come Back…”

Greetings, the Ether. As I write this, I’m about 8 hours away from the road to recovery. Sounds cheesy, I know. But the fact is that tomorrow morning I head into rehab, for the next 3 months, away from all electronic communication. It’s my first time ever in residential care for alcoholism, though I’ve had a long past regarding recovery, having previously had 8 years of sobriety, I found myself, 6 years ago, slipping back into the alcoholic lifestyle. There were several ‘triggers’ but I need not get into that now. Suffice to say the last 6 years have gotten very messy, particularly in the last 3 or 4 months, fallings out with family and friends, bridge burning with colleagues, police involvement, homelessness and turning into someone horrible. I have not been at my best. Since April I’ve been through (and put others through) a lot of shit. Bouncing from couch to couch, with the odd night of sleeping rough (my own drunken choices at the time).

The dreams were the worst, when sleep DID come. Dreaming your family have taken you back in / made peace with you (I said something horrible to a family member I wish I could take back), or dreaming of finding money in places you’d forgotten, because you’re now obsessed with your lack of money. Even dreams of casually talking to an ex who was once a best friend, then waking up to find it wasn’t real, THOSE are the dreams that really punch you in the stomach. I’ve even had fallings out with people during bouts of sobriety too, all the stresses and strain of having to depend on others for a roof, and building tension. An awful existence.

I look forward to rehab. It seems like a strict enough program, partly religious based. Though I am not in anyway religious I can get behind this (note to self: mentally replace any mentions of ‘our Lord Jesus’ with ‘Samurai Jack’) if it aids recovery. There’ll be other stuff like meditation, and actually doing some WORK about the place, as well as counselling. All in all, a good package. I’ve managed to stay sober since I first contacted this particular rehab centre, over 2 weeks ago, so I’m hoping this is the end of my drinking (or any other form of mind-altering). Anyway, suffice to say, I will be off the grid for the next 12 weeks, so apologies to anyone trying to contact me over this period. Hopefully I shall come back a better man (or even just a man), and start getting back on top of my life. I wish everyone the best, and talk to you all (hopefully) one day soon.


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Some Cartoons…

3 this week… 🙂





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