It all kicked off with an early morning trip to Scraggs', with Johnny displaying fine potential as a drum tech. Jimmy was, naturally, propping up the bar, enjoying the first of the weekend's pints, and enthusing about £8 crates. In a cruel disregard for Dave's Ozzfest advice, the other 2 joined him for quick scoops, before scarpering to investigate those £8 crates. The bus was only just past Kilcullen when Jimmy and Murt began crossing their legs. As drunken yobs in the seats behind them tossed empty Royal Dutch cans about, the concept of embracing M.P.U.'s (Mobile Piss Units) was seriously considered. Burroughs was threatened with severe violence as he ruthlessly pointed out rivers, streams etc. At BusÁras, the cousins raced underground for a massive evacuation. Floody and Decky stumbled in, sleepless, bearing the scars of the evening before. Dr. Deck was quickly convinced to join the crew, who commandeered the back seat of the 40 bus, cracking open a crate.

In Balbriggan, the steaming mob headed out across the cliffs to a grassy knoll ("good for shooting presidents"), where they settled. The sun was shining, beer was flowing, and Messrs. Webb, Flood and O'Rourke were to be found worrying seagulls on a rocky perch just offshore. When their liquid libation ran dry, the three traipsed back across the sands, to where Annette and Lorraine had joined the crew, offering a little herbal respite. Soon enough, it was time to head back into town to meet the Pigz. Babar and Joey honed into view as they tramped along the beach, embracing all and accosting Jimmy's appearance. Crates were dipped into once again in the beer garden whilst equipment was assembled. As the sun continued to beat down, hangovers began to nag some of the weary travellers. In an effort to combat their drooping heads, Decky, Murt, Floody and Johnny headed back towards the beach. With no idea as to what was ahead of them.

Dave and Savage careered around the corner, roaring their greetings to the four, lording it loudly like they owned the place. Amstel in hand, the 2 fell in step with the beach-bound brats, and told their story. It materialised that they had spent the long journey up sculling cans, perving over what little naked flesh they could sniff out, and generally acting the pup. They traded off each other en route to the strand, giving the others a much-needed adrenalised kick up the arse. The group lay on the sand once more, enjoying the view as Dave and O'Connor raced each other to the water's edge. By now, the tide had recoiled, and was a good 500 yards from them. Savage kicked off his shoes and leapt into the freezing sea. The 4 twisted boys on the beach were treated to a marvellous show as he and Dave executed one marvellous Bono "Zoo Station" epileptic kick after another. Mr. Meade saw fit to thieve the paddler's clothing, and began drop-kicking runners to the high heavens.

Back at the top, Dave began on his Stotts homage, replacing "Paul McKenna..." with any other relevant name. He turned away to piss a mere 2 metres away from the brotherhood, covering his foul pagan liquid with sand, and mooched away crestfallen when nobody was impressed. In a vain attempt to improve his sanitary performance, the accountant walked an extra couple of yards, knelt at a bin, and pissed on it. This was deemed acceptable, however.

Soon after, the Pigz took to the floor in Ennis'. Falser was missing, leaving Carl free to flow a little lyrics during the new set closer, which had a tremendous Limp Biccie vibe about it. "Deceive Us" was another highlight of the boyz' short set. They were quickly followed by gym slip... , with Enda staying behind to play Steve's part on "Epic". And he played it like a trooper. The Carlow boys' initial nerves disappeared as soon as they began to rock out; Jimmy's makeup was soon streaming down his face. After Savage's marvellous introduction (something like ".... wrap your hands around your cocks for gym slip....!"), underperforming wasn't an option. Dave, present at the birth as he was with Depraved, chose a vantage point in front of Jimmy's squealing amp, and his ears would later regret it. Decky, Carl and Colie were acting the perricks, clocking Murt with socks and beer mats as he strapped the funky beat down. "Pigz" was, naturally, dedicated to the Pigz, and brave Johnny had to acapellacally compensate for the missing gospel choir on the middle breakdown. Shortly after, they were accosted by the manageress. Apparently, someone in Dundalk had been complaining about the feedback from Jimmy. The lads came to a "one more song" agreement, and ripped into "No Rules (Just Alcohol)". Approximately four seconds into the ditty, bouncers strode forth, stopping the drummer in mid blast beat. Which naturally triggered a crescendo of "No blast beats? Denied!" Colie was getting himself nicely hung, informing said manageress that "it's better to be thrown off anyway". The word "perrick" was soon floating about.

After the gig, it was down to some (more) serious boozing. Dave collapsed in Mofo-esque hoody state, prompting comparisons with D.J. P.J. of 2Phat fame. O'Connor was slobbering about, hugging complete strangers, but miraculously avoided a thumping. (Probably due to the fact that he was among the first to be fucked into a taxi). Murt and Enda manned the bongos, and survived FOUR (count 'em) warnings from untribal bouncers. Dave and Phwed ambled over for a little U2 session. Jimmy then took to the beach with his lady, under the misguided influence that the others were following him. He spent the night on the beach. The others spent the night laughing at him.

As mentioned, Savage was the first to be hurled into John Joe's automobile, with the rest following behind. The beer was still plentiful when they hit the 'Rothery, and "Family Values" was slipped into the stereo. By the time Rammstein had loomed into being, Murt had located another Cloak Of Night, and treated the assembly to some marvellous Teutonic theatrics during "Du Hast". Ever the pup, O'Connor saw the opportunity to execute a brutal regime of torture on the hapless drummer. Firstly, he debagged the flailing Cloakman, who was only too happy to frug away with his kacks around his ankles. Next, the Savage bastard created what can only be described as the Greatest Wedgie In Living Memory. Murt was reduced to a choking, twitching sack on the floor, his jocks reaching practically as far as his neck. His ballsac in a BAD way. (Having long since recovered, he has been known to speak at length of a terrible retribution - see his masterful wedgie assault on O'Connor in The Foundry for details).

Having removed his testicles from his stomach, Nurse O'Rourke brushed himself down to rock through Korn's live set, assisted briefly by Dave on broom. Pretty soon, Babar was the only one left standing in the rising dawn as the others nodded off. Murt was the first to wake, and claimed that there was a bus due in mere minutes. The dozy mob hot-footed it to the bus stop, and were soon hurling insults at someone who had got the timetable all wrong. Nevertheless, they made the most of their wait, with O'Connor terrorising innocent cyclists, and Murt simulating a penalty shoot-out, using the shelter as a goal. Paul McKenna would be in fine form once more. Back in Dublin, they settled on the Custom House steps, and O'Connor began to amuse himself with Murt's cymbal stands. Or "Terminator shotgun", as he would have it. Bemused tourists were faced with the prospect of having to pass the strange man aiming a bright chrome contraption at them. One elderly cyclist was approached, and advised to "keep pedalling". Another native let his curiosity get the better of him, and was soon engaged in a discussion on weaponry with Savage. This man would christen Murt "Boris", label him a gentleman, and ask why the others weren't as courteous. Damn right. Dave and O'Connor were left to chat with their new friend, while Murt, Decky and Johnny ran into Jimmy at BusÁras, who seemed none the worse for his night on the beach. Burroughs led the lecherous jokes about sand and foreskins. Unbelievably, the two still left on the steps were able to make out the departing others as they roared and jumped at the back of their bus, on the other side of the Liffey. The beer began to trickle once more, but not for Savage, who suffered the indignity of coating the bus' entrance with fresh vomit. "We're going to need a mop and a bucket in Carlow". Oh yes.

It began with some splendidly ridiculous ground rules – nine bands in the space of two hours, whilst "local heroes" Sissy perform for an hour. Each competing band gets 6 minutes maximum to perform, and 10 minutes to set up. Two songs – that's all you need to get a feel for a band, right? And, in a master stroke, each band was told to bring its own drum kits, amps etc. And despite the intelligence of most competitors, who elected to ignore such buffoonery, there were still 3 full drum kits to be spotted backstage.

On the day of the event, with Jimmy, Murt, Johnny and Dave somewhat the worse for wear following a barbecue / batter session in Kingston's, the boys accumulated in Scraggs'. Murt, devoid of dreads, and red of barnet, moaned about having never played the drums with short hair before. Jimmy scorned him with Samson-esque abuse, before returning to unnerving Johnny. Crates were picked up, and the short walk to the Courthouse made. Unbelievably, there was no canopy over the open-air stage, and the backline, p.a. and electrical equipment was getting absolutely pissed on. Murt Snr, taking over as Transport Manager for the evening, offloaded the gear, and thus followed an hour and a half of dicking around. Nobody taking charge, nothing being done, and too much fucking widdling on guitars. Eventually, Murt and Savage led the troops as all the shit was pulled out of the rain, back up onto the porch of the building. Another hour had passed before the first band was ready to go – Joe Plays Jim. The two-piece, minus drummer, threw out "Purple Haze" and "Hey Joe", to the accompaniment of much shape-throwing behind them. The dancing continued as Phobia took over, giving out "For Whom The Bell Tolls", and a pretty cool tune of their own. By now, gym slip... were getting their war faces on. Johnny, bald as a coot, in shorts and culture boots, was having "G" and "S" inked onto his head. Jimmy and Murt got loose with the makeup – the former displaying a Shavo Odadjian smear, the latter opting for a more refined Jay Gordon effort. O'Connor took his cue from Adam Clayton, in gas mask and hard hat. The boys kicked it off with "Pigz", with Johnny again having to handle the middle bit on his own. Savage was doing a tremendous job of filling in for the absent Floody, who, if the proposed satellite linkup was in place, should have been lashing into the beer as his band rocked out at home. Next up was "Tom (Extension)", complete with much high-kicking. It ran into the last few bars of "No Rules (Just Alcohol)", the "BEER, CIDER" refrain ringing across the town. It was over as quickly as it had started. The boys gathered their stuff as runners up Forum, and then eventual winners Columbia took over. Two routine covers each and they win? That's fair. It may have had more to do with the fact that as they struck up their opening tune, Savage was shuffling out beside them, carrying a mountain bike. "Excellent showmanship!!", said the judges. Except the goons forgot which band HE was in. Well, it's a possibility.....

As the buachaillí dropped off their gear with the Murtmobile, a Stereophonics cover was starting to wail over the p.a., so it was high time to hit the pub. Or rather the snug in the Irishman's. Some hours later, Murt could be found humming "Revival" as he clambered back down the water tower, unsure if it was the Siocas that had pulled up. The railway proved to be a lot of fun, before he and Johnny relocated to the shed. Bringing the evening to a cultured end, you see.

Ballbag : What's with the stupid name, man?
Jimmy : "Stupid name, stupid people, stupid haircuts, stupid beards, stupid jobs, stupid antics, wicked music."
Murt : "It stems from an unhealthy obsession with Mallory Towers and The Twins At St. Clares."
Johnny : "Stupid names, man, are the best because stupid names make people laugh, cry and do stupid stuff, and bring much-needed attention."

Ballbag : What kind of shit do you play then?
Jimmy : "We play varied styles of different music forms, try and add in subtly with the tension of heaviness in contradiction. We can only play the one way, so it just ends being pretty noisy."
Johnny : "It's let get pissed, shave heads, wear makeup, go bippy sniffing, beards, insulin, missed beats, forgetting lyrics, jumping around, screaming vocals and stuff like that."

Ballbag : Who else is in the band?
Jimmy : "Johnboy – balding, singing (trying), midget, do not cross. Murt – buckets and saucepans, former hippy, now lollypop man. Floodog – don't actually know what he does, but is doing something in Holland. Beard cultivation of some sort."
Murt : "And Boris The Unseen on vibes. He's the alien on the demo sleeve."

Ballbag : Are they easy to caricature on a t-shirt?
Jimmy : "If you have a t-shirt with 4 different hair styles we will fit into the frame within a week and change it again the next week."
Murt : "Ask Johnny. He's the tosser who immortalised us on a shirt. Then we all cut our hair."
Johnny : "I used to think so but seeing as the image of the band changes every ten minutes, not even if everyone in the world made them they couldn't keep up with the changes."

Ballbag : Are you happy with the demo, "Tellytubby Execution G-Style"?
Jimmy : "The rest of the boys are, but I'm never happy with anything recorded. I have to say this could be better here, turn it up there. I am not easily pleased. I didn't want to have a choir on "Pigz" – it wanted chicks sqeezing the riff out on their boobies."
Johnny : "Well seeing as it's my first time doing something so mind-bending with mind-bending people, I am supercalifragalisticexpealidociously happy."

Ballbag : How did the gig with Pigz In Zen in Balbriggan go?
Jimmy : "Don't remember much except for pressing wrong pedals and getting kicked off. No blast beats? Denied! Oh, and having a go at that ugly perrick. If I see him again, he'll be eating jelly babies for the rest of his life."
Johnny : "Blew my fucking mind. Didn't land for four days after. The company was great, the response even better, and the beer even even better."

Ballbag : Your performance at Éigse was allegedly a diamond amongst the organisational dogshit. Discuss.
Jimmy : "Éigse and dogshit have been used in the same sentence before – enough said."
Murt : "That's a terrible thing to say. Éigse was well planned, efficient, and a pleasure to be part of. The judging mechanism was faultless, there was an air of calm professionalism about the splendid venue. Marvellous."

Ballbag : What is the band writing process like?
Murt : "A lot of sampling, a lot of looping. The songs mostly come from arseing around, which we're very good at. Champion arseholes, you might say."

Ballbag : What's with the makeup onstage? Isn't makeup just for girls?
Jimmy : "Boy George wore make up and as we know, he's all man."

Ballbag : You're a band that enjoys a beer, no?
Jimmy : "That is a vicious rumour that has been circulating over the past while. We like breaking things, it just happens that we are normally drunk when we get the idea to do it – houses, lamps, signposts, bulldozers etc."

Ballbag : Have you any gigging plans for the near future, or has your bass player fucked off to Holland for the summer?
Jimmy : "Haven't a clue about gigs, the bass player is in Holland."
Johnny : "Our plans are to play everywhere, have bippies in every town, to get a demo in a studio, get a deal, tour Europe and eventually take over the world."

Ballbag : Can you MAKE it as a band?
Jimmy : "If you have seen our homemade video, you will know that we can make it as a band. We have yet to try it with an outside member."
Johnny : "Absofuckinglutely. Because we are not like anyone else. And the singer brings his own sex appeal to the legends."

Ballbag : Finally, was not George Lazenby the coolest Bond?
Murt : "Hell yeah!"
Jimmy : "Grace Jones was the closest thing to a man out of any of the other Bonds."
Johnny : "Who the fuck is George Lazenby? And what the fuck is a Bond?"