Brother Dege Legg Interview

Connor McDonough-Flynn interviews fellow artist Brother Dege Legg in Ireland during his 2013 European Tour.
His recent hit: ‘Too Old to Die Young’ was highlighted on the Django Unchained Soundtrack:
Check out what went was said here:
Dege’s Sites:
Brother Dege (AKA Dege Legg)
Belgium/France/Europe: Xavier Darasse: xavier.darasse@gmail.comUSA: Todd Mouton: or Dege Legg…See more
Band interests

Born and raised in southern Louisiana, Dege Legg is of Cajun-French, Irish, and Native American ancestry.

To support his creative obsessions, Dege has worked many odd jobs over the years, including cabdriver, machinist, case worker in a homeless shelter, delivery driver, dishwasher, tire mechanic, fry cook, journalist, and many other jobs.

Obsessions: art, creativity in any form, Dobros, Pablo Picasso, Don Quixote, Vincent van Gogh, Henry Miller, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Bukowski, Faulkner, Black Sabbath, Blind Willie Johnson, Sonic Youth, UFOs, junkyards, zero point energy, kindness, barbarism, crop circles, sitars, psychic telepathy, quantum metaphysics, rodeo clowns, living a good life, service to others, the great unknown, etc.

In 1994, Dege Legg founded the underground, southern psych-rock band Santeria, which toured and gigged in relative obscurity for 10 years, pounding out a strange variety of swampedelic, “psyouthern rock” that relied less on chest-thumping and beer guzzling, and more on quasi-mystical attempts at hayseed transcendence.

In 1997, Dege Legg recorded and released Bastard’s Blues, a hand-dubbed cassette release. The album in many ways has served as the blueprint for all his following solo releases.

In 1999, Dege Legg self-released a crudely recorded, 4-track concept album on CDR titled Love Letters & Suicide Notes.

In 2002, Santeria released the landmark, underappreciated album House of the Dying Sun. Five months later, after a west coast tour, the band went on indefinite hiatus amidst a string of bad luck and hardships that were sometimes seriously, sometimes comically, attributed to a voodoo curse believed placed on the band.

In 2003, Dege Legg lived in cheap, low-rent motels for nine months and wrote about the experience before eventually moving into a trailer park.

From 2003-2004, Dege Legg worked as a nightshift cabdriver for a City Cab Co. in Lafayette, LA. His experiences on the job were documented for blog and book form (Cablog: Diary of a Cabdriver).

In 2004, Dege Legg improvised and recorded an album (Trailerville) of “guitar scapes” in the trailer park where he lived. Link: Trailerville by Dege Legg on iTunes

In late 2004, Dege Legg briefly moved to Los Angeles to record demos in a development deal. He abandoned the project and moved back to Louisiana three months later after realizing he was a willing participant in making “the worst music ever made by humans.”

From 2004-2005, Dege Legg joined swamp rocker CC Adcock’s touring band The Lafayette Marquis.

In 2005, Dege Legg founded the 6-piece ensemble Black Bayou Construkt and released the album Kingdoms of Folly in 2009 Link: Kingdoms of Folly by Black Bayou Construkt on iTunes

In 2007, tiring of forgettable gigs in half-empty clubs, Dege Legg began playing short live and improvised sets in non-traditional venues and filming the proceedings on cheap digital cameras. The venues included open fields, abandoned houses, backwoods alcoves, caves, cheap motels, dumpsters, gullies, parking towers, public bathrooms, sheds, and ponds. The results were posted to YouTube. Link: Santeria Band Youtube Page

In 2007, Dege Legg lived in a homeless camp and wrote a feature story on the experience titled Slipping through the Cracks for the Independent Weekly in Lafayette, LA, which won a Louisiana Press Award.

In 2009, Dege Legg began recording songs for the album Folk Songs of the American Longhair in nontraditional spaces (elevator shafts, open fields, abandoned houses) before eventually recording the tracks at home and in a shed behind his rent house.

In 2010, Dege Legg released the slide guitar album Folk Songs of the American Longhair under the name Brother Dege.

In 2011, Dege Legg began working full-time in a men’s homeless shelter.

From 2011-2012, Dege recorded the songs for How to Kill a Horse (the follow album to Folk Songs) in an empty warehouse in Lafayette, LA.

Dege Legg is the author of nine albums and two books (The Battle Hymn of the Hillbilly Zatan Boys and Into the Great Unknown)

Brother Dege’s music has been featured in Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained as well as the Discovery Channel and the National Geographic Channel.

Comedy Blogedy Interview

Connor McDonough-Flynn’s Interview for Comedy Blogedy.

Here’s the link:


The Daily Paragraph – Netted Heart

The Daily Paragraph

Netted Heart


Vamoose! Gripped. Griped. Gone. Desires. Written and writhing on a wall of befuddled backdrops. Running wild on a bed of nails. Extremities warped. Contorted.  Misconstrued and moonlighted. Strings clasped. Plucked, snatched and snared. Canned public lava, rushing! Erupting vandalism. Red organs. Sandy surfaces. Afflicted. Bittersweet gingerbread – Racing. Cupid’s nemesis, skillfully swift. Confectionery affections. Inflamed scarlet spectrums. Ensnared. Pulsating. Coarse restrictions. Intangible barriers. Morpheus’s graphical metamorphosis. Corralled in a back alley. Remembering. His adage. His liberty. One must always: Keep ‘it’ real, in the streets.

By: Connor McDonough-Flynn

Photograph: Connor McDonough-Flynn

Hitching… To the Ballinamore Fringe Festival

Leitrim_Flag_150Had the pleasure of making my way to Leitrim on Friday, the 23rd of August… I was gigging in Ballinamore

Got the train down from Dublin. After oversleeping through the four alarms I had set, and eradicating any chance I had of a nice leisurely journey to Leitrim. I woke up at 12:30. My aim to get up at 9:30 had failed. Which left me legging it to Connolly Station to get the 13:05 train, instead of walking to the 11:05.

I arrived at Connolly Station at 13:04, with a quick glance at the timetables I figured where to go and with no ticket ran up to the lads collecting tickets, told them ‘I’d pay for it on the train’ and fair play to the lads, they waved me through. I was on the 13:05 train down to Carrick – on – Shannon, confidently unsure of how I was going to make it to Ballinamore.

The train was grand, read a book. Dodged the ticket guy. Being a broke comedian, any chance I have to save a few bob, I’m jumping at. I had 20 quid to last me the night… the ticket was €22. So when the ticket checker got close the urge to go for a slash presented itself, and I had to answer its call. I found the toilet. I don’t mess with Mother Nature. And would you believe it, to my surprise, when I got back to my seat, the checker had checked passed my seat. I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting the ticket collector.

With a good few pages read, and a lovely quick view of Longford, the train arrived at Carrick – on – Shannon.

Upon arrival the drizzle stopped I set out to find a way to Ballinamore. After asking a few passengers from the train about how to get into town, I was directed, yet still unsure.

There was a hen party chatting to a taxi man named Tom, I asked Tom how to get to Ballinamore, he said he would give me a lift there for a tenner; happy days. Had a smoke with the hen party, a lovely group of girls from Dublin, one of them was getting married… 5 of them weren’t… and they were all sisters. The mother was there as well.

Tom and I took the front seats and the girls flocked into the back, revved up for a good weekend on the piss. They were hooting and hollering, taking pictures; one even complemented my good growth. Sadly she was referring to my facial hair, and/or the hair on my head…

After the hen party was dropped off, and good wishes wished, Tom and I headed off to Ballinamore.

Tom had mentioned that he would try and get me out to town before he had to be back at the train station, and even more importantly, before his boss called. I thought nothing off it, thinking that Ballinamore was only up the road. We’ll be there in no time, I thought…

Tom’s boss called about 10 minutes up the road… Tom and I were chatting away, shooting the shit, having a great time. Tom explained where he was headed to the boss man; the mood was no longer chipper. Tom pulled into a drive and told me, that in order for me to get to Ballinamore in the taxi that I was currently in, the one that told me Ballinamore for a tenner, it would cost me €35. I told Tom thanks a million, gave him a fiver, got out of the taxi, and with a hand shake and best wishes wished, I started walking. It was only 19km to Ballinamore. That’s only up the road… I thought. 

Walking on the side of country roads is great craic, cars whizzing by at speeds that seem like lasers, me with my thumb in the air walking backwards towards town.

I walked for a good while, about 45 minutes, Sean from Ballinamore picked me up. Sean was altogether indifferent about the fringe festival. The Family Festival had been the week before, ‘has been going for 57-years’ Sean revered. Sean Quinn had opened the Family Festival. Sean wasn’t sure who opened the Free Fringe Festival.

We talked about the Rolling StonesBeatles, dispute, one must always pick a side. I’m a Stones guy, Sean was a Beatles guys and, also a big fan of Kings of Leon, and Franz Ferdinand, thanks to his daughter’s recommendations and guidance.

We arrived in Ballinamore laughing away, was a candid chat into town, realizing along the way that it would have taken at least 5-6 hours for me to walk into town, it wasn’t up the road whatsoever. With a hand shake and best wishes wished, I got out and headed into the Fringe Office.

The Fringe Office was located in an older house in town. I went back in to the office in the office, and was given my meal ticket and a program. On the way out I ran into Tracy Murray the organizer of the Fringe Festival, a lovely woman from Edinburgh. We got chatting away and the gig was most likely going to be pushed back later to ensure a good crowd. No bother, I said. Dinner was at 18:30, free meal in the future… delighted, I headed off to find a place to work out a set. It was a bit after four and I was in Ballinamore.

Walked up and down the streets, called into a pub where a band was rocking away to a good crowd, meandered up the street a bit more, then walked back the way and found the pub I would be gigging at that evening. Lawrence’s. Was a dark auld style pub, a good country pub, there was a few locals in, I took a seat at the bar, ordered a Guinness and took out my notebook. Pints were €3.90. It was nice to be back in the country.

I worked away on a set; Fintan Harvey landed in, a comedian from Derry, and the organizer of the gig. He was off for a kip, had been a late one the night before. I kept drinking in Lawrence’s. Was a good pint. The Racing was on, I had no money to bet, but horse racing is a great backdrop for drinking.

I can sit at the bar and pretend what it would have been like if I had gone with my gut, ran down to the bookies and put a bet on the horse that had just won, the 40-1 horse, that had fallen in 5 out of 5 previous races… ‘I knew it! I fucking knew it, the horse was talking to me! I knew it: ‘Terminally Useless’, 40-1, I’ll remember that name for the future. If I had put a tenner on her I would have four hundred and ten quid in my pocket right now… For fuck sake! Always go with your first instinct! Oh, ‘Dangerously Doubtful’ is getting 26-1…? 

It was easy to keep myself entertained in a Lawrence’s, the banter was flying around the shop, horses running like hell on the screen, pints going down swimmingly.

I had three pints, a few chats with the locals, fella named Frank who knew a few from Connemara, ‘good people down that way’, he said. My big smiley Clifden head agreed.

Half 6 came around, I headed down to McGirl’s Barn, (named after John Joe McGirl), where dinner was being served; rice and chicken was on the menu. The food was delicious. I hadn’t eaten yet and went back for seconds and thirds. Can’t beat a bit a soakage. There were bands playing the whole time, was an energetic atmosphere, animated to

Met up with a few of the other comedians. Mark Cahill, Emmanuel Emman Idama, and Waki were on the bill. Around 9 we all headed down to Lawrence’s with a good crowd following. At 9:30 the gig kicked off to a packed pub. An eclectic crown of locals, rockers and comedians were in, old and young. Fintan Harvey kicked off the night. I was on next…

With a good applause and few old fellas chatting at the bar, I took the stage and had some banter. Frank was chatting away, we had a laugh, the wavy crowd chilled out; was good craic, an enjoyable gig, Got Em’ Laughing in Leitrim. I’d gotten my first fringe festival performance of the year, in Ballinamore.

The crowd was up for it and the other lads did well, laughs and pints were flying around the shop, an up beat vibe lingered the whole night.

With a looming journey back to Dublin, we headed for the door. With hands shook, best wishes wished, and pints finished, my first gig in Leitrim was complete. 16 more counties to go…

“Ballinamore Free Fringe Festival is an Irish local voluntary non profit organization solely dedicated to promoting Community & cultural diversity through the arts.  We fundamentally believe that facilitating freedom of creative expression, especially for young people, will help to refocus our concerns and positively connect communities.

 Our aims are not only to promote & encourage local and national, amateur/professional and multicultural talent in all its diverse forms. Particularly to facilitate free performance space and therefore inspire communities to embrace & celebrate the wealth of talent that exists all around them.

 Find us on facebook at

Article by:

Connor McDonough-Flynn





How does one, Seize the Day? I’m confused…

Happy_Grafitti_Saturation_ThumbnailI hope everyone reading this is seizing the day and if it’s nighttime, and you haven’t seized the day, I abhor you to get in your time machine and seize the shit out of the day you’ve just failed to seize!!! It’s your only chance!!!

I’m writing this, a comedian, in Dublin, working his way up whatever comedic ladder I’m climbing up. Wondering where the fuck I’m heading, however I’m grateful for every step of the journey. Seizing the vaster reality of The Journey.

I do feel that the road will be kind; it currently leads some unnecessary disrespect, unreturned e-mails and phone calls, mindless hecklers, ups and downs, laughter, good buzz, great interactions, and new creative ways to sustain my existence, such as life.

I know that what I harbour inside of me will lead to a living and good things, different good things, for the goodness in my life at the moment I’m extremely grateful for. I don’t understand the rush. Where’s everyone going? What’s the hurry?

Some days I feel this hurry, it’s understandable the way things are going, but that’s a subject for another day.

When this hurry hits I get all excited and energized and do my best to get shit done, though more often than not when these surges occur, I haven’t the faintest idea where to go or what to do with them. Be productive! I write mostly, but how does one seize the day? How does one seize the moment? These aphorisms when used incorrectly, misinterpreted and taken out of context (lately on a daily basis) don’t instill peace in my soul; they instill haste and chaos.

Today’s age has loads of red tape, hoops and games, in all shapes and sizes. Which game do you want to play? And what about you…? Everyone’s playing his or her lovely games isn’t it great…? Systematically growing further and further away from each other.

Has life become one big carnival where everyone hops on and off the rides? Choosing their favorite, then riding that ride over and over and over and… is this what’s expected? Or am I the dumb ass for taking my time and allowing life in? Am I the retard standing in the corner telling jokes, whilst watching everyone have fun on their rides and missing out? The buzz kill moron who won’t ever get it? “Oh look, there’s the poor lost cause, he’ll never get it, all he has to do is pick a ride, but he just stands there making fun of everyone and doesn’t play, why doesn’t he play? He must be stupid or something… He was probably dropped as a child…

Is this my destiny, on my head stone will be: Here lies Connor McDonough-Flynn, he didn’t play the game and he died… Fair play to him…

Is life a game? Or is life, life? Are we all trapped in a big sports arena competing against each other to be the star? Has the Roman coliseum grown to a worldwide scale? Now we’re all running around afraid of getting eaten by the lions. Chariots racing around us all, everyone dodging spears and banding together in shield brigades to fend off the other game players? What the hell is going on?

Would I be better off in some hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere, with a small fire and a shoddy internet connection, reading about how the lions continue to rip heads off and how people are growing continually more comfortable killing each other for their own personal gain. So they can have a big house, a nice car, a woman with big breasts, or a husband with a giant cock, and they can lock themselves away in their castle of glorious matrimony. Looking down at all the minions fucking each other like rancid rabbits in a field of sewage. Is this the dream? The goal? The life’s work that people want to hang their hats on?

Perhaps that view is a bit extreme…

I do like things, I do love life, I’m grateful for my existence, filled with love, I love, there I said it. I feel to, ‘holy shit, what a pussy…!’ But I’m not sure what to make of it all. Seize the day. Does that mean go out and corner the first human I see and not leave them alone until they let me seize them? Go into a comedy club and not leave the stage until they let me seize the stage? Just take everything that I want, with reckless disregard, and seize it all? Doesn’t sound very enjoyable to me.

I know, once again, this is a bit far fetched, perhaps radical, maybe even a bit scary, but I don’t understand this seize aspect of life. I work hard, I chase my vision and make the best life I can for myself, which to be honest, at the moment, isn’t much. I battle with my own yearning to drink this world away. I don’t but that could be another way of looking at the, seize the day rational? Seize a bottle and then seize another one and then… many have fallen down that void.

I ask these questions because I’m generally interested. It’s easy to blame the world and the past on everything, parents, tragedies, and all that jazz, I’m not going to play that hand, but what am I missing I ask? Which pieces to the puzzle are missing from my puzzled box? And how can I make the pieces in my box of pieces work? I suppose that’s the big question.

The human journey, how to make the pieces in one’s box fit the grand scheme of this vast planet called earth. How does one maximize one’s existence to the fullest and truest possible degree?

Seize the day, and have no care or concern for anybody else but yourself, is that it? Step on heads and seize yourself, and then seize the day, and when you’ve seized the day, seize the week, then the month, then the year… seize, seize, and then seize some more. Until you seize out and fall into a coma and then you’re all seized up and it’s time for someone else to seize…

I talk in circles, backwards and forwards, doing my best to appreciate every opportunity I can. Should I be driving myself to seizures and be left alone in a padded room, labeled a crazy person because I did too much seizing? Living a life where I cannot exist without seizing? Rendering myself a destitute seizing addict.

Or drowning in a deep depression, and killing myself because I missed a day, and I didn’t seize it, and I cannot deal with the shame of not seizing every single day. What is this seize the day, I feel I am missing yet another point. I have not seized the point of seize the day.

The day’s over now, I hope in the deciders eyes I’ve seized today, though I cannot be sure, I feel good about it, though if one were to measure my day using today’s measurement scales I feel I would fall drastically short of seizing the day. I had a lovely day off, spent writing, reading and meandering about nature, have I seized today? I feel I have, but perhaps I am wrong. Or, perhaps I hold the key to my seizing of the day…?

Is seize the day objective or subjective? Is it down to my perspective or another’s perspective? Is there an outside source that judges the day seizing? One can’t be too sure.

Tomorrow I shall wake up with plans of seizing, though I’m still unaware of how to properly seize. Perhaps in time I will better understand the seizing process and be able to properly maximize my seizing of the day.

Running around, non stop, tirelessly seizing every moment of every day, sucking the marrow out of each and every day until the day is no longer there, only a withered frame of a day. Become the: Seize the Day Master! I have seized all the days, and have chosen not to share any of my seized days, for I’m Seizure Man!!!

I’ll instead keep all the seized days to myself, creating a seized day monopoly, with no intention of sharing any seizures at all, not even one moment of day seizure will I share, for I am the one who’s seized them all. I worked tirelessly to seize all the days and no one else tried to seize as much as me, so they’ll not know what it’s like to seize the day for I have seized them all!

All the days are mine and I have seized them all!!! Carpe Diem!!! Yes!!! Full day seizure!!! I win!!!

Most of these aphorisms are taken in the wrong way, posted up endlessly on facebook and social media, spewed out in moments of judgment, people misusing them to recharge their insecure fears like a mobile phone. These great sayings of belief taken out of context and used to manipulate one’s self and others to the point where there’s no enjoyment at all. People running around like deranged maniacs: I must seize the day, get the fuck out of my way, I must SEIZE! Is there seizing to be done over there? What about over there? GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY, CAN’T YOU SEE I HAVE TO SEIZE THE FUCKING DAY!!! 

Is this what Horace had in mind…?

Perhaps, and bear with me, enjoy the day…? Or if you want to get real technical, pluck the day (as it is ripe). This seizing of the day is not based on future at all, it’s based on seizing the moment, enjoying the day, plucking it, patting it, watering it, whatever you chose to do, and not thinking of tomorrow today, instead acting in the best way you can today. Carpe Diem’s not ignoring one’s future. Rather it’s holding onto one’s self and doing what you can do today, and not trusting that all will fall into place someday. Enjoying today while it’s here. Doing your best, connecting with humans on a human level. In this mad, rampant world we live in, that’s all we’ve got to hang our hats on.

Take a breath and take the day in, laugh, act, and hopefully, you’ll not seizure out of the day, and force me to make a satirical joke about you. Would give me a break from constantly pulling the piss out of myself, an aspect of life I’ve seized wholeheartedly.

Article and Featured Image by: Connor McDonough-Flynn

Sometimes, You Want to Punch the Elephant in the Room


Reached that moment this evening as every comedian does, where he or she would just love to get down off the stage, and punch a particular audience member (or group for that matter), in the face. Reigning blows until their teeth wiggle loose from their head – blood flying all over the shop – chaos unleashed – a comedic coliseum coming to life in front of a small audience of foreigners. I digress.

I didn’t lose it, but… sometimes you just want to punch the elephant in the room.

A fine specimen from Dublin was in The Bachelor Comedy Lounge this evening and he was chirping away the whole evening with his cronies, a bona fide bombardier this guy. Spewing out senseless drivel through his boorish flytrap. These levels of idiocy can’t be tamed with either intelligence or violence. An afflicted human conundrum; creatures doing their best to have whatever affect they can, befuddled negativity mostly; they’re angry at the world and they plan on voicing it, and fair play to them, they must let the world know that they’re still there… obliviously searching in the dark for the illusive soap box.

To be honest, they could afford pints, they were drinking away, feet up, glaring through dead eyes as I stood there sober, broke, once again bringing my funny thoughts to an indifferent crowd, being tried and tested before a malevolent judge and jury of a few heathens mindlessly wrecking the buzz for the rest of the audience. It was great craic!

I bantered with them back and forth, going after them a bit, most of it going over their heads, shutting them up in spots. Leading to the inevitable threat of bodily harm, the dreaded left foot. These drunken buffoons were out for their own laugh, and with the aid of alcohol they could have that laugh in their own world, why they chose to come to a comedy club is beyond me… must have been the cheap drink. Latching onto their fleeting moments to be the one’s in the spotlight poking fun, they acted out their parts, completely lost in their own ignorance and animosity.

In these scenarios there’s no sense in getting angry, unless you’re going to go all out, and completely ruin the show. For half hearted aggression and/or cynicism only fuels the fire that they run on, the combustible engines that they are, and violence only breeds’ violence, this is my belief any way.

So where does one go? Play them off each other? Use the rest of the bewildered audience against them? Divide and conquer?

Bitter acknowledgment is usually perilous, only ignites them more. Ignoring them does the same, and as a comedian biting ones tongue is not a strong suit. So one’s backed into a corner, and the obvious easy solution to instigate and create a situation is there, nagging, like a midge raping your ear, but comedy is not held in an octagon for a reason… and it’s up to the comedian to use his or her wit and keep the peace.

One’s wits get tested regularly, nightly, a comedians morals and principles are constantly put on display, unforeseen scenarios introduced where these traits of one’s self are thrust under the microscope, beliefs and characteristics investigated, live, in front of the public eye, for free.

Is he going to break?”

 “Is he going to snap?”

 “Is he going to lose it and go mental?”

 “Shut the fuck up!!!”

 These questions rattling around in the audience’s head as two worlds collide live, on display, right in front of them. Tension building, toes clenching, breaths shortening, reality coming full swing in a comedic escapade. Laughs waiting to explode out of people’s timid guts: the anticipation, crescendo, climax… it’s all there. A Shakespearean play in front of your eyes, is it a tragedy or a comedy? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

The gig was saved, laughs were had, no bloodshed or punches thrown. This, ladies and gentleman, is why comedy’s such a uniquely exceptional experience and why everyone should go out and support live comedy, experience a laugh, sometimes, at another person’s expense… it’s always interesting. Where else are you going to see an elephant in a room…?

By: Connor McDonough-Flynn

Featured Image from:

Packed Out and Buzzing at the Comedy Crunch

The Comedy Crunch ThumbnailGigged in the Comedy Crunch last week, Sunday the 4th of August. The Crunch has built up quite a name for itself since it started in November 2008. Taking the Internet by storm and supplying the local comedy scene with a highly enjoyable stage (pallet) two days a week. Held every Sunday and Monday weekly, the Comedy Crunch is a highly sought after show, for it’s a delightful gig for any comedian to play.

Buckled in the corner I waited for my slot to arrive. I was on first after the break. The place was packed, floorboard to ceiling, set in the rustic ground floor of the Stag’s Head. Lights scattered about, old wooden trimmings, ancient pictures, the place has the feel of your grandparents basement; heading down and escaping away for a few laughs and a bit of debauchery while the world goes about it’s own ways above.

There were people from all over the planet in, as there always is, every corner of the globe, making the gig a great barometer of how one’s material will travel.

Colm McGlinchey was the evening’s MC, and he did a fine job riling up the eager audience, setting the ambiance of what was to be a fantastic night of comedy. First up Matt Sadlier, followed by Donal Vaughan, and Eleanor Tiernan rounded off the first half to a wild hurrah. The audience was laughing throughout, and entering into the break, the anticipation for the halftime snack only added to the night’s vivacious energy.

The audience grew at the break; credit must be given to the comedians in the first half, for they rocked the house. I’ll not be going into reviews or my own opinions on comedian’s performances, for being a comedian myself, and one that was on the bill on this particular evening, any comments, in my opinion, would be out of place.

The mood and excitement in the room spoke for it self, a jovial picture painted, as I’m sure the reviews on TripAdvisor depict. The audience member’s hands were clapping, mouths open and roaring, seats rattling from all the chuckles. Their satisfied newly sweetened bellies voicing their laughing approval for all the performers. And as we all know, comedians love approval.

I took the stage after the break with a 10-minute set prepared, and with the already animated audience the gig went swimmingly, was an absolute pleasure and I left the stage buzzing, racing off to the bar to grab an auld pint of the black stuff to quell the nerves that were rushing around the head.

Headliner Trevor Browne brought the night home and left the stage to applause and cheers after leaving the audience with a lovely little ditty with his guitar.

As the audience members filled out, the night’s stimulating energy stayed bouncing around the room, another successful gig for the Comedy Crunch, once again proving it self to be one of the best gigs in Dublin; I’ll say again, an absolute pleasure.

If you haven’t been in you’re missing out. The best comedians in Ireland take the stage every Sunday and Monday of each week, doors at 8:15. Colm McGlinchey and Danny O’Brien at the helm, and a fine ship they run indeed, in the basement of the Stag’s Head. And, it’s FREE ENTRY ladies and gentleman! Free ice cream as well…

I look forward to taking the stage again in the Comedy Crunch. Thanks to the lads for having me in.

The Daily Paragraph – How Ya… Giraffe…?

The Daily Paragraph

How Ya… Giraffe…?


How ya…? Stone Free…! Nature’s charming Voodoo Child. Herbage roots… Undulating buttresses… a bolstered Quadruped Ungulata. Indiscriminative patches. Blushing… Brownie… Pumpkin shapes. Jack-o’-lantern’s… jacket of curvatures… Shingling a biscuit aura. Elongated connections… All Along The Watchtower… Streaming deltas… Flowing overlaps… Yapping leaf trap… Sneezing sets. Adorably adolescent… Vestal vibrations. Rock-n-Roll Baby! Harmonizing… Ivory wings… An a cappella… Savanna Angel. Crystallized… Inkblot Gypsy Eyes… Piebald. This Little Wing is… as… Bold As Love… Foxy!

By: Connor McDonough-Flynn

The Daily Paragraph – Setting

The Daily Paragraph



Roar! Righteous roar…! Prismatic lion… Psychedelic… Dandy…  Daydreaming anomalistic eye. Earthly-incandescent stem.  Lustrously… Veracious lights. Temporal havens… Tempest presentiments… Disseminating conceptions. Cultivation. Phantasmal… Hazy horizons… Alizarin hues… Mountainous undertones.  Climbing. Clustered cacophonies aroused. Wafting. Aerial nucleuses… Freely transposed. Maturing. Undomesticated. Liberating pastures. One… Breath… Away… Vapor. Beauty… Invigorating beauty. Winded existences. Rejuvenated perspectives… Reincarnated… melodramatic metamorphoses. Wistful eclipses… Breaking… Dawn.

By: Connor McDonough-Flynn

The Daily Paragraph – Scuba Jellyfish

The Daily Paragraph

Scuba Jellyfish


Bloop… Bloop… Boob…? Medusa’s gelatin embodiment… Enchanting. Seductive. Descending deep… Delving negatives… Turning to stone. Venomous… Flailing… Flippant appendages. Fervent feelers… Wisping… Man… Out of his element. Oxygenized and outfitted… Submerged in aquatic murkiness. Vacillating hydrae… Naked… Electrifying beauty. Powerless… One must oblige. Breathtaking reservoirs… In a snapshot… it’s gone… Reverted. Tick tock

By: Connor McDonough-Flynn

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