Yesterday I went paintballing in Dublin with my 14 year old brother-in-law and his mate. It turned out that the only other people playing that day were 22 members of the Irish constabulary, which allowed me the rare opportunity to run around the woods shooting and screaming abuse at coppers for 4 hours. It was bloody brilliant, I felt like I was in Raoul Qwest. Anyway, even though I was totally amazing at it, and I blasted countless pigs (hell yeah !!!) I got shot loads and loads of times, largely, I suspect, for being the only English bastard there, and those tiny balls hurt far, far more than I ever thought they would. My shoulders, arms, chest and calves look like Rihannas face when she burnt Chris Browns toast. And today, poor lickle me, was the day my ticket back to London was booked, which when you travel with a dog, rendering flying out of the question, entails a 9 hour train and ferry and taxi hell trip surrounded by increasingly shit faced itinerants arguing about their dead fathers and whether theyve been pissed for a week and whether theyre going to kick in the ticket mans teeth or not (they are), and this is a very VERY GRUELLING EXPERIENCE.
And Ive just got in around midnight and now Ive got to write the reviews, and I tried to listen to a song that came out this week, and even though it was pretty good I DIDNT GIVE A SHIT, so instead I put on this number by Dolly Parton that I heard on the ferry, and it sounded brilliant, and if youve got this far in this rambling non review you may as well do yourself a favour and play the clip below to hear it, because it sounds like the best bits of Nancy Sinatra mixed with some folky violins and blinding lyrics, and its brilliant AND a fine tonic for the soul.