The Missing Words Game

What was a lovely happy ever after story about my old mate Bono finally getting his October song lyrics back after one hundred and fifty years or whatever it was. Gee, and they turned up in October too – how neat is that?
And no doubt you all believed that touching detail about the briefcase being found in a loft by a good Samaritan who passed it on to U2’s management.

Yeah, right. The clue to the real story, impressionable ones, is in the word ‘Samaritan’ – and in particular the first three letters. Do I need to spell it out for you?
The truth, of course, is that the briefcase has been in the possession of none other than Sam Snort since I first heard that the fab four were going to go all spiritual on us back in the early eighties. Sam has always taken seriously this organ’s ancient and noble creed – to keep Ireland safe for rock ‘n’ roll, or at least for Sam and his mates – and the minute I heard of the alarming direction things were taking in Windmill Lane, I arranged for Bono’s briefcase to take a hike.

Lesbian Fuck Fest

But Sam, I hear you cry plaintively, didn’t Bono sing lots of nice spiritual songs on October anyway – you know, like ‘Gloria’ and, er, the other ones? Well, yes, I’ll grant you that Bono is a hard man to keep down with God on his side, and, certainly, his celestial ‘Gloria’ was, shall we say, a bit of an anti-climax, coming just a couple of years after the great Patti Smith had turned Van the Man’s eponymous garage classic into a fully-fledged lesbian fuck fest. But if you saw the stuff in the briefcase you’d be thanking Uncle Sam for small mercies.
Here’s the thing: I have seen Bono’s original lyrics, studied them intently even – and they were all in Latin. That’s right, Ireland’s greatest ever rock band were about to go all Tridentine on yo ass, until Sam intervened to save the day for good old heathen rock ‘n’ roll. As a result, Bono had to record his all-new lyrics on the mic at the eleventh hour, with only the “in excelsis deo” bit in ‘Gloria’ surviving from the original High Church blueprint.
Of course, it’s not the first time Sam has had to take direct action to save some of our most revered rockers from themselves. As readers enjoy this issue’s celebration of some of the greatest Irish rock albums ever made, it’s worth bearing in mind that things would have turned out very differently if Sam hadn’t been on the case, keeping everybody in line and spiking drinks where necessary.
Take Horslips, for example. They were perfectly happy playing tin whistles and spoons and bodhrans and spouting poetry and singing through the nose with a hand cupped over the ear and all that oul’ shite, until Sam simply pointed out to them that the country would still be in the dark ages if it wasn’t for the Rural Electrification Scheme. It was as if a light suddenly came on – in fact, do you know, a light did suddenly come on – and the next thing the boys were plugged in and amping up the diddley-aye stuff in a fine style.
And that’s not all. Who advised Rory: ‘There’s no future in the ukulele, kid’? Who told The Undertones: ‘No, not Terry Wogan – John Peel’? Who said to Lord Henry: ‘I think I have a better idea than an annual agricultural show’? Who stopped Philo in his tracks by saying: ‘Yes, ‘Four Roads To Glenamaddy’ is a lovely song but have you ever heard ‘Whiskey In The Jar’? Who confided to Enya: ‘By the way I have some spare Latin lyrics if you’re stuck’? (Did she accept the offer? Hard to say, really). And, of course, no prizes for guessing who told Van not to cheer up.
Sinead’s sean nos album? Sorry about that, I was on holidays at the time.

Kiddies’ Blockbuster

All of which brings us back to the latest kiddies’ blockbuster, Harassed Bono And The Case Of The Missing Briefcase. Why did I hang onto it for all these years? Well, I had to see signs of what Sam considers to be real spiritual growth. And, sure enough, they came, slowly but surely – drinking, smoking, swearing, and, er, irony. The boy has come a long way – although he still has vertigo. (Yellow card – Ed).
What we might call Sam’s divine inspiration all those years ago changed the course of rock ‘n’ roll history. And that’s all that Sam was about – making things better, doing the right thing, taking the big risk in the interests of the greater good. And so, his selfless and, if I may say so, even heroic work accomplished, Sam was only too happy to return the missing briefcase to its rightful owner.
But only after auctioning it on e-bay for a shitload of squids, of course.
Your ever lovin’ Samuel J. Snort Esq