Meeting Bono, Edge, Larry and the other one

As a freelance journalist, I’ve interviewed everybody from Terry Wogan to Zag (the man who plays Zig cancelled at very short notice — highly unprofessional). None though, come bigger than Ireland’s most famous sons, rock legends U2. On behalf of Vacuum Cleaner Monthly, I sat down with the lads to talk about their new album, No Line on the Horizon.


Adam Clayton





Me: Larry Clayton, thanks for taking the time to talk with VCM. Now you’ve always…
Adam: It’s Adam Clayton.
Me: Sorry?
Adam: My name is Adam Clayton.
Me: It says Larry Clayton here.
Adam: Well, your notes are wrong.

Me: Deirdre in the office put these together.
Adam: Then Deirdre has made a mistake.
Me: That’s not like Deirdre.
Adam: It’s not a big deal.
Me: She has been under a lot of stress, with the baby snatching thing. The hospital reckon…
Adam: She probably got my name mixed up with Larry Mullen’s.
 
Me: Who’s Larry Mullen?
Adam: He’s the drummer.
Me: For who?
Adam: For us.
Me: I thought Keith Moon was your drummer?
Adam: Keith Moon was the drummer for The Who. He died in the late 70s.
Me: Jesus. That must have been a tough time for you personally, and as a band?
Adam: I’m sorry, this is ridiculous.
Me: Ah Larry, wait. Come back Larry. LARRY?


Larry Mullen


Me: Larry Mullen, thanks for talking with VCM.
Larry: My pleasure.
Me: Perhaps I should have opened with “Bonjour”.
Larry: Why?
Me: You’re French aren’t you?
Larry: No.

Me: F*cking Deirdre! Stupid carpet-munching, baby-robbing dyke.
Larry: Do you need a moment?
Me: I’m fine.
Larry: Would you like some water?
Me: What kind of scotch?
Larry: I didn’t say scotch, I said water. It’s half eight in the morning.

Me: Let’s continue. Some people have called bass players musical parasites. Talentless, drooling oafs with fingers too thick and stubby to play a normal guitar, and personal hygiene to repulse a
flatulent baboon.
Larry: Ok.
Me: Does that offend you?
Larry: Why would it? I play drums.
Me: Drums? Larry Clayton told me Keith Moon was your drummer?
Larry: Keith Moon, from The Who? Keith Moon was never in U2. He’s dead, for starters.
Me: Keith Moon is dead? Jesus. Does Bono know?
Larry: This Is ridiculous. I have better things to be doing.
Me: Adam, Adam wait. Come back. ADAM?


The Edge


Me: The Edge, thanks for taking the time to sit down with VCM.
Edge: No problem.
Me: Would you mind if I call you ‘The’?
Edge: Sorry, but I would mind.
Me: I bet people make that joke all the time though?
Edge: No, that was the first time.
Me: Well, great minds think alike.
Edge: How do you mean?

Me: Yes sir, it takes all sorts. Moving along, you once said “mass immigration is the single biggest threat to western democracy today.” What did you mean by that?
Edge: I never said that.
Me: No? Maybe it was me then. What do you think I meant by it?
Edge: How would I know?

Me: On the fence on immigration, eh? Very wise, it’s an emotive topic.
Edge: I’m not on the fence, I just never said…
Me: How long did it take you to learn the drums?
Edge: I’ve never learned the drums.
Me: Ah, hold on. Are you guys messing with me? Did Keith Moon put you up to this?
Edge: We’re done here.
Me: Ah ‘The’, come back. ‘The’. ‘THE’?


Bono


Me: A man so good they named him once. Thanks for sitting down with VCM.
Bono: My pleasure.
Me: You’ve been called everything from short arse to midget. How do you deal with the criticism?
Bono: About my height, specifically?
Me: Yes.
Bono: People aren’t usually rude enough to call me small. I find your question rude, frankly.
 
Me: Apologies, I’ll rephrase. If an Ooompa Loompa mated with a hobbit, what sex toys would…
Bono: Sorry, it’s not a matter of rephrasing the question. Let’s not talk about my height at all, capiche?
Me: My editor won’t be happy.
Bono: That doesn’t concern me.
Me: It’ll be slim pickings from here on.
Bono: Are you serious? No music questions? Or questions on my debt relief work, for example?
Me: I was hoping to stay away from the charity stuff, for the readers’ sake. I have one music question though.

Bono: Fine, hit me. Let’s get this over with.
Me: You’ve toured extensively with both Joe Dolan and Dickie Rock in the past. Which singer, in your opinion, was more capable of…
Bono: That is utterly false. I never toured with either man.
Me: Never? That stupid, handlebar moustached, power-lifting, carpet-munching hag.
Bono: Who are you talking about?
Me: I hope they find a thousand stolen babies in her dyke shed, and lock her up for eternity.
Bono: This interview is over. Over over over.
Me: Ah Bono, come back. Bono? BONO? Short arse.

At Home with the Fritzls



Her: Josef, you’ve been spending a lot of time in the basement.
Him: I told you, I only go down there to think about how much I love you.
Her: Wow, you must love me a lot. It’s just that, I’ve been hearing noises.
Him: That’s mice.
Her: Sounds bigger than mice.
Him: I also have a pet monkey.
Her: You have a monkey in the basement?
Him: Yes.

Her: Can I see it?
Him: Out of the question.
Her: Why?
Him: He has rabies.
Her: Isn’t that dangerous?
Him: I imagine it would be. Which is to say, yes, it is.

Her: Ok, but the noises sound like voices.
Him: The monkey sometimes turns on the radio. And I have a parrot too, I think.
Her: You think you have a parrot?
Him: Ok then, no. Just the first thing. The monkey turns on the radio.
Her: No parrot?
Him: No, just a monkey.
Her: Why did you say you had a parrot then?
Him: I was thinking of the monkey. It came out wrong.

Her: Well, is all the food for the monkey? You take sacks full down.
Him: I eat it.
Her: All of it?
Him: Yes.
Her: But you put on no weight?
Him: I eat it and then throw up later.
Her: So you’re bulimic?
Him: Apparently.
Her: That’s terrible. Why did you never tell me?
Him: It’s literally hard to say.

Her: But what about all the furniture? You’ve brought down tables, chairs…
Him: Furniture? You’re crazy.
Her: I’m sure you have. And a cooker, a fridge, a sink. A whole kitchen really.
Him: Ok psycho, if you say so.
Her: And a toilet, and a shower.
Him: Cuckoo, Cuckoo.

Her: I’m just trying to understand…
Him: Ok, I’ll come clean. I’ve enslaved our daughter and a bunch of kids down there.
Her: Now you’re making fun of me.
Him: Jesus woman, what do you want from me?
Her: The truth.
Him: You want the truth?
Her: Yes, and don’t tell me I can’t handle the truth.
Him: I don’t get the reference. This is 1991, and A Few Good Men won’t be out for another year.
Her: What?
Him: What?

Her: You were about to tell me the truth?
Him: Fine. Truth is…truth is, I’m dying Rosemarie.
Her: Oh my God, are you Ok?
Him: What are you deaf? No I’m not Ok, I’m dying.
Her: Dying of what?
Him: A very rare disease.
Her: What has this got to do with the basement?
Him: You see…the disease, it…it…ah to hell with this. STAY OUT OF THAT BASEMENT WOMAN, OR SO HELP ME, I’LL TEAR YOU A NEW ARSE.

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Rant by www.rant.ie is licensed under a Creative Commons License. Copyright © 2009 Flann O'Coonassa