Interview with Sile Seoige, Kenny Egan, and Twink

Sile Seoige


Seoige: Hello.
Me: Sorry love, I don’t know what you’re selling — prize bonds, Avon, Big Issue, Tupperware — I couldn’t give a monkeys. Could you clear off? I’m waiting to interview Sile Seogie.
Seoige: But I’m…
Me: Here’s a few shillings. Now feck off. And give that chair a wipe when you get up.

Seoige: I’m Sile.
Me: You’re Sile?
Seoige: Yes.
Me: Sile Seoige?
Seoige: Yes.
Me: You can’t be.
Seoige: I am.
Me: But I have a collage of you in my downstairs toilet. Well, it’s a bunch of Miriam O’Callaghan heads pasted onto Twink bodies, but there’s some other presenters too.
Seoige: Well, I’m Sile.

Me: Ah no. Ah Jaysus no. I know what’s after happening. We wanted the other one.
Seoige: Other what?
Me: Your sister.
Seoige: Gráinne?
Me: Yes.
Seoige: Oh well…
Me: Ah mother of jaysus, this isn’t happening.
Seoige: …stuck with little old me I guess.
Me: Ah christ no. No, no, no, no…

Seoige: I can leave if you think…
Me: …no, no, no, hah?
Seoige: I said I can leave, if you like?
Me: Thanks.
Seoige: Oh.
Me: Mind yourself now.

Seoige: Ok. You do know myself and Gráinne co-present the same show?
Me: Come on now, don’t make this any more awkward than it has to be. There’s a good girl.
Seoige: No, it’s fine. I’m just making the point that, profile-wise, we’re fairly similar.
Me: Frank? Frank? Could you escort Miss Seoige out?
Seoige: Let go of…you’re hurting my arm.
Me: Not that way Frank. Out the back way. Thanks.


Kenny Egan


Me: Kenny, thanks for talking to us.
Egan: No problem. I’m a big fan of the site.
Me: Really? What’s the address?
Egan: Em…I wouldn’t know it off by heart, exactly.
Me: Don’t lie to us Kenny.
Egan: What?

Me: You don’t love the site. You’re here for the 150 euro.
Egan: My agent said 200.
Me: Well, your agent is obviously screwing you.
Egan: Dad wouldn’t do that.
Me: Your dad’s your agent?
Egan: Yes.
Me: The guy I met in town yesterday, who looks nothing like you?
Egan: Yes.
Me: He’s your biological dad?
Egan: Yes.

Me: If you say so. By the way, congratulations on coming out the other side of your recent meltdown.
Egan: Well, I wouldn’t call it a meltdown as such.
Me: It was Chernobyl from where I was sitting.
Egan: That’s unfair. I just got overwhelmed by all the media stuff.
Me: Nobody told you there’d be a photographer at The Olympics? And that it might appear on the wireless?
Egan: Why are you being a prick?
Me: What did you call me?

Egan: Sit down old man, I’m warning you.
Me: You don’t scare me. I’ve been punched by Michael Carrruth, and he has a gold medal. Not some poxy silver.
Egan: I heard about that. You were out of order. You don’t just walk up to a man and his wife and start talking threesomes.
Me: Stand up.

Egan: You have three seconds to get your hands off me. Three.
Me: I’m going to beat you so hard your real dad will feel it.
Egan: Two.
Me: I’m going to bust up that pretty face, real nice.
Egan: One.
Me: FRANK? FRANK? He’s after breaking my nose. Ah Jaysus. Ring an ambulance. Tell them I’m having a heart attack, they’ll get here quicker.


Twink


Me: Twinkle twinkle, little star.
Twink: How I wonder, what you are.
Me: What?
Twink: I was just finishing the rhyme.
Me: What rhyme?
Twink: Twinkle, twinkle, little star. You know, the children’s rhyme?
Me: I hardly think children’s rhymes are appropriate, given the seriousness of tomorrow’s budget.
Twink: But you said ‘twinkle…’
Me: I said, I said. That’s exactly the kind of buck-passing that has us in this quagmire.

Twink: Are you drunk?
Me: Answer the question.
Twink: What question?
Me: For the third and final time, answer the question.
Twink: It’s the second time, and I don't know what question you're talking about.
Me: Ah yes, here we go. Protecting your cronies in The Gaiety.
Twink: What?
Me: Closing ranks, now that your cushy tax exemptions are on the chopping block.
Twink: What the hell are you talking about?

Me: Are you a member of the Golden Circle?
Twink: The Anglo thing? No, of course not.
Me: You’re circling the drain Twinkle Toes. Panto is dead.
Twink: Now hold on just one minute buster. Pantomime has never been healthier.
Me: You were supposed to say “oh no it isn’t”. Then I would have said “oh yes it is”, and so on, and so forth. You’ve ruined it now.
Twink: You smell like a brewery.
Me: You look like a platypus.

Twink: I’ve never been spoken to like this in my life.
Me: Why don’t you leave a message on my phone whinging about it. Frank?
Twink: How dare you?
Me: He’s behind you.
Twink: Oh, very funny.
Me: No really, he’s behind you. Frank, please escort Mrs Twink to the carpark.
Twink: Take your…take your hands off me…you’re hurting my arm.
Me: Get a real job. And get a real name. Twink? You sound like an ad for eye drops.
Twink: This isn’t over. I’ll have you. You and your gorilla.
Me: No Frank, she didn’t mean…no frank, DON’T. Oooh. Oh no. I think she’s really hurt. Let’s get out of here.

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