The Cartoon Thieves

Last August, myself and my significant other embarked on a whirlwind, unplanned tour of this fair isle. Originally, a (former) friend had promised me the keys to her parent's holiday home in Dingle, where we would recuperate after a manic summer. However, despite repeated assurances to the contrary, the day arrived and ex-friend wasn't answering her phone. Confronting her at work, I affected a 'how could you possibly fuck me over like this' stance, while she chose the 'I honestly thought it was next weekend, and I've lost my phone' path. Suspicious, I took my phone out and proceeded to call hers. The concomitant slatiness of her pallor confirmed my worst supsicions before i heard a familiar ringtone - hers - she had been lying all along. I never found out why and we haven't spoken since. No apology. No cottage.

I digress. Crestfallen, we resolved to make the best of a bad situation, and headed off with little intention but to remain alive for the weekend. We took in Tralee, bereft of the fun and frolics one might associate with the Rose of Tralee, which was being held that weekend, and had a tasty chinese meal prepared and served by the speedy gonzalez of the waitering world. On to Dingle, and the Blaskets, where I berated a long-since deceased Peig Sayers for ruining the lives of innumerable leaving cert students with her drab portrayal of island life. We had pizza in a funky wine bar and stole a poetry book which neither of us have ever read, and partook in a session with a one-dimensional lunatic accordion player and a drunken navvy who could affect the sound of a flute...with his bare hands. Our day trip to Killarney was hijacked by two hitchikers, with whom we drank far too much in a pub outside Killorglin while waxing lyrical on the vacuity of the modelling world. I also had my first run on our trip - 2 miles up and down a threatening hill drenched in summer rays. It would be reasonable to suggest that I hold our wonderful excursion in the highest regard, and the love that had been born months beforehand flourished and grew to an almost unimaginable level.

But we weren't through. Onward to Galway, where we bunked with Sean and Karen, old dear friends. At a loss as to how to pass one lazy evening, we took a chance on this band. And they blew us away. I had never been more impressed than I was by their electic mix of rockabilly and euphoria. Their craftsmanship was unprecedented in my experience. For months I plundered the interweb, seeking morsels of info on their present shenanigans. I found none...until today. On Monday 20 March, The Cartoon Thieves, in all their resplendent, indifferent glory, play Voodoo. I cannot say enough about these guys, they are absolutely fantastic, and I guarantee they won't disappoint. Go along, it won't cost an arm...or a leg.