Heard the Corrigan Brothers' song for the first time this morning.
Oh. Sweet. Lord.
I honestly have no clue; no rational sense as to why various different counties have all been trying to annex these boys and their witty brand of gombeen-shlop rock.
Before you say anything, I know it's harmless fun. I know they're just playing up the whole knee-slapping silly Irish folk shtick.
But it's unclean. Unclean I say.
Yet it was the Limerick Leader that unleashed these boys onto the Western world, and now thanks to our intrepid music correspondent Alan 'Bingo' Owens, the whole world thinks there's no one as Irish as Barack O'Bama.
The Chalkboard would like to extend apologies to that effect, and also assures its readers that if you, too, despise the track, I am more than willing to declare a jihad on Alan Owens.
Off to watch the inauguration in a bit.
Still living in hope that fresh from playing to the Irish-American dinner and the inauguration parade, the Corrigan's guitars may protrude from behind some barrier and are mistaken for contraband by some jumpy secret service agent, who promptly empties eight rounds into each, sparing us that bloody song for nine to ten hours.