Greatest Living Irishmen

It takes a particular (or peculiar) caste and mould of man to make a total gobshite of himself to the nation on a weekly basis. Julian Simmons, the chubby camp guy on UTV who pulls grotesque faces and has a mild fit every time he introduces Coronation Street, is one such man.

Julian is a small part of the fabric of Ireland's underground elite, joining other luminaries like Daniel O'Donnell, Red Hurley, Sonny Knowles, Richie Kavanagh etc. in that particular set of celebrities who are widely ridiculed but yet retain enough of a stealth following, mostly among house-bound pensioners, to keep them relevant.

Doubtful though the talents of some of these people are, those of 'Ore Jewleean' are particularly precarious. His fame and popularity seem to be solely predicated on his ability to purse his lips, draw his chin back into his neck before flapping his arms limply and adopting a stagey Belfast accent, all before introducing Coronation Street in perfect gay, delighting 'older' women everywhere - (Gummy bingo goers who wear massive industrial strength knickers to you and me). Wearing a pink bow tie or some other such garish comic horror, he blabbers thus:

"An' nigh on the Yew TV, thon' there Deirdre is running abite cluckin' like maud with her turkey neck all a twicthin' after Tracey Barlow's latest escapade with that rogue trader Charlie. An' no-one to take care o' the wee chile only poor Ken an' sure he'd rather be readin' a book are samthin! Lord blay-iss us all, but it's awl kickin off over and going right maud over thar on thon Coronation Street. An' a big whadda-bite-ye to big Jum Devereaux in Waist Bail-fawst whose wife called to get us to say hello and remind him that his lemon meringue coloured Y-fronts are still out on the washing line and will need taking in if they're to be ready for his sponsored walk tomorrow..."

For fucks sake, how do these people get work? I despair.