On the drink already, Jimmy?
Jaze bless your liver.
No one's paying you to graffiti pub windows no more kid, or to pretend to be a drummer for a second or two flash in a TV advert
That's correct, Kid. But while I was still painting for cash dollar money, I had the best of times. Louis Fitz had me all over Ireland every time I came home for a contract. The people I met? The craic we had? The endless heaps of praise? The big fat envelopes full of used fifties? Ahh, yes: they were the best of times, and they were far from the worst of times. I loved every minute of it, and I loved spending the cash (in Finland) even more.
The was always something quite delicious in arriving into Helsinki airport and declaring the contents of my wallet:
'How much is in there?'
'Precisely €9,990 in used notes'.
'That's the same amount you declared last time.'
'Yes, it is, isn't it?'
Are you shifting your bank account details too?'
'Nope, I closed my Irish accounts this time'.
But you've been back and forth between Dublin and Helsinki five times this year.'
'Yeps, that's right.'
'You must be doing well for yourself?'
'Not half as well as those who pay me stupid money for scribbling on their shopfronts.'
Looks like a decent earner you have there?'
'Aye, it sure as shit is that, Sir!'
And into the bank goes another ten grand.
Tax free.
So you've been studying the advert I did with David Hingerty (Ireland's busiest session drummer - since I left) is it? That was an easy three grand. Two days work, or rather what the film industry calls work: 10% action, 90% sitting around waiting. In my case, sitting around behind a set of Yamaha 9000 recording series birch shelled drums, a double-kick spread of twelve concert/tom-toms which the set decorators gunged-up in Vaseline, then sprayed with droplets of water, just as they did to me too, naked from the waist up, and black leather strides below.
We had a gas time of it, David and I. Though he was seconded during the filming sections, he stuck around for the craic. After the wrap, we did a two-kit drum solo for the extras who came to fatten out the crowd. The hot chick with the short blonde hair is from Salo, western Finland. She came to me to ask where in hell I got a Salo ice hockey shirt. In Helsinki, of course, says I. And so began a wonderful evening of cross-cultural adult fun.
Next morning my agent called and told me my cheque was in already and could I come and sign for it.
Sure thing, collecting large amounts of tax-free money is among my favourite Irish past-times.
How about you, Jimmy: did your dole cheque come through yet or are you still gathering empties to cash them in at the local mall?
Jaze.. ..it's great being The Mowl.
