About Lisa McInerney

That cranky young wan from award-winning blog, Arse End Of Ireland, Lisa’s also noted for her dedication to cobbling together unrelated imprecations to make new and bemusing insults, mostly because she’s not eloquent enough to otherwise explain her deep-seated terror of genre fiction and Fianna Fail. In 2006, The Irish Times called her “… the most talented writer at work in Ireland today”, and her mam still can’t understand why this is better than being the new Marian Keyes. Which it totally is. Alright? Website Twitter: @SwearyLady Facebook.com/sweary Last FM: LeislVonTrapp

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously wearing Lindsay Lohan’s new fashion line, so you don’t have to. You would imagine that any gossip column worth the paper t’was spat on would be focusing on The X-Factor this week, what with Simon, Dannii, Louis and Cheryl having finally chosen the twelve horsemen for the apocalypse of Saturday night television. Not the case here, I’m pleased to admit! There’s plenty about this year’s contestants one could focus on and pick at - that one of the male finalists looks like the money shot from a 1970s porno, that another has teeth you could sail to Easter Island on … that there’s a band of lapdancers, for Jaysus’ sake! - but I prefer to focus more on people who are already celebrities. People whose dedication to the arts, whose poise and grace in a world of creative flux are an inspiration to us all, and … What? Really?! … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously reading Roman Polanski’s court transcripts, so you don’t have to. We’ve got quite a female-centic ragbag of raging oestrogen this week, fellow gossip hounds. Must have been a drought in the cocoa beanfields, or something - as a gurl, I’m no agricultural expert - but for whatever reason, female celebs have been over-shaking the Crazy onto their chips lately. Who exactly would dare disturb me so, you might ask; Lady Gaga? Peaches Geldof? Mary Hanafin? No, kids. In a much more sinister turn, usually-bland bunnies like Beyonce have just been spotted Dancing On The Broken Mirror - shall we investigate? Let’s! Ms. Knowles is under fire for nearly setting everyone backstage at Singapore’s F1 Rocks concert … well, on fire. The Pear-Shaped One reportedly hogged all of the air conditioning, causing nearby inconsequential mortals to pass out. Supa’sta’ DJ Seb Fontaine suffered heatstroke, and all! I know it wouldn’t … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously going through Eminem’s summonses, so you don’t have to. I have learned that there’s no point in being high-minded about a gossip column. Originally, I had planned to focus on the goings-on of our more worthy high-profile heroes, rather than on preposterous knobs like Jordan or Kerry Katona. But the problem with such a well-meaning mission statement is that … well, worthy stars don’t make absolute prats of themselves, do they? They don’t court Controversy, or indeed try to talk Scandal in for “a coffee” on the way home from the local disco. You won’t catch George Clooney dogging in the Tesco car park, or all four members of Interpol coked out of their oaks on the set of America’s Next Top Model. Basically, I’m warning you that while I shall endeavour to provide an environment free from Jordan and her ilk, I cannot always be sure that the … There’s more

Holy Blind Io! It’s the 1st Irish Discworld Convention!

If you’ve ever thought the name “Havelock” sexy, or used the Vimes’ Boots Theory at a dinner-party discussion, or roared, “I Aten’t Dead!” at yer da, then you’ll be just as excited as I am that the first ever Irish Discworld Convention takes place from the 6th to the 9th of November in the Falls Hotel, Ennistymon, Co. Clare. Discworld, for the uninitiated, is a series of comedic fantasy books by Sir Terry Pratchett set on the … well, Discworld, a flat world balanced on the backs of four gigantic elephants, carried through space on the back of a celestial turtle. Lest that frighten you back into your Al Gore tomes, it should be stated that the Discworld books are probably the most side-splittingly funny, savagely satirical, and emotionally validating books you’ve never read. In short, if you’re not familiar with Discworld due to “ooh, not much liking fantasy, thank … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously hiding in a tree outside Davina McCall’s gaff, so you don’t have to. Drunk-dialled recently? Surprised by an inclusion to lamebook.com? Mistaken a real guard for the stripping kind? Don’t worry, mortals, for it be the season for making a complete ass out of yourself in celebrity land as well, and you’re not the only one curled up in a ball of shame this week, howling “Let me die!” to any masochist left in your company. By now, the world and his donkey is aware of Kanye West’s bizarre interruption of Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech at the VMAs, but surely the world and his donkey already had some sort of notion that Mr. West is as bonkers as the average X-Factor wannabe lost, in a hall of mirrors? Check out the “new” King of Pop’s hair, for Jaysus’ sake. Any man who shaves the design of Saved By The … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously checking awfulplasticsurgery.com, so you don’t have to. Well, it’s time once again for that crass, cringeworthy, and most unfortunate facet of pop culture … the McDonalds of the Arts, the Muses’ deformed cousin that they keep in the basement … yup, it’s your weekly gossip binge! Which, let’s admit, you’ll stuff your face with and then feel right dirty afterwards. Yeah. I’m onto you. You can’t judge me. The question on everyone’s lips this week was, Is Megan Fox bonkable, or just bloody bonkers? The chattering Transformers star had been confusing the masses which such gems as, “I’m a transvestite. I’m a man” (perhaps a disciple of the Lady Gaga method - Staying In The Tabloids, One Suspect Bulge At A Time?) Well, wonder about her noggin no longer! Megan’s helpfully diagnosed herself as suffering from “bouts of mild schizophrenia”. Yes, that’s right; schizophrenia can now be treated with … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously reading Heat, so you don’t have to. Anyone else like a bit of fluffy celebrity gossip with their cuppa? Ever been frightened by the “culture” part of pop-culture? Do you know more about Jordan, the Boobmeister, than Jordan, that gaff in the Middle East? No? Er … me neither. No. This whole gossip column thing for culch.ie is part of my community service, alright? Although I must say that there’s something vaguely comforting about indulging in a bit of frothy nonsense from time to time – after all, if there’s anything that will make you feel a little more cultured, it’s knowing that somewhere out there, a celebrity is making a twat of themselves. On with the slapstick, then!