I think I spent at least an hour replaying the original clip of this, making myself sick the way you do when you’ve pigged out on processed crisps but won’t stop so long as there’s some left at the bottom of the tube. This above has more “heeeeeere”.
The scene eventually becomes like an irritatingly familiar song, and you find yourself donning shades and screaming along. Found via Broadsheet.
Soon, I will begin to recount the effects of growing up without RTÉ in a forgotten northern neck of the Republic. Nippers? No bite. Wanderly Wagon? Wheels came off. Where’s Grandad? Shame on you for losing him.
in the Mud of the Dump? Now you’re talking.
(by Allan Cavanagh)