He was about eight feet tall, and arrived - walking - by sea on a pebbly shore somewhere around county Down, wearing a big, big long green and gold robe (which made him float across the Irish Sea like a Dalek), and a green and gold pointy hat on his head (teacher says it's a mitre) because he was really smart and needed room for his brain to grow.
Northern Ireland is known for its history of religious and state conflict; a recent scar that most of us living here would wish healed. So strange then that the group most disregarded during the Troubles, yet vital to its peace process, i.e. women, should be the subject of unity between the extremes of both Catholic and Protestant religious voices this week
Jason Burke is the captain of his music band which practices on the Newtownards Road in east Belfast. He's been involved with the band for almost seven years, and is something he is both passionate and proud about. This isn't the type of music band, however, that plays the odd rock song in his parent's garage. He is in charge of a flute band, which regularly partakes in Orange Order marches in Northern Ireland.
Some months ago I set up The Irish Times Digital Challenge to invite digital entrepreneurs to propose ways to work with The Irish Times.
With exactly seven months to go until the end of the world, I have got to thinking as to how it might manifest itself (I would've written this blog next month, when it was a round half year to go - but I'll be on a beach then, reading a book, with an umbrella-y drink in my hand, and thinking not a jot about universal destruction).
If you thought the UK premiere of Enda Walsh's one-man play Misterman would drown in the National's cavernous Lyttelton Theatre, you'd be wrong. Clearly aware of the space he has to fill, Cillian Murphy has already inhabited every nook of the divided stage and thrown oil drums into the crannies he's missed before the first five minutes are up.