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After a two month sabbatical, of which many apologies for are due but none are forthcoming, we are back in business with a stateside statement of intent and a brand new guest! This episode Sloane, Felix and I are joined by a protege of theirs, Belle! 

This episode finds you a week later, and finds Lord Friday The 13th over a month into a truly gruelling (truelling) European tour.  Join us as we try to piece together the last 4 weeks from the pieces of ourselves that remain. There's everything from a show in an old mortuary, to a sound man called Machine Gun, people raising donkeys, an interview conducted in a toilet, -substances- being smoked outside, a police raid and a stay in an actual, honest to goodness, no fooling, proper old castle. The best part (or worst part) is, that all happened in the SAME DAY. There's more where that came from unfortunately. 

Don't have time for a long intro, we're already late enough as it is! GUEST THIS EPISODE IS MY SISTER MORNA AND SHE DOES A CLASS JOB. 

Episode 46 sees me return stole items to Peter Rugman and he returns the favour by stealing the show.  During a routine headlining of the last ever Static Shock Weekend with The Number Ones, Peter Rugman was gracious enough to grace us once again with his presence and once he's done that, goes on to tell us about his award winning, improvised murder mystery show (which is his way of confessing to -actual- murder). I gloss over his homicidal tendencies and instead dive into his beef with Charlie Puth while I break the law by stealing some electricity from a plug in a pub. Sonic Second follows swiftly with contributions from Counting Crows and Julian Lennon and from there we fall in to Vox Pas with some terrible examples of Irish accents in video games. Workfarce makes its inglorious return and then after Have I Got Tunes For You we treat you to a song from The Number One's headline set from that night at the Lexington. Whole show is rounded out with a delayed flight and delayed responses from some tired rockers in Stansted airport the following morning. 

You’ll notice the repetition of a prior episode title, but there’s just cause for this repetition, and it’s just cause I want to. But also because the guest is another Peter, but not just ANY Peter, it's the Peter that is the reason I’m Peter O’ Hanlon Jnr. (Like Robert Downey and his son, except without the troubled past and billion dollar franchise.Yes, my dad disgraces us with his presence on the podcast during a routine visit back to Cavan.  We talk through how we first me (in a hospital, lots of screaming) and what it was like living together (in a house, lots of screaming). Dad gales and regales me with stories from his past, doing us all a favour and shutting down NCAD for 11 days and adventures in haunted houses over in Dallas. Morna and Ross drop in on a call to discuss the rite of passage that a ‘numny’ from Dad is and then we talk through Dad’s incessant desire to erect sheds and direct plays. Eventually we turn our attention towards the segments where poor dad comes a cropper with some rearing senility that returns for the sign off. After father and son’ing our way through Sonic Seconds, Second Best and Word On The Street we get to Acoustic Corner and Dad whips out his classic, 16 Tonnes. (There’s a second performance of another household favourite but thats only for the Patreon members). My mother elects to make a cameo appearance to set the record straight and recommends we listen to the national anthem so we can wrap up. This episode is a family affair that could've gone worse. 

Rathmines feels our wrath this episode and I feel the wrath of KLDD who join me in the Wine Buff for an evening of recollections and recommendations.  We cover everything from nightmare shows to disgraced school journals, old demos to new performances, the humour is broad and the horizons are narrow. 

This episode holds a very special place in my heart, not half because my guest is a stellar chap (not even a quarter of why I like this episode) but also because his name is ALSO Peter and I finally get to use a title I've had for longer than I care to admit. I'm going to type it again because it's such a ruddy humdinger of a title and typing it means I have to say it in my head and I get to realise its brilliance all over again. Peter Rugman is my guest this episode and with him he brings the novelty of the same name and also some riveting contributions to the segments. We start as we don't mean to go on and dissect a Strypes fanfiction about bearing our children. From there we talk through the preceding days drinking and dancing and our Pokemon trainer history, (Rugman, who Peter will be referred to as from now on to save confusion) critiques and evaluates O' Hanlon's current Pokemon crystal squad) before we crack on into the segments. We circled around Sonic Seconds and cover ground from Flyte to Labi Siffre to Kath Bloom to Klaatu to Matthew Sweet to The Raspberries and finally Brian Wilson. Coming into land we don't settle the debate between YouTube app vs YouTube in-browser (Rugman's answer will disappoint you) before hurtling headlong into Vox Pas and take off soaring again into Pete's Patent Pending which enjoys a welcome return (if some sub-standard offerings). After gliding through our shared memories of canine cartoons we careen into Have I Got Tunes For You (recommendations on our end involving 'Novelty Island' and 'The Merrymakers' before we engage the landing gear and round out our time together for an Acoustic Corner for the ages. 

In the beginning, this podcast was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move. An even worse move was to get Shane O' Neill on as a guest and relive the misery we've put each through over the course of the last 17 years. 

For episode 41, I thought it best to make the mistake of sitting down with Sean, Eddie and Conor from The Number Ones after standing up from sitting down with them earlier on in Mulligans pub. Talk circles around our dislikes (bands, sweets, each other), our vague familiarity with household musical icons, (-Gene- Campbell and -Tim- Westerberg), displays of aggression and inadequacy in secondary school (art and woodwork), and finally an excuse for an attempt at a song at the end. 

Episode 40 finds us in Austin Texas and finds us reaching a milestone! And to celebrate this milestonic occasion, we totally abandon the well worn segmented approach this show has rigidly adhered to for the last 39 outings and instead use it as an opportunity to ruthlessly dissect the month of shows myself and my guests Sloane and Felix, of Lord Friday The 13th, have enjoyed and endured during my stay in the US. We flip off thieves at Dino's Bar And Grill in Nashville, dine on natto in New York, and rattle through Austin's dives and haunts for SXSW all while making sure we're home in time for MIlf Manor. 

My guests this month are the incorrigible and irredeemable Emily 7. We start the episode desperately trying to piece together how we first me which proved impossible. The details of our adventures are foggier than a winters morning by a lake (and all the better for it) so we moved on to the segments once we'd agreed on a chronology of events.After debating the correct pronunciation of street names, we move on to Sonic Seconds and tickle our brains with moments from Gilla Band, Led Zeppelin and Labi Siffre (who we find out was the original Slim Shady).  From there we hear about a potentially lethal run in with sodium hydroxide at my place of work, and a potentially lethal gig for Emily 7 in Mountjoy Prison before Have I Got Tunes For You gives us the chance to shine with recommendations ranging from Guthrie Govan to Curly Bliss to Julee Cruise to Diiv.  Rounding out the evening, Scott wows us with his Clinton impression and then him and Dan disappoints us with their predilection for and proficiency with prank phone calls. 

The first episode of the new year starts as most disasters do, with a trip to Galway. I sit across from and beside Lachlann and Naoise, the other two members of Adore, and Ray, who walked into the kitchen of his own house at the wrong time. The gates of hell had already closed behind him and he had no choice but to grab a mic. After listing the personal ailments plaguing me at the moment, (including a right ear so full of wax its sore to turn my head, the peeling skin on the roof of my mouth thanks to a scalding sip of lava java and the bracing winds of Dublin relieving my jacket of its buttons and exposing me to more cold) the four of us head off on our merry way through flatulent forays on the Irish rail system and pop songs rendered through the prism of a culchie accent. In the segments we enjoy some Chubby Checker discourse, interesting revelations about the Blues Brothers and their involvement in the Falklands, and a mouthful becomes a lapful for Naoise in Garglebox.