MORB

'Dreamt we were stuck under ground and only you knew way out but we had to give a good film review otherwise we got thrown down a well by you! Terrifying.....happy bitch?'




What is Morb?

On Tuesday 23rd November, 20 people were given directions to meet in a bar before 8 in the evening, whereupon they were shuttled off to a secret location. No phones, no contact, no clue what was in store, they were lead into a completely dark building, the metal door bolted behind them and made to follow a pulsing blue light down deserted corridors.



'Mad experience, well done you. Congrats, I'm scarred'.

At the end of one of the corridors lay a sterile, cold room lit only by the light of a projector beaming a square of white light on the wall. People took their deliberately uncomfortable seats, nervously giggling and squirming.

And the film began.



'You done good.
Thanks for putting those creepy images into my brain forever.
It brought misogyny to a whole new level.
The location, atmosphere and mystery surrounding the adventure was all beyond top class. Thanks for all the lovely touches. A great treat on this Winter's night.
The film itself is relentless in its violence.'

What was the film? We'll get to that later.

'It was terrific, had weird dreams though'.

Morb is my antidote to anodyne, cool cinema. Taking its influence from the original Midnight Movies of the 1970s, such as El Topo and Pink Flamingoes, Morb asks what is today's Midnight Movie? We are so jaded what could possibly affect us? Morb attempts to provide the answer.

'Last night was an interesting experience to say the least which I thoroughly enjoyed. The setting for the film was SO eerie and the entry up to the projection room in the dark was excellent as it set the mood. The chairs may well have been the most uncomfortable I have ever sat on however this mirrored the chair in the movie which I felt was extremely clever of you..... you obviously did this on purpose....The movie was shocking but a real mind fuck, it's been ages since I had two very polarized opinions of the same film.'

To be totally overcome by the discomfort and fear of the experience and to add to the excitement, no one apart from myself knew what the film would be. With the help of the marvellous Claire Behan, who provided the suitable location and the requisite mood, it became a total immersion in the theme and outlook of the film.



'Watching a movie became more of an experience. Preceded with a meet and greet, quick trip to the secret location, rolling shutters, dark stairwells, led by torchlight, the perfect prelude to a truly engaging film.'

So what was the film? In an ironic way, the film almost became secondary to the experience as almost anything projected onto the wall would have been effective, but anyway -

'Underground cinema is making a comeback in our very own Dublin. Tonight Peter Dunne & Morb brought us a secret screening of the truly depraved 'Martyrs'. The very secret and very dark location guaranteed the atmosphere the film deserved.
I'm suggesting back-to-back 'Care-Bears' for Morb's next screening.'



Will Morb happen again? Oh yes, that was just a beginning with some secretly invited guinea pigs. But what comes next?

Watch this space.

'Thanks ever so much for Morb's viewing of Martyrs last night, I'd never normally pick out a movie like that to watch myself and enjoyed that I could share the experience of the night you arranged with so many others!!! Hope you enjoyed it too Can't wait for the next one, be it the directors cut of Martyrs or care bears.'

'What a brilliant night and idea in general. Secret locations and films! Loads of random faces enjoying art.'



' I'd say the director knows his Sontag.
"with a look on his upturned face as ecstatic as that of any Italian Renaissance Saint Sebastian'.

'Never has being skinned alive seemed so sexy! '



PUTRID DUNNE

THISISPOBABY Summer Lovin

Soooo its been 4 months since my last post! Oooops I can only blame it on my hectic schedule..... Seriously though it was an amazing summer and below are some of pictures of the fun myself and Alan had with THISISPOPBAY at Electric Picnic and their whopper Night WERK - Performance. Art. Club.






At Electric Picnic we were working as hostesses in the THISISPOPBABY tent.After working with the guys last year and having major fun I thought I would be very well behaved this year Oooooopsy!We had an amazing time and got to meet and party with some of the funnest people from here and the U.K. Highlights of the weekend included Philip McMahon saving my life as I tried to mount an invisible ladder (from the top of a podium) and several hours hiding in a portacabin loo avoiding the rain with Skinni Colin :-)




We were asked to do a small performance Installation later in the summer (well October but the weather was still lovely)at WERK the theme for this run was Fat Of The Land. I dressed well I should say undressed to my boxers and wore a homemade pope hat with a McDonalds logo on it. Alan was just in leggings and added to his slenderness by highlighting his bones with eyeshadow. I wanted lots and lots of fast food for the piece but obviously didn't want to spend a months Dole in McDonalds so I went over on the Saturday with a blacksack and gently approached people as they finished their meals and asked them for their rubbish - I told them it was for an art project so I didn't seem too crazy. After cooking up an awful lot of Burgers and Chips at home the piece consisted of me using the chips as holy communion but instead of putting it in Alan's mouth I chewed it up and spit it out on him. There was no huge meaning behind this except the fact that the likes of the Catholic church and McDonalds are so rich while half the world starves (other fun moments included eating raw potatoes and general Blasphemy)




For the second night of WERK Fat Of The Land I wanted to do somthing Bank related. We both dressed as bankers or "wankers" from the bank of Wank. when the lights were on we just went about our general bank duties - counting money,answering the phones but when the lights went off we had a strobe light and a uv light ( its hard to see in the pics ) and we wore flouresent afro wigs and went a little bit crazy cuting up money and chewing it up and spitting it out.Again we obviously didnt use real money - I made myself out to be crazy again that saturday by going into an internet cafe and scanning in a €20 note and colour printing up over a hundred of them!again the art project excuse worked a treat :-)( highlights of this night included a lady asking us if she could withdraw cash from us - no lie she thought we were an ATM service! A man in front at the bar trying to pay for his drink with our fake money and also a randomer who was not at WERK in the que in Burger King trying to pay using our fake money too and an amazing projection on the wall by Fionn Kidney )

THIS POST WAS NOT SPONSERED BY McDONALDS
FanciSchmancy

Mind Your Pees And Boos

In San Francisco there once lived a dog named Osis. So beloved by the couple who owned him, they left him behind with strangers. This beast became the bane of my life when some friends and I 'house sat' his owners' place of residence for a summer, for next to no money on the basis we also sat Osis. Sat...sounds so similar to the past tense of the monster's favourite pastime. Fitting.

The creature hated me.

I also wrestled him for a sandwich but that's neither here nor there.

On sunny days I would take him on walks, where he would beshit the pavements in front of occupied gardens as the occupiers looked on, stop and beshit the driveway entrances JUST as cars were about to turn in, the drivers having to pause as he did his dirty business, with me looking fawn-like into their windscreens. Once, I was so mortified, I pulled his lead, attempting to drag him away before he could settle in for a good crap, leaving an Autumn brown skid mark stretching allllll the way across the property of the lady who stood witness to his and, vicariously, my gypsy like depravity. He even beshit a plate which was then used for a game of Dares, but that at least was useful.

When not beshitting, he was also quite vicious, but only if provoked. Which I inadvertently did one night with hilarious consequences.




It was quite late of a Tuesday and my three co-sitters were all sleeping in the bedroom of the bungalow, two in the bed, one on the floor in a sleeping bag, Osis beside. Bored of watching tv, I had the marvellous idea of taking a large carving knife from the kitchen, sneaking around the back of the house to said bedroom and as it was a hot night and windows were justifiably left open, sticking the knife into also said window and waving my arm about wildly whilst screaming. As you do. No big deal.

The place erupted.

All three launched into screams, running around the room bumping into things in the blackness, the melee as similar in reaction, I would hazard a guess, as if a rancid wet fart exploded in a sauna darkroom. One of the girls for some bizarre reason decided to jump up and down on the bed to relieve the horror. Osis, seeing her pale Irish face jiggling in the gloom, must have mistook it for a sandwich, much like the one I had wrestled him for the preceding week and decided to retrieve it with his teeth.

Feck.

Fortunately, the Irish skin, hardened and almost calcified by years of rain and potato, withstood this invading American maw and survived intact, unlike my co-sitters senses of humour. 'I was so terrified I was going to kill myself', said one. Well that TOTALLY defeats the purpose of home invasion.

Anyway, onto jokes gone wrong -




Definite Mensa member Megan Fry was killed by 14 state troopers after she wandered onto a live firing 'faketown' simulation. Seeing all the troopers walking slowly down the street, Megan jumped out in front of them and yelled 'Boo!'
You know where this is going. The troopers, thinking she was a pop up target, fired 67 shots between them,over 40 of them hitting the long lost sister of Einstein. 'She just looked like a very real looking target', one of the troopers stated in his report.




Oftentimes when asked to give a speech at the weddings of dear friends, I like to shake it up a bit by taking out my gun and inviting other revellers to play Russian Roulette. Honestly, it's so hot right now. In what may be the worst wedding toast of all time, in March of this year a 33 year old Chechen man produced a shooter and after firing an empty chamber into his own head, believing the gun to be bulletless he then offered it to another guest who was severely wounded after finding the one rubber bullet that somehow found its way inside. Thankfully the man wasn't left as totally brainless as the instigator who was then arrested. Good luck to the DJ topping that with a rendition of Sweet Caroline. Raging.


So remember, this Halloween, have fun, trick or treat, delve deep into spooky Celtic ritual, embrace fear and the paranormal, read in the Herald about scummers putting bangers up cat's arses, watch Hocus Pocus for the 42nd time and still disapprove when they bring up the main teenager being a virgin repeatedly in a children's movie but keep your head, Ichabod. If you see someone holding an axe pre-tree chop, a paramedic about to administer the defibrillator or a fire breather mid exhale, don't think 'Jayzis, wouldn't it be only gas if I grabbed him by the shoulder and said help the Halloween party'.

Adieu ghouls.




PUTRID DUNNE

Won't Somebody Think Of The Children

For your perusal - please find below the film I made with the glorious Glass Doll Productions.

It recently came second in the Pride Short Film Competition.

PUTRID DUNNE

The Mask

Some pretty amazing Photographs of Alan Delmar on my balcony on a cold,wet summers morning!



FanciSchmancy

Your Top Is DEADLY

Apologies for the disappearance, I had a 'disagreement' with my old laptop; it just couldn't handle the volume of Nicole Kidman searches and related mess-ery committed daily. I celebrated purchasing the new one by immediately downloading all the Italian Sky Tv commercials Nicole recently filmed. Do you know in one of them she goes to a residents meeting and asks for a swimming pool on the roof?! Love.

I digress.



Fanci's little boutique escapade got me thinking about clothes; the humongous variety of styles, shapes and prices - a huge smorgasbord of cold-keeper-outers and sexifiers, most of which can be located on said Schmancy's STY of a bedroom floor.
I pondered on how I have no fashion sense whatsoever and have a tendency to look simpleton-ish when aiming for avant garde. This depressed me momentarily; how no one will ever look at me descending a staircase and say 'Wow', unless I'm descending head first, or ablaze, in an out of control wheelchair. Why oh why can I not pick the right rig outs?!
But then I remembered dear Isadora and what happened when SHE tried to show off...and that picked me up immensely. Lets elaborate!




Isadora Duncan, darling of the 1920's art scene, world renowned dancer, believed by many to be the originator of the modern dance movement - now you KNOW she'd be a fashiony showoff, just look at the picture, what a stylish GEE BAG. Well SICK, Isadora, SICKENER INDEED - look what you get...
Isadora went on a fashionable drive in a fashionable car and her fashionable flowing scarf caught the fashionable air gusting beautifully by and stylishly blew towards the ground where it got caught in the trendy wheels of the car and choked her to death, almost decapitating her hip and happening head. Seriously.

Now we move to the Isadora of our times:



Our multicultural society is a true melting pot, each novel friend from a new country can teach us about other ways of life, different ways of looking at things, mixing the old and new, foreign and local. Glorious.

Here's two things that shouldn't mix though - burkas and go-karts. A Muslim woman was recently killed in Sydney when her burka got entangled in the wheels of her zippy little mo-mo. A terrible tragedy, but for some strange reason, the newspaper article I read about it in also informs us that you can ride the go-karts for up to 15 minutes at a time! Deadly!




Another celebrity some might be familiar with is Jerry Fuchs (that's an amusing name), the drummer from !!! (I HATE that they insist you pronounce it 'ChikChikChik' - oh, here's my band name '^*£&££^', you pronounce it 'Peggy', bah!) and The Juan McLean.
Mr Fuchs was indeed fucked when he was riding a freight elevator which got stuck between floors. He and a friend decided to pull back the metal doors and make a jump for it. His friend landed safely but poor Jerry's top caught on the elevator, swinging him back into the open shaft where he plummeted, as Lydia Deetz would say, to his death.

What can we learn from these tragedies? Should we not wear anything flowy? Should we go for skin tight? Wear bright colours to warn oncoming traffic in the dark? Who knows? Not me.
At least, if you have to go - which we all do - it might be good to be remembered as a true fashion victim, whose cutting edge chic may have contributed to your doom but by God you looked great when you croaked.

There are worse ways. Like this for instance-




Tis good to be back on Blog Street


PUTRID DUNNE

The Beauty Spot

The Beauty Spot @ Dakota lounge is a fabulous semi new night brought to us by the Fabulous people at Style Nation.Every Thursday night from 7pm the back area of Dakota on South William St is transformed into a Treasure chest of vintage and quirky fashions and also a one stop Beauty pit stop for those of you in need of a make up lesson or touch up!Each week there are four to five different stalls set up with a fine selection of clothes and accessories (including myself and my ridiculous vintage bits )and also a team of make up artists on hand who will happily fix your face and make you more presentable for that accidental night out that will almost certainly happen with the €5 cocktails!!!yummmmmmy!Prices are pretty reasonable and make up top ups are free so all in all the only question is-WHY HAVE YOU NOT BEEN HERE YET?come along and celebrate all things Burlesque!Thursday June 17th from 7pm x