TV chat-shows in the 1980s depended a lot on The Drunken Celebrity. In Britain or Ireland this usually meant inviting (for no reason whatsoever) George Best or Oliver Reed, leaving plenty of alcohol in their dressing room, and then gasping in mock horror as they slurred, swore and staggered their way into the next morning's tabloids. It was cynical, depressing and strangely compelling.

In France this role was filled by the country's greatest ever pop songwriter, Serge Gainsbourg. On one of his many notorious television appearances he burned a 500 franc banknote - an illegal act in France.

However, his most infamous antic will always be the time in 1986 when he was a guest on a show called "Champs-Elysées" alongside a young and (then) squeaky-clean Whitney Houston, in her first year as a worldwide star.

Having sung her smash hit 'Saving All My Love For You', Whitney was brought by presenter Michel Drucker (still the Pat Kenny of bourgeois French TV) over to the couch where Serge was waiting. Fairly well tanked up by this stage, Serge gallantly kissed her hand and then proceeded to give Whitney the full force of his charm.

Hands all over her (and with a troublemaking look in his eye) he complemented her in slurred English on her looks before delivering his smoothest chat-up line: 'I want to f**k her'.

Whitney, in fairness to her, reacted in good humour. After gasping playfully at his naughty word, she calmed Serge down by holding his hand for the rest of the interview. And Gainsbourg, for his part, apologised almost immediately.

By contrast, the panicking presenter Drucker (in a Kenny-style lack of coolness) tried to convince Whitney that what Serge had IN FACT said was 'you are very beautiful' - to which Serge responded by clarifying that what he had indeed said was 'I want to f**k her'.

Today, of course, it is still shocking to say you want to sleep with Whitney Houston, but for altogether different reasons.

Re-live the greatest chat-up line of all right here. Fortunately, all the important parts are in English:

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Last night I switched on to RTE and caught the first episode of a documentary series entitled, "The Modest Adventures of David O'Doherty", in which our titular hero attempted to cycle from Dublin to Galway in one day so that he could perform a comedy gig at the Kings Head Pub to a small audience of NUIG students.

There are a number of things to be said about this programme set up. O'Doherty is unique among Irish comedians in that he makes himself the butt of the audience's laughter with a somewhat Beckettian, idiot savant stage personality and a line in quirky, one chord songs that he bashes out on a small, Casio keyboard. Whereas comics like Tommy Tiernan, Dara O'Briain and Des Bishop have made a name for themselves with their smug, desperately unfunny, too clever by half harrangues, inviting the audience to laugh at some dumb target or other outside of themselves, O'Doherty makes himself the target in much the same way that the American comedian Emo Philips had done previously. O'Doherty was true to form in this programme in that his chosen attire was a set of ladies' gym attire, old sneakers and a cycling helmet that was far too small for his noggin. Not only that but his chosen steed was not a full carbon road bike with cleat pedals but a battered old commuter bike with dodgy wheels and a back carrier onto which he lashed his keyboard, wrapped in a white, plastic, shopping bag. No one in their right mind would have confused this hapless loser with Sean Kelly.

The reason he chose to cycle the route in the first place was to emulate his hero, Tour de France winner, Stephen Roche and he figured that with enough drive and desire he could cover the 219 kilometres within one day. The average distance of a stage of the Tour De France, using the 2006 route as a guide, is 172km and I know amateur cycle enthusiasts who train relentlessly all year so that they can travel over to France to complete just one stage of the Tour, so O'Doherty certainly didn't set his sights low regarding the challenge he set himself, and that is not even factoring in Ireland's notoriously windy, rainy weather which decided to make an appearance in the show with a day long storm that provided unrelenting wind and rain coming from the Atlantic to challenge him even more.

O'Doherty had no team back up for his cycle, unthinkable for anyone attempting such a long route, he forbade the film crew to help him and his only food intake for the day consisted of some soggy sandwiches and a banana. After nine hours on the road and 100km from his goal, O'Doherty's legs gave way; what cyclists call 'the knock' or 'the bonk' and stopped working, requiring him to be transported by his sympathetic crew to the gig in Galway where he appeared far from happy on stage and performed a song detailing what he called his, "mild super powers". The programme narration duly put his failure to complete the route as being down to him being unprepared for the challenge, declared that it was the end of his dreams of getting fit and pointed out that he had wasted two hours on the side of the road attempting to fix a puncture; so I am unsure exactly how long he was cycling for but I put his average speed at somewhere between 13km and 17km an hour.

I am a life long leisure cyclist and I can assure you that doing 119km in one day on a bike is, far from being a failure, a bona fide athletic achievement. Most one day charity cycles in Ireland, include the Peter McVerry challenge, average around 100 - 130km and staged cycles average 100km per day with rest days built in. The people who participate in them usually have to undergo extensive training to ensure that they are fit enough to both take part and complete the route in a certain time and, when they do, they are fully backed up with medics, special sports diets and mechanics.

I watched O'Doherty on his trek with both admiration and, it must be said, much mirth. His deadpan expression as each indignity of the road was meted out was priceless but I was surprised that he chose, unlike his frequently self satisfied comedic peers, to portray his achievement as an umitigated failure. Subsequently, it occured to me that his position was artistic. Here is a guy choosing to show triumph as failure, to go against the grain of the 'what a great little nation we are' and instead to suggest that the Irish can fail and fail big. Furthermore, his choice of cycling is interesting in that it harks back to an Ireland mired in poverty and failure. Tim Hilton, in his book on cycling entitled "One More Kilometre and We're in the Showers" opined that one of the reasons why Ireland produced such great cyclists as Roche and Kelly was precisely because of the country's reduced circumstances at the time of their development as athletes. O'Doherty's comedy is in answer to the back slapping of the Riverdance generation and it may well be an augur of things to come, given the OECD's stark warnings for our economy and their view that there is no such thing as a 'soft landing'.

One more thing, if O'Doherty wants to show that he has mild super powers then I would encourage him to get back on his bike and sign up for one of the many worthy charity cycles that are held in Ireland such as the Joe Loughman Randonnée, the Tony Griffin Foundation Cycle or the Welcome Home Wexford Cycle. He could certainly complete the course on his present form and with his media profile he could easily raise the much needed funds required by so many charitable organisations in this country. Now, thats the work of a real superhero, however mild.

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The Infadels were the latest of the upcoming British acts flown in from London for the Bacardi Sino Sessions, the series of concerts in Beijing and Shanghai promoting the American rum with the bat logo. When we arrived at the Star Live (the 1,000-capacity venue which hosted Sonic Youth last month) for the latest installment in series support act Kela Kela, also from London, was winding down its beat-boxy set. Unfortunately much of the between-sets exodus didn’t return and the Infadels played dancey, full-hearted tunes like Love Like Semtex and Stories From the Bar to a half-empty, but lively, house. Their set and sound justified the comparisons with fellow disco rockers Primal Scream.

Overseeing the evening was Nathaniel Davis, one of the partners in China-based promotions company Spli-t. The affable American, who handpicked the London-based Infadels for the trip to China, is getting a reputation for professionalism, particularly since a well-run Sonic Youth tour. The Bacardi Sessions is one of two drinks-sponsored music events Davis has managed, the other being a Chivas DJ tour of China’s clubs. This diehard U2 fan has been spending Bacardi’s money well - he hired Beijing’s best sound-man, another relocated American music professional, Jamie Welton, to oversee sonic quality of the Infadels show. Good sound is often a rarity at Beijing gigs, hence Welton is routinely called on by major visiting acts coming to Beijing and Shanghai.

The Infadels came running on to crash into a solid set of their synth pop rock. The band was up for it so more shame the punters didn’t show. A half capacity crowd split 60-40 in expats compared to locals. That’s disappointing, considering Bacardi Sino Sessions are all about getting more Chinese to drink Bacardi. There were no queues at the numerous bars at the Star Live – punters exchanged RMB20 coupons for Bacardi-only drinks. RMB20 was a good deal for a Bacardi Breezer or the ironically named Cuba Libre – named no doubt for the flack Bacardi got for calling its rum Cuban – the company abandoned the island for America some time ago. 

Downstairs however, in the huge Tango nite-club, Bacardi seemed to be shifting a lot of volume. Throughout the building, glass display cases of Bacardi bottles, spot lit and set in copious amounts of red velvet carpet were making the point. A Porsche, a couple of mini-Coopers and plenty of BMWs by the door suggested there’s plenty of money about – so the RMB120 ticket price for the Infadels show would have been inconsequential - but the well flaunted money kicking about is apparently for venues like Tango, which play a mix of international and Mando pop hits while showy patrons alternate between the dance floor and sets of tables laden with drink and cigarettes. That’s a night out for Chinese, followed by afters at Jindingxuan, the 24-hour dim sum restaurant next door. Rock, even with cheap rum, is still a minority taste in the People’s Republic.

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There have been so many Irish acts playing in the Paris region lately that your blogger, despite his best intentions, hasn't been able to see them all.

We caught Duke Special and Nina Hynes, of course, but we didn't see The High Llamas, Leanne Harte or The Immediate, who we fear took our absence as a snub, causing existential problems that saw them breaking up on their return to Eire. Sorry about that.

Anyway, we promise to be more diligent - with immediate effect. Neosupervital play at the Fleche d'Or in Paris tonight (1 June). 

We'll be there; report to follow. Promise.

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Warning: 
This blog entry starts out with a flimsy but deceptive rock music angle to lure a reader in. This is a trick. Because - before you know it - it descends full-on into all sorts of political stuff.

Whether the widely derided Rock the Vote initiative had any impact in terms of getting greater numbers of younger voters to vote is something we will probably never know. I for one have my doubts that they did succeed on this front. But in an earlier posting on Rock The Vote I lamented how the initiative did not have any chance (or apparent willingness) to address what are two other key barriers to getting a greater proportion of 18-30 year olds voting, namely:

• Not being registered to vote (or being registered to do so in another part of the country from where you live / work / study),
• The (since time-eternal) imposition of the party in power of a week day election.

Now it's not very rawk'n'roll but indulge me a bit here as, below, I delve into the latter of these two points.

The deal is that Ireland is completely out of step with the vast majority of other European countries in terms of when elections are held. Our elections (and referenda for that matter) have always been held on week days, putting a downward pressure on the level of turn out. But take a tour of continental Europe and you'll fine the vast majority of other countries hold their elections on a weekend: France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Belgium, Portugal, Finland, Romania, Iceland – I could go on - all hold their elections on a weekend. That the turnout in these countries - young voters included - is higher than a weekday Irish election (or referendum) will come as no surprise (sure 84% of the entire French electorate, in between reading entries on Aidan's French Letter blog, turned out not once but TWICE to vote in each of the two rounds of their recent Presidential elections, and both rounds were - bien sûr - held on a Sunday).

I think that even if Rock The Vote were carried out properly (which as a minimum that would mean not launching at the last minute nor having an inane dependency on pointless YouTube clips) is not on its own going to cut the mustard. So what to do? Let me stick my idealistic but naïve political neck out here and say that the only way to be sure it is going to happen is (sharp intake of breath) to get it engraved into the law of the land. Maybe it's piece of legislation that is required, or maybe an amendment to the Constitution – I sure haven't a clue. Either way it ain’t going to happen overnight, if at all. But if there is to be any chance some new stuff must happen. And start to happen now.

Key to it must be to building up some sort of momentum and visibility for weekend voting and why it's a good thing (greater participation in the democratic process, greater mandate for elected politicians, more yuff votes being cast meaning greater interest from politicians on youth issues, bring us in line with our sophisticated continental cousins, etc, etc). If all this becomes more visible, more prominent in our (cough, splutter) national conversations, you never know, the occasional elected politician (or upstart seeking to steal the seat of a sitting chancer politician) might take a bit of notice. They might see it as a potential vote winner, or an issue to embrace in order to differentiate themselves from other vote chasers they're up against. Or so goes the thinking. In fact imagine this was done years ago, we this week could have had FF, as they shadow-box their way towards piecing together a coalition, sitting down with an independent TD who says FF could count on him or her on the condition that they legislate for weekend elections.

Talk etc is fine, but might there be an opportunity in the coming month or two to actually do something? Here's my thinking. Some of the biggest universities in the country (the NUI colleges & TCD, stuffed with plenty of Irish yuff last time I checked) actually have their own political voices in the Oireachtas. Between them NUI & TCD elect 6 senators to the (60 seat) Irish Senate and voting to fill these 6 seats for the next sitting of the Oireachtas closes on July 24th (graduates of these universities each have a postal vote). Now I am fully aware that the Irish Senate does not strut about the place with the same legislative power as the Dail, but – hey – it could be a start.

As a TCD graduate I have a vote (and in the last weeks candidates’ publicity materials have already started to choke up my letter box) so I'm going to give something a whirl. I’ve decided my vote for this year's TCD Senate election will be determined on the basis of who (if any!) among the candidates is committed to supporting legislation for weekend elections and will progress 'the cause' if elected to the Senate. They may be powerless to do anything of real impact - I honestly don’t know - but I am going to drop an email to each candidate, asking for their position on 'the cause' and see how each responds.

I do note though that 2 of the 3 sitting TCD Senators (David Norris and Shane Ross) manage to land generous and regular lumps of coverage for themselves in various Irish meedja outlets, nice potential platforms they could leverage to raise awareness of 'the cause' – if they so desired... Anyway watch this space for any update on what I hear back from the candidates.

Any graduates of NUI out there think this is worth pursuing? If so maybe drop a line to the Senate candidates on your ballot paper and ask them where they stand on this question (your letter box should by now be getting clogged with their propoganda)? Or - more likely - you'd prefer to ask them if they would introduce legislation to ban writers of music blogs from spouting on about politics...

Anyway, there does end the political stuff. Back to some rock and roll, courtesy of Aidan's aforementioned French Letter blog.

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"My candidate for the worst movie-star director of all time has to be Clint Eastwood. Because he's still a big star and he stays on budget, Hollywood continues to indulge his directorial fantasies, yet in nearly 40 years of half-assed attempts at directing he has never developed a style of his own. Every directorial chop Eastwood displays was stolen from Don Siegel or Sergio Leone - real filmmakers who taught him what little he knows. Clint's only original theme, present from Play Misty for Me all the way to Million Dollar Baby, is that of a paternalistic white male who exercises the power of life or death over a woman: invariably, he chooses to kill her." Alex Cox, May 25th 2007

Isn't that one of the best Hollywood Sacred Cow assassinations of all time?

It's from a recent Alex Cox column in the Film and Music section of the Guardian newspaper. Alex Cox, for those of who may not be up to speed on your bitter independent film directors, is British and is best known for his 80s low budget output - Sid 'n' Nancy, Repo Man and, perhaps, Straight to Hell starring the late great Joe Strummer. I know him best for his simply brilliant  early 90s late night BBC2 slot, Moviedrome, where he introduced his favourite movies and seemed to have free reign. For young impressionable movie fans like yours truly, Moviedrome's diet of sexy, sometimes violent, but always intriguing cult films was manna from heaven. He's probably more responsible for this blog than anyone.

A list of the movies shown on Moviedrome with some of Cox's characteristically dry intros can be found here. What a list! Opening with The Wicker Man, through to Barbarella, Five Easy Pieces, Get Carter and Badlands, Moviedrome was a movie education. I note that in the 1992 season, Cox showcased a Play Misty for Me directed by Clint Eastwood... ahem...

Cox's assassination of Clint Eastwood may be tongue in cheek (maybe?). But there is definitely some truth in the observation that Eastwood is a director without a signature note. Unlike his contemporaries (Scorcese, De Palma etc) who's movies are identifiable almost from the opening reel, Eastwood's movies cannot be regarded as the work of an auteur. Eastwood's movies are watched almost out of duty (except for the truly wonderful Unforgiven).

Anyway, as Cox is an inspiration for this column, I thought it appropriate that I assassinate my own Sacred Cow. And I invite you all to do the same below.

Lars von Trier. Even saying his name makes me feel bilious. I've walked out of two movies in my life (I've also been marched out of a movie... but that's a subject for an entirely different blog) - one was Out of Africa (I was young and bored). The other was The Idiots, a movie about idiots, directed by an idiot, made for idiots. Von Trier's movies are pretentious, affected, disheartening, wilful, empty, intellectually bankrupt and just plain threatening. Letting his actors stay in character (i.e. actors pretend to be spastic for our entertainment) for hours on set, he even claimed this technique as his own even though the great Robert Altman, in honour of whom this blog is named, had been doing it for years. Yet this sadistic man has devotees all through the movie-loving world. He sagely agrees that he is difficult with his actresses as this extraordinary interview with Newsweek describes under the headline, Meet the Punisher.... Couldn't have put it better myself.

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