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Illustrations by Kristoffer Platt

I’m not going to start at the start, but I do have to start somewhere so I’m going rewind to just after Hurricane Katrina. I was driving my truck north out of New Orleans, when I caught a glimpse of a Toe standing at a bus stop, bags packed, waiting to move. I thought to myself, I have a nice roomy truck with a spare seat, even though my wipers broke two weeks ago, why shouldn’t I offer this poor toe a free ride?

He got into the passenger seat, “Can you take me to the airport?”
“Sure thing buddy, say, what’s your name?”
“Most folks call me Wicked, Wicked Toe.”
“Alright then Wicked, most folks call me Joe, Joe Davisham Walsh.”

It was on that first car journey that I realized just how wicked Wicked Toe actually was. He had one hell of a chip on his shoulder, and still does to this day. But I knew as soon as he stepped into that truck with me that this was fate and we were going to do great things together, Wicked Toe and I. See we shared a common love for all things musical and now, I don’t like to admit it, but I find his wickedness kind of charming these days.

Anyways, the long and the short of this here tale is that there was a spare seat on the plane to Ireland that Wicked had booked onto, and I just couldn’t let him go alone…..

……………………………………………………..

I awoke this morning with a fire alarm exploding in my ear. I say ear, singular, as I only got one. Just the way I was born, or so my mother says, it didn’t fall off or nothing sinister like that. I have tried a variety of hairstyles and hats in my time to disguise my lack of ear on the right hand side, but nowadays I have just resigned myself to my ear, singular. It’s alone, but it’s good. And the ladies seem to have a particular interest in my onlyoneear? Which I have to say pleases me. A lot.

With my tongue stuck to the lining of my alcohol inspired mouth, I looked over at a similarly conditioned Wicked Toe, who was most inconvenienced by this irritating sound, at 5:37am this morning. We both waited for the “False Alarm” to be acknowledged, but no such acknowledgement came. A vaguely familiar girl bounded into the room with noted authority hollering, “Fire, Fire, Fire, Everybody Out, Everybody Out.” Irked Wicked Toe explained to me calmly that he would be going nowhere, “Well, can you smell any burning?” No, but not the point, school had hypnotized me into exiting the building quickly and calmly and in an orderly fashion…. What ever that is?

As I sat smoking my first cigarette of the day, I carefully collected fragmented memories from my evening at the Dublin Fringe Festival. Wicked and I had seen a band that surely tickled our chins, Bocs Social, who played at the Bosco Tent on the Wednesday night. The band are a bunch of boys that hail from Wicklow. They’re a suitably funky shake of Indie, Ska, Punk, and Pop, and on stage their inexhaustible energy made for a darn fine show I can tell you. The trumpet buttered songs like “Whoa” with a charming and authentic 80s Ska sound made Wicked and I sit up straight and listen; the catchy Indie tune leaves you interested and wanting more.

As they bounced around the stage these boys communicated a playful attitude to what they do, which made them all the more charismatic. Doing covers of stuff like The Specials “Dawning of a New Era” and a sound number of their own melodic and spicy tunes produced a truly entertaining show. Wicked Toe raised his eyebrow when Bocs Social offered up a cover of Peter Andre’s “Sweat”. A la la la la long…. You know the one. But I have to say, in my humble opinion the guys nailed it. They bounced about the stage and leant the annoyingly-familiar-but-can’t-remember-what-the-song-is a touch of cheeky soul, which seems to be what Bocs Social are very talented at.

Well folks, that’s enough for now, speak to you all soon,

Joe Davisham Walsh

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