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Friday 19 January 2018

'De-trogging' in the dressing room as Ryan hammers door

Getting ready for her 'Late Late' date, manhunter Sinead O'Connor fears she now looks like a 'fairly butch lesbian'

Friday night. I'm sitting smoking in dressing room 4 at 'Or-Tee-Ee'. Keeping the executives and Ryan out as don't want anyone seeing me 'til I look pretty, which will be in approximately 40 years. We're still waiting on the diggers and forklifts.

Of course, wasn't poor Ryan, God bless him, only trying to tear down the door of the dressing room to get at me. But I said not until full 'de-trogging' has taken place. And I can tell you it's been a VERY long time since I was 'de-trogged' so we still don't know (as of now, 22.10 ) how long it will take or if it will at all be successful. If not I shall go on with a brown paper bag over my head.

I have my specs with me. Am debating should I wear them. If I don't I won't spot any 'possibles' in the audience or crew. If the question should come up "Why was she looking all over the place like an eejit?" She was checking the 'possibles'.

Stephen the stage manager has just knocked at the door to ask "Do you need to avail of our make-up facilities?" I've told him, which is true, that at this moment (22.15) I am already glorious.

Not once that I ever had the face done at RTE did I leave the beauty room without stifling mortified tears. Pretending I like it. "Yeah yeah thanks.." Then RUN to the toilet desperately trying to wash it off. Which was hard in Gay's day because the toilet paper in the dressing rooms was tracing paper. Say what you will about Pat Kenny, when he came into power the dressing room toilet paper became soft and I am happy to say that as of this moment, tonight, it remains soft. A wise move on the part of RTE. One doesn't want itchy risks when trying to be seductive in an interview situation.

My terror of the RTE make-up department is based on my having been the victim there too many times of crimes against foundation colours specifically. I have too often been the silent witness of many a crime done to the faces of other women. The colours lurking in RTE bags are from 1973.

Inspired by them years ago, in my mind for amusement, I invented 'The Make-Up Police'.

You could be done for crimes against make-up. You could be clamped for having on orange foundation. Ticketed for crimes against lip-liner (dark outline, pale inside) Your make-up bag swept and seized for inspection. And an analysis of your entire psychology be made. If you have not updated from orange to actual skin colours by x date you will have to hand in your brushes and sponges.

And a file will be sent to Alan Shatter who will decide if a trial by jury is necessary and/or an immediate custodial sentence.

On the advice of my beloved friend Anthony we have sneaked in his friend Aisling in a potato sack. She is a fantastic make-up artist and she has now, from the neck up, made me gorge-licious. It's now 22.22.

Still wearing trashed white shirt and black pants I wore at the picnic though so I look like my head has been superimposed onto a picture of a fairly butch lesbian. Not many people know I have tattoos. And I'm wearing a strapless dress. I have words in red on my forearms. People sometimes shriek "Gott in Himmel!!!! Vot heff you done to yourself?" thinking I'm a cutter. I don't want to be another twat explaining their tattoos. So hope Ryan doesn't ask. (in end he didn't. Hurray!!!). Petrified now. 22.29. I will be on in half an hour. Got to get me nipple tassles on. Will check in briefly after the show.

Home now. Went swimmingly. Managed to mention vibrators and Estonian escort agencies without ever having intended to. Let me tell you, the tiny town of Tallin in Estonia has hundreds of male escorts and Ireland has like three and one of them has to be flown in from the UK! And they aren't at all hairy. No. Not good enough.

Ladies, having conducted 'extensive' investigations, I conclude that the old-fashioned month-long matchmaking festival in Lisdoonvarna (kissdoonvarna?) is the answer to our problems. The place will be crawling with decent old-fashioned hairy men as desperate as us for the safe smooch.

Being old-fashioned they may at first, out of pure politeness, protest -- but from what studying I've done I conclude the whole lot of them down there are only praying every moment of their lives to be corrupted by 21st Century women. I myself will not go because all the men would want me as I'm so uber kiss-elicious. So it just wouldn't be fair on the other ladies.

Sunday Independent

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