We're all well used to celebrities spouting rubbish, but you could normally expect Colm Meaney to be a bit more sensible. But you'd be wrong.
Meaney, quite justifiably, says he wants to see a coalition of the Left take power, but then rather sullies that sentiment by saying he could see Gerry Adams as Taoiseach.
"Why not?" he asks, "He's a good politician. He would certainly be an improvement."
However, on the same day his comments were reported, the family of IRA victim Jean McConville launched a scathing attack on Adams for "dancing on her grave" by standing for election in the very constituency where McConville was murdered and dumped.
Meanwhile, fresh from his utter humiliation during the leaders' debate (bringing up the DUP shows where his head still is. I guess you can take the terrorist out of the North, but you can't take the North out of the terrorist) Adams then proved what a great democrat he is by sending legal letters to the Evening Herald trying to silence them. Don't worry, he failed.
But best of all was his remark, repeated yesterday on Newstalk that: "The Universal Social Charge is a gross act of terrorism."
Well, if anyone is going to able to identify an act of terrorism, gross or otherwise, then it is surely this man. Honestly, what sort of person is going to vote for him?
The Luas doesn't pass anywhere near my incredibly palatial mansion, so I seldom have need to use it.
On the few occasions I have, it was a bit like walking on to the set of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.
Junkies and crackpots seem to have colonised the Red Line and while there's no doubt that it provides a good service, I prefer to stick to buses or taxis. Well taxis, mainly, because I hate being around other people.
But one mate of mine had a rather fantastic travelling experience on the Luas yesterday.
At the Jervis Street stop -- surprise, surprise -- a pair of star-crossed young lovers got on board -- and they were completely tripping.
Talking in that lovely, nasal cadence that is common with these scumbags, the bloke asked his female companion: "How many microdots have you dropped?"
Now, for those who don't know, micro dots are a particularly potent dose of concentrated LSD.
"I don't know, "she replied, "about four or five."
"Jaysus, are you mad," he asked, aghast, "I gave me Ma one once and she went bleedin' mental."
He then got a phone call and answered, saying: "Are you in jail? You're not? Ah, it's just that I thought the number that came up was Wheatfield."
Honestly, it's hard to tell which is the weirder -- giving your Ma a hit of acid or virtually having Wheatfield Prison on speed dial.
Look, we all know that teachers lead a stressful lifestyle.
Sure, they get three months off in the summer, but when you consider that they are now legally incapable of even giving a bold child a stern look because it might hurt their sense of self-esteem, it must be an exasperating job at times -- after all, where's the fun of working with children if you can't make them cry every now and then?
But while I happily admit to being a hardliner when it comes to pupil discipline -- I was a little shit in school, so I can only imagine how irritating it must have been to be a teacher -- even I would baulk at the approach of Welsh school teacher Elizabeth Davies, who has been sacked from her job in Neath.
And the reason?
Well, there's a large Asian population in the school and any time a pupil came in smelling of curry, she would put them in a corner and spray them with air freshener, saying: "There's a waft coming from paradise."
She was also fond of spraying the stuff over any kid she suspected of farting and she had a habit of forcing any child who wet himself to stand in a corner on a piece of newspaper and wait for their parents to pick them up and take them home for the rest of the day.
In her defence, she claimed that: "I am not a babysitter."
Jesus -- just as well.
When drug-dealer Luke Walsh-Pinnock was caught with a half a kilo of smack, he was sentenced to four years in jail.
And Kilburn police decided that in an effort to try to stop the levels of criminality they were going to start naming and shaming people.
And, when he got out, Walsh-Pinnock was one of those whose face was put on leaflets which detailed his crime, his conviction and his sentence.
And guess what? He's suing the police for the "humiliation" he suffered as a result of people knowing what he did.
In fact, a spokeswoman for the family has come out and said: "Luke's been humiliated in the local community, which is against his human rights. We're taking this to court. Luke is a good boy who is kind to his family."
Well, with the kind of money you'd make from moving that much product, he could certainly afford to be good to his family.
As I wrote yesterday, I completely forgot about Valentine's Day and was suitably punished. But things could have been a lot worse if I had remembered and got 'er indoors this gift: naming a cockroach after her.
A zoo in the Bronx is hosting an exhibition of 58,000 giant hissing Madagascar cockroaches and in an effort to raise money and awareness, they are offering naming rights for individual roaches.
The zoo's site says: "Flowers will wilt, chocolate will melt. Roaches are forever."
Roaches may indeed be forever, but that's more than you could say for your marriage if that was your Valentine's gift.