My name's Colette and I'm a Gleek. There are 23 definitions of the word Gleek in the online urban dictionary, including references to saliva and other bodily secretions.
But, of course, there's only one real explanation. To be a Gleek means to be obsessed with the TV show Glee, as in to be a geek about Glee. If you haven't switched on yet, you're missing some of the funniest, foot- tapping, finger-clicking, non-PC television around. There is a support group though for men who are Gleeks. It's at the corner of a row of tents and a threepenny piece.
The Midas touch in Glee is brought by Jane Lynch who plays Sue Sylvester, TV's new Queen of Mean. Sue has her own slot on local TV, Sue's Corner, weighing in with un-PC pleas such as "give me one day a year when I'm not visually assaulted by uglies and fatties. Seriously, these retinas need a day off."
The object of her lack of affection is the Glee club leader Will, who sports curly hair, triggering the immortal line: "I can't trust a man with curly hair. I can't help picturing small birds laying sulphurous eggs in there and I find it disgusting."
Get rid of excess ballast on your TV viewing schedule and make room for the show with the tagline 'A biting comedy for the underdog in all of us'. Get your Gleek on, on TV3 every Wednesday at 8pm.
An appearance on the Ray D'Arcy radio show on Today FM this week reminded me why it's so ingenious. Listening to Ray is like Mammyporn. All the new mammies can't believe they missed it when they were childless and working.
They and the SAHDs (stay at home dads) can't get enough of the show that can tell you why plastic cups or bowls in a dishwasher never get dried, or where Dr Pixie McKenna from Channel 4's Embarrassing Bodies can tell you how to cure that rash.
Today FM is an old stomping ground of mine, but I worked there when the station was beamed from a building on Jervis Street and you could smoke in the studios. I don't think it was actually permitted but would you ask Eamon Dunphy to stub out his?
I think they got some sort of a grant to have me back on the airwaves and ask some pressing questions like 'what's the most difficult word to say reading the news?', ('anaesthetist', by a country mile), 'how or why do the women who come to work here get TV3ed?', (the hole in the ozone layer hovers over the TV3 studios and is directly attributable to vast quantities of Elnett hairspray) and 'how can one person hold down three roles at the station?'
I get the hint, Ray -- you think they're stuck. Did someone say 'jack of all trades, master of none?' Well, that's the New World Order. The number of jobs you can do is index-linked; the more the better in uncertain times.
I forgot to tell Ray when talking about the 'TV3 look' that the 'on air' women in TV3 get weighed once a week. The men don't have to, built like thoroughbreds, the lot.
Much like independent television, independent radio is about double, even treble-jobbing. I worked on the breakfast show reading news, produced a weekend show and did female voices on Gift Grub which included dodgy impressions of Miriam O' Callaghan, The Corrs, any woman connected to Bertie and several nameless Cork women. I had these down pat as my mother hails from the real capital. I'm on the first Gift Grub CD and can now say, 'I've got an album', without skipping a beat.
My stint on Ray's show was short-lived; about 15 minutes before a shepherd's crook whipped me stage left, but I loved every second.
Disclaimer. If, by the end of this column you still believe the women get weighed in TV3, you're way too gullible and would probably fall for the same one we tell the work experience: 'I'll be in my trailer...'