The F Plus - 62: The Private Language of Sinead O'Connor

Episode Date: November 4, 2011

Celebrity is a powerful but complicated status to keep on yourself. Some achieve by accident, some achieve by will, but then suddenly twenty years have gone by and you realize the ticket sales aren't what they used to be. Take Sinéad O'Connor for example. Responsible for a double platinum album in 1990 and the center of the biggest SNL scandal since John Belushi invited Fear on stage, now we're nearing the end of 2011, and she still wants you to know she's in the mix. This week, The F Plus learns a little something about lurrve.

I would like to clarify, the sex with the banana took place 12 years ago. This means I'm well douched and good to go. Fantastic. You got a way of walking You got a way of talking And it's something about you And now I know I never ever want to be without you.

I want to be haunted by the ghost. I want to be haunted by the ghost. Hey there, this is the F Plus Podcast. Terrible Things, Red with Enthusiasm. My name's Lemon. And I'm Jimmy Franks. Jimmy Franks, so nice to have you. How you doing tonight? You know, I'm doing really well. I was having a rough couple of weeks, but I'm just kind of cooled out.

I'm feeling much more mellow these days. That's terrific. Nice to have you in the room. What have you been listening to lately, by the way? Well, actually, funny you ask. That's kind of the thing. I went back, went through my old CDs, been listening to some female vocalists of the 80s and 90s. Like the Indigo Girls, for example. Oh, dear. Sarah McLachlan. Just really gets you in a good head space.

Okay. Are you mixing in Dar Williams? Yeah, absolutely. How about Sinead O'Connor? You listen to Sinead O'Connor? Oh, yeah. Yeah? Of course.

What's your favorite Sinead O'Connor? You listen to Sinead O'Connor? Oh, yeah. Yeah? Of course. What's your favorite Sinead O'Connor song that isn't nothing compares to you? See, I just caught you in a lie, didn't I? Yeah, yeah. Well, I've become recently a little interested in Sinead O'Connor and her whole sort of public life. Do you know anything about her recently and what she's been up to? Maybe she's got a new album out? That's probably true, but that's not really relevant to this podcast.

What actually is more happening is Sinead O'Connor is going through some sort of, I guess, sexual awakening, and she's decided to share it with the world. She's been taking out... She's been doing op-eds in the local paper

in Ireland. She's been taking out ads, and she's telling people that she's available and she needs some dick. Oh my. You don't say. Yeah, that is what I say. So that's what

she's trying to put out to the world, and I figure, as a service to her, I think we should help her out. Yeah, spread the word. Right, exactly. Go tell it on the mountain. All right, let's get to the readers. All the girls ask what's in my car seat. Kind of shy, but that's the kind of girl I am. In the room tonight we have Jimmy Franks.

The difficult brown. Bump Girl. No knob cheese. Nutshell Gulag. I want my whole face and neck sore from stubbly men sniffing me. Isfahan. Coming to F Plus Live 3, 10,000 ways to say Anal Sex by Sinead O'Connor. Bunnybread! Hi ladies, I'm stubbly, smelly,

and willing to go down the Josh Highway. And lemon. Fuck the real enemy! I come awake in a horny morning mood and have a proper regal in the naughty naked mood roll against my body

get me where you want me what happens next is the drive it's also very Also very rude. Is Sinead about to hump her truck? The man who runs my site will protectively suggest I may want to visit the bathroom for a few intimate moments and a subsequent cold shower before deciding to post this on the site, but I will of course ignore him as it's too late now and the hormones are having the best of me. Is that a feminization of hormones? Yes, her hormones. I recently read of a woman in America who married and regularly humps her truck. I don't yet own a truck, but I'm beginning to understand her head space.

And am worried I too may be so desperate for sex that within days I might run up the road and hump bay bray cabs whole fleet in one hour that's that's a real fear that you have okay she is a taxi whore 40 quid clear up afterward can't say fairer than that except maybe a photo for their website, which would be fine. My shit-uation, sexually slash affectionately speaking, is so dire that inanimate objects are starting

to look good, as are inappropriate and or unavailable men, and or inappropriate and or unavailable fruits and vegetables. Wait, what? How is a fruit inappropriate and or unavailable? Are you...

Right on. Oh, that cucumber's taken. I tell you, yams are looking like the winners. Oh, God! No. I wish you hadn't answered my question. No. Asking you shall receive.

Oh, thanks, Sinead. I actually do know a woman who is a performance artist from America. I have a photo of her being escorted arm-in-arm by two UK police men onto a plane back home because she humped a yam in the middle of her show. I just know that's going to happen to me if I don't take drastic action. Like, not humping a yam in the middle of your show. I would say that's going to happen to me if I don't take drastic action. Like, not humping a yam in the middle of your show. I would say humping a yam is a fairly drastic action. I think blogging about humping a yam

is a fairly drastic action. Well, let's cry for help at any rate. Needless to say, what I do for a living makes it hard for me to find men that only want me because they like my legendary arse. Legendaries in parentheses. Does Sinead O'Connor believe that she's Beyonce? Is that what's happening right here?

I don't know. Yet I am in the peak of my sexual prime and way too lovely to be living like a nun. And it's very depressing. So I've been pondering on whether or not I should join some Irish dating agencies. Of course, if I did, it would end up in papers, so I may as well save myself the registration fees. Besides which, a friend of mine uses dating agencies and half the men actually have wives.

Am in desperate need of a very sweet, sex-starved man. He must be no younger than 44. Must be living in Ireland, but I don't care if he is from the planet Zog. Must not be named Brian or Nigel. Oh, take that, assholes! Those are turn-offs. There are no gorgeous, nice, 44-plus men named Nigel. None of them.

First of all, you're assuming that gorgeous is one of her criteria. There are no yam-shaped men named Nigel. What is wrong with this world? Must be blind enough to think I'm gorgeous. Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. There are no yam-shaped men named Nigel. All right, all right. Has to be employed.

Am not fussy in what capacity generally, but vehicle clampers need not apply. Take that, vehicle clampers. I don't even know what that means, but fuck you guys. No, I ain't saying she's a gold digger. I ain't never seen Sinead O'Connor. Leather trouser-wearing guard eye, firemen, rugby players,

and Robert Downey Jr. will be given special consideration. As will literally anyone who applies. How is it special every time for everybody? I like me a hairy man, so buffed and or waxed need not apply. Well, but if I'm buffed and waxed and I

apply, won't I still get special consideration? Yes, literally anyone. However, I have some stipulations on the hair you possess. Okay, sure. No hair gel. No hair dryer use.

No hair dye. Stubble is a non-negotiable must. Any removal of stubble would be upsetting for me. Wait, you kind of have to! It's really hard to have stubble all the time! Yeah. No, you got those special shavers. You can click it down so that you just have, like, the...

Oh, yeah, yeah, the perma-shadow. Yeah. No aftershave. Must be very... Snuggly. Not just wham-bam. Must be wham-bam. No, she said, to be fair, she did say not just wham bam.

Oh, okay. It has to be wham bam followed by snuggly. Has to like his mother. Wait, must he say thank you ma'am afterwards? It is not specified here. Okay. Has to like his mother. Has to like his ex and or mothers of his children.

Okay. Has to live in own place. I must end now as I have a hot date with a banana. Ew. Applicants can apply through my secretary. She just goes... One of her stipulations should have been, must be squishy. So, so... Bananas and yams.

Are there any Bigfoot or Yeti living in Ireland? Because I think they'd have a good chance. Yeah, well, unless they're named Nigel. Or Brian. Alright, uh,

Jimmy Franks, there's another post from the same day. Oh, I'm sorry, there's another post from the same day. Oh, I'm sorry, no, 23-8-11. She clarifies a little bit. I've been repeatedly asked, will I do anal sex? Let me make it very clear. Any man I contemplate has to be into anal sex. contemplate has to be into anal sex.

It was a family paper, so they wouldn't have printed it. But let me now take time to make very clear that yes, I do anal. I love the idea that someone would, like,

just happen across Sinead O'Connor's site. Like, oh, I wonder if she's got a new album out. There's a paper for ad in the paper. These people happened across the ad in the paper, and we're like, I need to know. She's put a lot of stipulations here, but I've got one of my own. And in fact, I would be deeply unhappy if doing anal wasn't on the menu amongst everything else. Amongst everything else, unexplained dollar signs.

That is. So, if you don't like the difficult brown, don't apply. I've had reasonable complaints from lesbians that they have been excluded. This was terribly remiss of me, and I would now like to make it clear that women will also be very much considered. As will Brian's and Nigel's, since there were some complaints there too. Wow! She started out with some pretty

low standards, and then she lowered them from there. And there were people who were like, I don't meet your standards. Could you consider waiving them summarily? She said, sure. Excuse me, Sinead O'Connor, I'm married and I'm named Nigel,

but I still want to fuck you in the ass. Is that fine? Oh, you do anal? Well, splendid. Oh, how rude of me to discourage you. Oh, but I'm also 43. Fuck you. 43.

All right. Bunny bread. Now we're going to go a couple days later. How about one day later? Yeah, you're right. One day later. One day later, search called off. Search called off for now.

Suitable man found. Hands down winner. No competition. Thank you again to the Sunday Indu. Which, for some reason, she thinks Indu is the correct way to punctuate or abbreviate independent, but whatever. It's fine. the correct way to punctuate or abbreviate independent, but whatever. It's fine. That position has been filled by an

extremely sweet, kind, very respectful, considerate, but absolutely filthy uninhibited rude sex maniac named John. And no, I don't mean John Waters. We wouldn't assume you were.

John Waters like a twig. So John Waters, who's gay as all hell, he wants to fuck you in the ass, right? No, no, I mean, every time someone says their name is John, I just assume that they're named John Waters. John Waters has been co-hosting the F Plus for the past year.

And then the same day again! So, wait, yeah, so there's another post from the same day. I'm glad that things are working out really well for you, Sinead. So what's the other post that you have from this exact same day? Well, the campaign was resumed. Sadly,

the chosen winner of the quest for man has revealed pregnant girlfriend. Aww. the chosen winner of the quest for man has revealed pregnant girlfriend Therefore the campaign is resumed for anyone who is interested in applying. Must have sweetheart and filthy mind She didn't say no pregnant girlfriend so I guess Yeah I guess she didn't, absolutely

Okay Alright So there's a piece which i which is just a little bit too long um but it is titled shenaid's follow-on piece from last week's in today's irish sunday independent uncut version complete with all references to buttfuckery. I thought they called it buggery. Not Sinead O'Connor. You know what? Sinead O'Connor is an international lady.

No, you see, it's Irish, so it's spelt buttfuckery, but it's pronounced buggery. Oh, okay. Yeah, that fucking Gaelic is a weird language. All right, so, all right, I do have to do this, because this is really good, and it mentions her love affair with Adam Clayton, which I think is funny. For the confused, before we begin the article, may we explain, Ryan Turbedry is an Irish TV and radio presenter upon whom Sinead has quite the little crush, because he's very fucking snuggly. He hosts Ireland's largest chat show, The Late Late Show. Hands off, ladies! He's mine. Until either Dave Chappelle, Adam Clayton, or Robert Downey Jr.

come to claim me. I jest. I jest. All of those men just got a cold shiver down their spine. Feels like Jeanette O'Connor is crushing on me. He is far too sensible to be dealing with a crazy motherfucker such as myself. Enjoy, have fun, laugh.

And above all, contemplate anal sex now and then. I don't want to say Sinead's got a fixation, but Sinead's got a fixation. Okay. An open letter to Ryan Turbedry Baby, I'm supposed to write a follow-up To last week's plea for a man Not a yam, but I'm so inundated With offers that I'm holed up

Sorry In Planet of the Apes The only beauty parlor which will take me And even the only round the back door In the middle of the night But then I like a bit of that now and then, don't I? At this point, I'd say yes. What a 12-year-old!

I must say, my greatest amusement this week is that on this day last week, I had three followers on Twitter. Since I mentioned anal sex, I have almost 2,000. The funniest question I asked this week was, Aren't you insane to talk about anal sex, I have almost 2,000. The funniest question I asked this week was, aren't you insane to talk about anal sex in public? Answer, no! Rude, yes! Bold, yes! Inappropriate,

arguable, but insane? Why, that's insane! I have received and accepted, Ryan, your kind invitation to appear on next week's Late Late Show, fresh, so-called, for my performance at Electric Picnic. It's a terrible name for anything.

I respect you for the sense of humor it shows. So, I respect you for your sense of humor in booking me? Yeah. Coming up next, a lady who's crazy about anal sex, and it may not be who you think. I promise to behave like a lady unless you kiss me, and then I can only promise I will melt and the ESB will have to shut the whole country off for the day and a night or so after. Fear not, though, for I have employed my own Lebanese security team to

keep me off men. She has handlers. They have, like, cattle prods and shock collars and stuff to keep her from just humping everything in sight. And they're Lebanese, so they don't fuck around. I love that it's like alternate universe Muammar Gaddafi.

Okay. As well as taking business cards from any and all interested men in the studio, be they panel, audience, or crew. I don't know if I've stipulated how low my standards are here. I'm wondering, in the meantime, would you be a doll and do some explaining for me this week? Because, baby, you speak normal and nuts. That's why you're so special. Also, I'm writing, in case your people miss my people on the phone between now and Friday,

you will have the story straight from my own glorious mouth, which is at present waiting an implant. mouth, which is at present waiting an implant. Stop that Ryan Turbetree, you bold thing! I mean of the dental variety. Please, will you try to make the normal people understand that anyone, even remotely

connected to the music business, are so because we are intellectually and emotionally unsuitable even for criminality. We are morons with 16-year-old adolescent sense of humor. That's true. I want to clarify for all you who may be concerned that Sinead is in fact 99.999% vaginally oriented, but has experienced the odds that we say bark up the wrong tree and immensely enjoyed it.

Because this needs to be clarified. Yeah, she frames that as though he asked. Apart from that and his as-yet-unexpressed desire to get royally rogered while wearing nothing but stilettos, we would imagine this is in response to Would You Like to Be on the Show on Friday? He's like, I didn't sign on for this. Wild swinging from the chandelier sex.

Should probably end in ball crushing. By a man wearing a regular business suit which she would cl me all over, and an intense enjoyment of light, to not especially painful spanking, is as kinky as the girl gets. My father often said affectionately of me when I was a child, Nice segue.

Yeah, exactly. Bus sex spanking my dad. What? Where are you going? Said of me as a child, you could bring her anywhere twice. Second time to apologize. Never a truer word was spoken, and it's what I want as my epitaph.

I did once ask Alan Shatter to spank me years ago, because he's a ride. And no, I don't think it's inappropriate to sexualize our politicians. I think it's most appropriate we should. It's just good satire. They should feel good going to work. If I was Alan or Edna today being discussed in such terms by a fine filly like myself, I'd be very flattered.

I just think of the pictures that we saw of her every time she starts describing herself as a fine filly or wearing nothing but stiletto heels and my brain just screams, no! No! Of course Alan turned me down as sensibly did Adam Clayton, the only doable one in the band.

Like you'd turn down the edge. If fucking Larry Mullen Jr. wanted to put it in your butt, you would say yes. I wonder if he'd known that I would have let him in the tradesman entrance. Oh my god! Jesus, lady! She is inventing new terms

as she goes. That's actually kind of admirable. It's very creative of her. The Butt-Fucking Thesaurus by Sinead O'Connor. I'm going to write that down. Tradesman's Entrance. I wonder if he'd known that I would have let him

in the Tradesman's Entrance. Would he have stopped to think about it for a millisecond? Oh, no, he wouldn't have. No, really. This is like the Finnegan's wake of uh what is it with irish people and writing letters holy shit james joyce and shenate o'connor they're they're separated by 100 years but they were made for each other ryan i'm the kind of woman who is unfortunately terminally unsuitable for the role of wife or girlfriend.

I am accursed, but I have begged God that while he rightly banishes me from a good man like yourself or Robert Downey Jr. or Adam Clayton, could he salvage me a few from the section in between guys like yous and guys like the one this week who fucking what? You can't do that.

What is happening? Let's try that one more time. We're getting more stream of consciousness now. But I have begged God that while he rightly banishes me from good men like yourself or Robert Downey Jr. or Adam, could he salvage me a few from the section in between guys

like yous and guys like the one this week who is living because he is living with the mother of children offered me a one-off experience which will guarantee you the masturbatory material and will involve you crying

in pain and being humiliated in a corner. Yikes. Here, put on the spandex first. What happened? What the fuck happened there? You're gonna diddle yourself a lot and then you're gonna end up crying in pain afterwards.

And why don't... Hmm. Sentences made too confusing. I can normally follow this shit. I don't want my not being suitable wife or girlfriend material to mean I never again get

kissed so much that I have to go around the whole next day with fat lips on me giggling like an idiot, mad from being rogered so hard all night, and me voice ruined from screaming. I don't want to never again have to wear a polo neck to hide

my love bites from my daughter so she won't know I love sex. Yeah, because she never reads this blog. Also, my daughter is my webmaster. I don't want to never be snuggled or told I'm gorgeous or

have no reason to shave my legs. I thought she liked stubble. On men. Yeah. That's fine, too. I don't want to never bury my nose in a stubbly man's face again. I want the end of my nose red raw

from sniffing smelly man's stubbly face. I want my whole face and neck sore from stubbly man sniffing me. I don't think she remembers that she was writing a letter here.

Jesus. But I need to finesse my requirements based upon this week's responses to my plea. I want to make lure. Sweet and filthy lure. I love that lure. With sweet and Filthy Man. If you don't have both sweetness and filth, don't apply. I want Sweet Lerve with music on.

Say it again, Sinead, like you really mean it this time. I want to be Lerve Stupid by Sweet Filthy Man with music on. Okay, we clear? Ahem, good. Now I want to know what music you LURV me with. Your turn in the roleplay. I like to imagine that this is like text, talk to text sort of software where she's like screaming this into a microphone. Maybe she's got a straitjacket on, you know. I'm revising the language from humping to

love. Because humping became misleading. I'm a body thing, I'll write on Twitter, and a joker, but in fact secretly I'm quite the good girl. Just naughty enough. And I want to be lured! In the arse!

Let's sum it up here. Any man wishing to make a case for himself must be between 38 and 55. You notice that... Oh, it's specifically because Ryan is 38. Yeah. Okay. Unattached and aware that he will be dumped at the drop of a hat

if either Ryan, Adam Clayton, or Robert Downey Jr. stake a claim. Fuck. Dave Chappelle got ignored at the end. Poor guy. She has a rotating list of men that she names. Every time she says she wants somebody.

Yeah. She just slides it down. I just came to this website because I wanted to see if she was going on tour. Now it turns out she is and I don't want to go. Yeah. She'll just stop in mid-song and just start ranting into the microphone. I want to be the butt sex Robert Downey Jr.

Must be at least 38. So, yes, the open letter to Bob Dylan. Nutshell, if you'll take that, please. Open letter to Bob Dylan. Nutshell, if you'll take that, please. Open letter to Bob Dylan. Dear Bob, three questions. One, can I sing License to Kill with you and Mark Knopfler when you play together in Dublin in October? As Infidels is my favorite album ever,

and I'm quite a good singer, even if I do say so myself. Yes, nothing compares to her. Being selfish and a demanding diva, I was hoping you and Mark would play, and compares to her. Being selfish and demanding diva, I was hoping you and Mark would play, and I would sing, wearing a minuscule army camouflage teeny-keeny. Not really, all strictly kosher.

Two, can I be your harmonica? I'm asking this because I really want to be your harmonica, but I promise to behave unless you don't. If I can't be good, I'll be careful. Oh dear, oh gross. There's nothing sexier than desperation. I think this is the first female Pua I've ever seen. It's like, hey, can I be your harmonica?

Three. In the event of my dying wish, see question two, can't come true, can you perhaps introduce me to any unattached Zimmerman men from 44 years old on? You have set an unreachable standard in me for what a man really is. I'm assuming, of course, that you would never be interested in one so insane as to write you a love letter, and assuming you must be well covered with women. Plastered. I promise I'm slightly prettier than the ABC news split screen of

Before and After. I was having a bad hair day. I was having a bad body year. Hair's never done me no favors. I always end up getting rid of it. I was having a bad hair day that gave me

120 extra pounds. Hugh Heffernan has now offered me a million dollars to do the cover of Playboy. Of course he did. Every girl's dream. This is because I am monumentally gorgeous. Hugh Heffernan is just a guy on the Sunset Strip.

Yeah, he's the knockoff. Hey, can I photograph you for the Playboys? Yeah, his Playboy is in all lowercase letters. I will implore the equally lurv-starved ladies of influence at ABC News to sneakily switch photos so you can see me in my actual sexual gloriousness. So worry not, I'm well fit, sir. Sinead can't write a letter to somebody without coming onto them.

Anyway, please let me sing with you. And Mark, because that album was, is, and always will be the full roots of my heart. Kisses from Jesus all over it. Jesus is high, by the way. He's rogering me in the hours.

By the way, if you know Jesus, could you send him my way? Yeah, and Mark's pretty delicious too, but not as much as you, obviously. But if you don't fancy a quick one, would you ever ask old Mark what he reckons? In the dark, I think he could pretend I'm gorgeous if I

put a few bags over my head. Yeah. Oh my god! Bob Dylan and Mark Knopfler are totally going to have that conversation. So, did you get a letter from Sinead O'Connor too? No.

Yeah, let's discuss this right now. My preference, if you are unattainable, would be to meet your middle-aged male relatives, please. Just your genetic material would be enough, come on. Someone who shares some sort of ribosomes or chromosomes or whatever they're called. Someone you shook hands with recently. Jimmy Franks, you want to tell us all about cybernating? Jimmy Franks, you want to tell us all about cyber dating?

The matchmaker at Liz Doonvarna has assured me that despite my giving the universe the impression my baddie is anyone's for grabs, in actual fact, I jest and want an actual, real, live, proper boyfriend. He's good, this fucker, and he reckons he can fix me up. Don't say I said this right, but I think we're into a bit of a Hello Dolly situation. So someone told me who's in the know. This matchmaker wants me for himself. The poor man. He should run as fast as his little legs can carry him. You said it, Sinead. All NES girls are going to find on net is shags. And sure, after one or two, you'd be like, fuck off now, please. Isn't that right, girls? Unless you actually like him.

Which means him as a person and a friend. You're such a valley girl. Jesus Christ. Yeah. I do talk all kinds of adolescent shite because it amuses me to do so. This is because I work in the music binne, and we laugh at anything which looks like sausages, and we can't enter Germany because we're banned for always pissing slash crying slash laughing in eateries

because all there is on the menu is huge sausage. There is no laughing in Germany! You are banned! I cannot count the number of times I've been in the supermarket and just seen girls huddled around the meat counter just giggling uncontrollably. Well, only if they're in the music bin. Yeah. We sneak bananas and carrots and other pulse vegetables surreptitiously into each other's handbags backstage.

Oh, shit, ain't you prankster. These will be found later by recipient and giggled at and probably peeled and eaten, except in the case of myself. It's like her entire life is the world's most irritating bachelorette party. Yeah. And you never want to eat at Sannette O'Connor's house

never ever fruit salad? no thank you do you have any flat foods? just the spinach will be fine thank you just a bag of chips already sealed as I'm a bit over sexed in the style of most singers, I believe.

Okay, look. I'll come clean. I shagged a banana once. Seven days ago? Since you asked. It was really very messy. Oh, so she unpeeled it first. There's your mistake.

Right. Yeah. Yeah. I mean, any good dildo, you take it out of the package first. Yeah, of course. I concluded God had made bananas for a better purpose, as indeed he had my G. G is Irish for vagina, by the way.

Not to be confused with Indian cooking butter or 50 Cent's record label. What can I say? I was desperate. What I'm trying to say is, internet ain't boyfriend material. So, me go matchmaker, and we see. What? Why are you suddenly long duck dong? He says there does be farmers down there. Ain't been near a woman for years, so I'm not defined if there's a bit of the owl popping rather quickly. I think Sinead O'Connor is having a stroke while she's writing this.

Someone call 911. This is like the sexual version of Flowers for Algernon. The wrath is getting hornier. That means Sinead will be getting hornier too. Luckily, I am a woman who would be most flattered by popping at whatever stage. The earlier the better, really, for the flattery of my ginormous ego.

So no one else need apply by net. We'll keep you all posted daily by Twitter and the site, how I'm getting on. And remember, ladies and gentlemen, if you are thinking about sex, just once, try it up the Josh. Another one for the list. Up the Josh. What is wrong with you, lady? We're going to write our own suicide note. And now the men named Josh just got a cold shiver down their spine. Just so you can rule it out, like.

But guys, please remember. Sinead is 99.99999% vaginally preferenced. Yeah, we've been through that, yeah. But the odd bark up the wrong tree was rarely balked at. Later, I'll fucking gain her ex. She goes on and on about butt sex, but then she insists that only one in, what, ten million times would she actually have it up the jaw. And there we go. Just a little Irish ditty of questionable moral content.

Jimmy Franks, what did you learn this week? I learned a lot about Sinead O'Connor and parts of her body. And I feel like I feel kind of bad for the old gal. Sure. I think she needs some attention. I think that's obvious. But maybe what she needs, you know, she's been out of the spotlight for a long time. I mean, she's doing a great job of making up for lost time here.

She's definitely getting back in there, yeah. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's stir up some controversy. She needs a reality show. I think that's a solution to all the stuff, all the crazy that we heard tonight. Let's get her on TV. All right, pitch me.

I got a couple ideas. I got a couple ideas. All right, number one, Ireland's next top Sinead O'Connor anal sex companion. Okay. That title's a little long. Okay. All right. We can work that out.

Let's just put a pin in that one. Okay. I'm back to that. You saw the movie Speed, right? Yeah. Sure. All right. So picture this.

There's a bomb in Sinead O'Connor's butt. The clock is ticking. Got 24 hours. I mean, I'm still working. I see where you're going with that. I'm working out the mechanics on that one, but I think that would be pretty exciting. All right.

Third one's the charm. What do you got? Sinead O'Connor has to, it's like that win it in a minute. Sure. Where people play games like putting things in Sinead O'Connor's butt, or they have like putting things in Sinead O'Connor's butt. Or they have to stack things on Sinead O'Connor's butt or around, I don't know, throw paper airplanes into. I feel all of your pitches have a certain theme.

But I think it works. I mean, I think. The theme is fun, mister. Yeah, I think it works. I think, you know, I know that. And it's obvious. You know I know that and it's obvious I mean she's probably doing still okay in Ireland but you know not so

many Americans paying attention and I only knew about it because they started making fun of her on the soup and Sinead you took us on a weird journey and I know a fantastic voyage I know a lot more about your private

parts than I do about a couple ex-girlfriends that I had. I know more about Sinead O'Connor's anus than I do my own. Speaking of Sinead O'Connor's anus, the website is always THEFPL.US. What? That's a segue?

That was a terrible one. THEFPL.us. We got, you know, the Facebook on there because we want you to like us because we're also attention whores, but maybe to a slightly lesser extent. We also have the Google+, which, you know, is going to be the new thing. That's what everyone's like to talk about. Yep. Talking about, oh, Facebook's the way of the past.

Google+, the way of the future. It's all the rage with the kids with their baggy pants and their pagers and their Google Pluses. That's how they do. And of course, there is a place on the website where you can submit your own content. So if you find stuff in your internet travels, send it to us. We don't judge.

We're not going to ask you how you came up with it, why you ended up... Actually, we do ask you, but that's just for our own information we do not hand it over to the fbi um we're also we're always taking submissions there was that one time yeah uh we're always taking submissions and uh yeah we'll see you next week oh wait wait before we go i just got a text from john uh he said he's sorry he couldn't make it He just booked a flight to Ireland Something about a personal ad I see Not sure, I guess we'll have to find out next episode

It all comes full circle Have a good one Nothing compares Nothing compares 11. There must be a lot of kissing before, during, and after lovemaking. The lady likes kissing. Twelve. Must provide me with fries, chocolate, cream bars, not a euphemism for anal sex. Okay, Sinead.

Sinead, take a step back and realize that the fact that you have to explain when you're not giving a euphemism for anal sex means you've gone horribly wrong with your blog.