ChicagoNow holds a monthly one hour test of our blogging biceps. This month – write to a celeb convincing them you could be mates.
Dear Liam Neeson,
‘Bout ye, big lad? Long time, no spake. Hope you’re stickin’ out, wherever you are in the world.
I’m just grand over here in Chicagee. You know, Chicagee, the wee Irish-American town in Americay. They even have a special name for their Irish over here – Chirish. You pronounce it Shirish apparently. I’m not there yet.
Yer probably wondering what I’m doing, writing to you like this. Yer probably thinking that I should catch myself on. But I’m thinking you may some day have a wee dander down to Chicagee and thought I’d get in touch in case you ever wanted a decent cup of tae, a round of wheaten bread or a big plate of champ.
And I also know where to get a proper fry – no need to call it an Irish there (or an Ulster) – just whether you want a full or a half. By the way, both include PROPER Irish bacon and sausages. We don’t read newspapers over here.
It would be cracker to hear the oul accent again. Most people here think I’m away in the head with some of the expressions I come out with. I can understand why you’ve had to stop with the Ballymena Hi. But I miss people telling me I’m a buck eejit or saying things are wick. Although I gather it now means something’s class – when I was a wee’un, it meant a dog’s dinner.
Anyway, you’ve never acted as if you were the dog’s bollocks, you look as if you’re always up for a laugh. No flies on you, that’s pretty obvious. If I hear you’re in town and don’t get in touch, I’ll not be too gutted, But if you do, happy days! The folks here are dead on – they’d give yer head some peace. It would be a geg.
Enough with the faffin’ around. Time for me to shut my bake.
All the best.