The three staples on which Mar-a-Lago fundraising dinners depend.

Again: there is no spinning, re-framing or masking the fact that data centre growth is now a major a factor among all the major factors driving demand growth.

The fact that data centres are going to spur more new demand than the entire heating needs of the human species is NOT GREAT

Do I get this right - I'm supposed to pay extra for a smart fridge so... it can show me ads?!

I watched it this week for the first time in years too.
Scary then: the twins, the blood, the old woman, the "novel" reveal.
Scary now: Jack smoothing over the drinking and the DV, Grady's blithe insistence on the normality of Jack's psychosis, Jack's verbal abuse of Wendy when she interrupts him.

Me with long hair on Eccles Street, mid-90s, young f'lla hisses from behind me "here, d'ya want any Es? Birra blow? Gramma speed...?

"...or a bleedin' barber?"

Went to the dentist wearing a red and white striped jumper. When I got up to leave, a little girl loudly whispered to her mother "Found him!"

Does he not know?

And every single one of them is wearing a purple satin shirt.

Next day, Tommy turns up at the harbour as per. But the lads aren't there. They're late. Like, really late.

He comes back in the afternoon... and there they are, all the lads, hanging out, as per usual. /

The lads mull this over. Maybe he has a point. Fair enough. The teasing dies down to a simmer. After a while, they disperse, get about their days. /

"Ah lads," he says, "sure look at us, we're all dressed the same, year in, year out, sure isn't it good to break the mould a bit, get some variety into your life, a bit of colour and all?" /

Next day, the lads gather at the harbour. All in their usual suits, white shirts. But then Tommy turns up. And he's wearing a purple satin shirt!

Ructions ensue. Roaring laughing, "Elvis," they call him. "James Dean". "Marilyn." Tommy's cheeks go red, but he insists. /

They all looked the same. But then one fella, the most charismatic of them, let's call him Tommy, came off a couple of weeks' work with a bit of money in his pocket, and went off on the train into town.

Alone.

Like he's Shackleton or someone. /

My dad grew up in Howth in the 1950s. There was a gang of lads used to hang around at the harbour when they weren't employed, which was often. Back then everyone had The One Suit. Dark grey, a white shirt under it, a tie on special occasions, and if it was cold you'd put a jumper over the shirt. /

It's my parents' house, yeah. The price is reasonable, I guess? We thought maybe it'd go for more, but the agent was firm on it.

Loving one's girlfriend.