You think the bank ads are funny? Oisinn's routine is, like, off the Richter scale, writes ROSS O'CARROLL-KELLY
THOSE ADS they show in the flicks, some of them really crack me up. Like the one that tries to tell you that downloading music for free is, like, an actual crime? You wouldn’t steal a handbag. You wouldn’t steal a car. I saw it once in the UCI in Blanchardstown and I have to say it brought the house down. My new favourite is the one for AIB – the one with that dude surfing. As in, “I wanted to surf the west coast of Ireland seven days a week . . . I’ve always banked with AIB every step of the journey – there’s a relationship there.” You wouldn’t believe the laughter this caused in Movies @ Dundrum on Thursday night.
Oisinn, though, certainly wasn’t laughing, poor dude. Two years ago, he made the Sunday Times Rich List. Last weekend the same paper said he was Keith Flint – all the money he made from Eau d’Affluence and his range of scented holy waters swallowed up by bad property investments and whatever shares he bought in the banks. There’s talk of him even having to sell the gaff on Shrewsbury Road and he’s not a happy rabbit about it.
“Can you believe the cheek of these fockers,” he shouts, looking around for a friend. “Still using lifestyle images to sell debt to people. It’s, like, have we learned nothing?”
“When I started surfing,” the dude on the screen goes, “I was absolutely terrified of any sort of wave. I guess the big thing is, no matter how crazy the situation, just stay calm – you’re not on your own.” “Well, the banks certainly aren’t,” Oisinn shouts. “We’re picking up the focking bill,” and it would not be an exaggeration to say that the entire cinema cheers. Fionn told him he should go into, like, politics and he wasn’t the only one who thought it.
The next morning, with the – I suppose – adulation of the Confessions of a Shopaholic audience still ringing in his ears, Oisinn texts me and tells me to meet him in Blackrock. When he mentions he has an appointment with the AIB, I immediately know that whatever’s about to go down, it’s going to be seriously entertaining. Imagine, roysh, my surprise when he walks through the door of Buckys wearing, not his usual clobber of chinos, Apple Crumble and obviously Dubes – but baggy trousers, a hoodie and a pair of Vans. Oh, and a beanie hat.
You can see people looking at him, trying to remember whether they locked their cars.
“Dude, what are you wearing?” I end up having to go? Then I end up nearly choking on my coffee when he says, “I’m going to ask the AIB for the money to allow me to skateboard full-time,” and, from behind his back, he produces his little brother’s Alien Workshop Spectrum Silver board.
He’s lost it – and in a major way. “Dude,” I go, “I have to be there,” and he’s like, “Of course you do – you’re my strategic planner, my friend.” He ties a handkerchief with a skull and crossbones on it around his face, then we tip over to the bank. The second we walk through the door, Oisinn shouts, “Sweet ass-tastic to the max!” then he walks around inviting various tellers to repeat it after him, then give him some five, which, in fairness, one or two do.
“Extreme!” he’s going. “Ex! Treme!” I’m practically on the floor laughing. A bird eventually wanders over and asks if she can help us. Oisinn tells her the name of the dude we’re here to see and she goes, “Can I say who you are?” and he tells her, “We’re the Lords of Dogtown!” and, when she says okay, then wanders off, Oisinn shouts, “Radical!” We’re eventually shown to this desk, where there’s a dude sitting, grey suit, far from the happy chappies you see on these ads. “Yes?” he goes, like a man who’s not used to taking SH one T from anyone.
“I was wondering whether you could leverage me some moo,” Oisinn goes, “so I can realise my dream of skateboarding outside the Central Bank seven days a week.” The dude’s jaw just drops. “You want us to lend you money . . . to skateboard?” “Yes, I do. Fifty Ks to be precise. That’s fifty thousand snots in new money.” “Fifty thousand euro?” “That’s right, Big Talk. Got to get all the clobber. Dickies. Valcom. Zoo York. It’s all money, you know – cha-ching!” The dude genuinely doesn’t know what to say.
“Let me show you something,” Oisinn goes. He stands up and steps onto the board. He’s, like, seventeen, eighteen stone but I’d actually forgotten how big and awkward the focker actually is. He puts one foot on the floor, then pushes himself off and the board travels maybe ten feet through the bank before he’s thrown off, sending a display of Graduate Finance and Masterplan Account brochures, not to mention several terrified customers, scattering.
I’m going to crap an organ I’m laughing so much.
“Off the Richter, huh?” Oisinn goes. The bank guy’s there, “You’re, em, not very good on that thing, are you?” “No, that’s why I need moolah – to develop. I want to do a frontside noseslide, 180 indie grab, nosestall transfer and a 360 to fakie – and I want to be with AIB.” The guy looks at Oisinn like he’s off his chops. “Do you have an account with us?” he goes. “No. I had some shares? But, well, you know how that went.” “Yes, what about assets – maybe property?” “Nothing. No savings either – not a bean.”
“Okay – can I ask you then, what is your current income?” “Income?” he goes. “I don’t have an income. Dude, I won’t have time to work if I’m, like, skateboarding seven days a week, will I?” The guy actually laughs. “What makes you think we’d lend you money for something like this?” “That ad with the dude on the surfboard,” Oisinn goes. “Weirdly – and maybe I’m the only one – but it made me connect borrowing money with having a good time. And with the world out there going to shit, I thought, I’ll have some of that.”
“But the guy in the ad,” the bank dude goes, “he set up a surf school. It was a business loan.” “Well, maybe I’ll set up a skateboarding school. Outside the Central Bank.” “But isn’t skateboarding illegal outside the Central Bank?” “Yeah. So?” “Well, banks aren’t allowed to lend people money to do, let’s just say, legally questionable things . . .”
Oisinn says we’ll see about that. And then – with his skateboard under his arm – he tells me to come on. We’re going to take our dream elsewhere.
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