Your Horoscope for the Week Ahead, by Mystic Drew

Insomnia is a bitch, but I made you all a horoscope after studying some astrological charts and shit. The predictions below are 100% mostly ACCURATE. Use them wisely.

Aries (21 MAR-19 APR)



Caution advised this week if you’re a stevedore. Venus rising in your house threatens possible lumbago. A white haired stranger with tattooed knuckles and a lazy eye could signify love entering your life. Carry breathmints.

Taurus (20 APRIL - 20 MAY)

Learn five or six witty literary quotes by heart this week as Stephen Fry will invite you to a speaking supper on Thursday. Invest in rubberized pants and boots as there is a strong likelihood you may have to retrieve your wallet from behind an electrified fence over the weekend. Love is smiling on you but is not wearing its dentures.

Gemini (21 MAY-20 JUN)

A private detective called Rick Tangiers is stalking you, accessing your personal data and selling this information to a man called M. Amardeep Mansoor who intends to take over your identity and appearance on Saturday, weather permitting.

Cancer (21 JUN-22 JUL)

The singer and performer Roisin Murphy is really your birth sister, despite rumors you have spread alleging that she is in fact your aunt. Capricorn rising in your sign indicates a windfall this week so the purchase of Deflatene is advised.

Leo (23 JUL-22 AUG)

Fortune favours the brave, so another week of poverty lies ahead for you. Risks must be taken to find true love, and also sometimes blind faith. So consider juggling live scorpions this week and fingers crossed the A&E nurse has low standards and / or is delusional.

Virgo (23 AUG-22 SEP)

It’s time to take life by the throat and demand what you want. Fame will elude you unless you get it in a headlock and scream in its face ‘You’re mine!’ Be forewarned though, Simon Cowell in a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do.

Libra (23 SEP-23 OCT)

That ache in your right shin is not related to ‘overdoing the gardening a bit’ last weekend. It in fact indicates the presence of a parasitic worm which will eventually burrow into your liver and cause massive haemorrahging. Lucky Lotto numbers 2, 7, 14, 28, 33, Bonus 39.

Scorpio (24 OCT-21 NOV)

Your fancy-dress costume idea ‘Creeping Jesus’ is probably not appropriate for the Jesuit fundraiser on Wednesday. A tall, attractive and mysterious stranger will approach you on Sunday and ask you not to make any sudden moves. Do as he says.

Sagittarius (22 NOV-21 DEC)

Fame is around the corner! The CIA have been keeping secret files on you which will be hacked by Wikileaks on Friday splashed across the front pages on newspapers by the weekend. Take some time this week to free the political dissidents from your basement and burn the documents secreted in the cavity behind your water boiler.

Capricorn (22 DEC-19 JAN)

You’ve been needing a complete change of life for ages. And if your name is M. Amardeep Mansoor, then this change will happen on Saturday. Henceforth you can enjoy your new life as Amanda Byram. Weather forecast: inclement.

Aquarius (20 JAN-19 FEB)

Sometimes we all have to move on. As an #Occupy protestor, this may be hard to face, but the tear gas and baton rounds will help.

Pisces (20 FEB-20 MAR)


You’re naturally creative so you’ll need to be on the top of your game after being kidnapped by a vengeful ex on Tuesday. Why not try to recapture some of that sparkle by reliving joyful moments from the past relationship. A relaxed smile, a shared memory, an overdue compliment…who knows, maybe she’ll loosen the ropes after the first week.

Damn Nordies!!!!

Well, those Nordies really stuck it to us tonight. Not only did Invest NI put on the most kick-ass party of SXSW thus far, but they premiered the trailer of Lisa Barros D'Sa and Glenn Leyburn's Good Vibrations, which looks like it might break my heart its so damned pretty. I finally got to meet their VFX collaborators Evelyn McGrath and Kris Kelly of BlackNorth whose work I have admired and recently coveted for Anifest. A great video projection accompanied the evening's main event, performances by, amongst others General Fiasco and Cashier Number Nine. Great energy andperformances from all concerned made me almost forget the gammy limb currently purporting to buttress the left hand side of my body. The highlight act for me was Wonder Villains whose arse-kicking performance did much to reinvigorate the esprit de corps of this patellar (sic) familias.

Seriously though, well done Invest NI, you completely ruled at showcasing all that rocks about the six counties. A fantastic night, not just for NI talent but by SXSW standards, period. How's about ye? :)

On the Bull

Monday. Four Days in Austin and I'm already a cowboy. Although some may have pegged me for that long ago. A quick recap before I digress. We arrived last friday along with about 99,999 other people, who seemed to be registering for SXSW at precisely the moment we disembarked at the conference centre. I haven't queued so long for anything since the Pope's visit in '79 and on first look, the experience of Austin was equally bewildering. After a brief sojourn in a Tequila bar, we made our way to Fado to hook up with the other exPaddriates attending this year's festival. The night ended amicably with no loss of motor function. Saturday started innocently, I presented to Austin's tech community along with Minister for Flack-Taking Sean Sherlock and a half dozen other companies, eager to impress upon the native Austinites that Ireland is the new black or something and they should all flock to our shores (as indeed some of them do) with European centres of excellence and offers of significantly improved export quotas. After bridging international trade relations with the U.S., the Irish contingent quickly repaired to a bar to gloat over our victory against Scotland in the Six Nations. This was followed by a delicious lunch at the Old Pecan Street Cafe. The rest of the day was a dizzying blur of meetings and socially lubricated networking, accompanied by whimsical sounds of the uileann pipe and tap-dancing schoolgirls. The Irish were beginning to feel confident, not only had we trounced Scotland, but we found ourselves in a continuous thundery downpour and near Baltic temperatures which the locals claimed was highly unseasonal and roundly blamed us for. We were, quite literally, in our element. After several parties, each more overrated than the last, we found ourselves tidying away the remains of Saturday, and once again, body and mind were still intact. Which brings us to Sunday. Sunday started off on a bad foot, and ended on a worse one. Firstly, somebody stole an hour of my repose by changing the bloody clocks back. To add insult to injury (more on the latter anon.) it was still raining. To be honest I have always been a glass-half-full kind of chap, but three days of solid rainfall in a city that boasts 300 days of sunshine a year was pushing it a bit far. Luckily, the weather changed, and I finally got to some of the heavily oversubscribed panels in the morning, followed by some healthy networking (and irresistible photo ops) at ScreenBurn in the afternoon. A relaxed evening was had and a civil tongue was kept (despite the best efforts of an extremely stroppy New Zealander) at the Meebo Film Fusion party, and despite our best efforts to take in a bit of the local colour music-wise, I still somehow ended up on a bucking bronco at a ridiculously early juncture in proceedings. I managed to stay on the bull for a respectable 45 seconds, although it felt much longer as I had just imbibed a diabetically sweet green cocktail called a Scooby Snack, which seemed keen on reemerging from whence it had come about 15 seconds in. See for yourself. I managed to exit the arena with some dignity, unlike the poor unfortunate who got on this mechanical abomination after me ended up being thrown clear of the ring, cracked his head and was out cold for about thirty seconds in a small pool of blood. After an unsuccessful attempt to get into an 11.45 screening of Iron Sky, I decided to take a rickshaw back to the hotel, but only as taxis are as scarce here during SXSW as sensible Irishmen. The rickshavian experience, however, bore out my worst fears. A hundred meters from the hotel, the unfortunate bicyclist hit a stretch of uneven sidewalk and a parked car and ended up taking an unscheduled flight over the handlebars, tipping myself, chassis and any remaining unruffledness I had thus retained down an asphalt gully. I hadn't the heart to ask him to complete the journey and despite his profuse apologies I insisted on walking the remaining distance to the Hyatt. It wasn't until later that I reflected the popping noise that emitted from my knee as I twisted it to right myself upon being rudely ejected from his cab might bear ill omens for my mobility. And so it was, at 3am I awoke with a knee resembling a prosthetic appendage from Pan's Labyrinth and have since been hobbling around the Austin Convention Center eliciting piteous glances from even the most self-absorbed hipsters. The medics on hand at least put my mind at rest regarding my fears that I might soon have a matching ACL scar on my 'good knee', suggesting instead that I have ruptured tendons, ligaments or possibly both. Neither this cold comfort nor the Advil have done much to lighten my mood, but I have managed to soldier on and network away, albeit under somewhat geographically constrained circumstances. As I write, I am taking a 'time out', ensconced on the sixth floor of the Hyatt with the recalcitrant knee in an ice pack and another four days of shenanigans ahead of me. Yee-hah, etc.

Austin, I am in you.

Texas, you say? World's largest combined Film, Music and Interactive festival you say? Uh-huh, sounds workable, sign me up. Signing up is the easy part, my friends. Collecting one's badge at registration is a test of resolve not for the faint hearted. I could hazard a guess at the number of attendees here but I don't want to bring on a nosebleed unnecessarily. Suffice to say there are a hella-LOT. Badge collection took two hours, required toilet breaks and at least one 'get me a sandwich before I pass out' moment. But once registered, the array of incredible speakers, presentations, product launches and parties is quite dizzying. And despite thunderstorms, torrential rain and temperatures so low you could limbo under them, Austin's warmth and friendliness shines through. After two days of human ping-pong on the streets of New York, its refreshing to have broad boulevards to walk down and people smiling and saying hi just for the hell of it. Unofficial Paddy base camp is the Fado pub on E Fourth, where we met with Padraig from Studio Rua and Will from EI before heading up to the Twillio / StartUp Weekend party at Kingdom on E 5th, which IMHO, rocked. Today, the madness begins in earnest, with back to back meetings, pitches, more lunches than one Andrew can physically digest and the rather interesting quandary of how I can be at a half dozen places at the same time. But I can, I CAN!!!

As good a time as any...

...to officially pop this blog's cherry. This missive is being transmitted from the 22nd story of the New Yorker Hotel. Its a gorgeous spring day in the Big Apple and I am presently battling jet lag having made the transatlantic crossing yesterday on a bucket of bolts not dissimilar to the jerry-rigged contraption from 'The Last Flight of Noah's Ark.' This ordeal has left me dehydrated, with ankles swollen to the dimensions of cantaloupes and my brain shriveled to the size of an apologetic walnut. In my efforts to recalibrate the old internal clock I took to the hostelries of this great city last night with the charming Siobhan de Stefano and her beau Kevin (pictured with the author, right), settling in nicely at the Subway Inn on E 60th and Lex for multiple Stellas and a styrofoam box of vaguely evil chicken wings. We were joined by the lovely singer-songwriter Marye Lobb, who is off on a tour of the US with her latin-themed lullabies which I have been happily listening to while I prepare for the next leg of my trip to Austin, Texas for SXSW. I live in hope of traveling on an aircraft which would not qualify for display in the Smithsonian for a number of years yet. If I make it in one piece I shall, dear reader, continue to post my dispatches here.