Welcome, one and all, to The Furious Show — the only televised spectacular in the country where the audience prays for a meltdown and the contestants deliver like it's the All-Ireland final of pure rage. Sure look, we've had talent shows for singing, baking, and dancing, but wasn't it only a matter of time before someone stuck a camera on the real national pastime: losing the head entirely over something small enough to fit in your pocket? Tickets sold out in eleven minutes, which for a show about shouting is saying something, because we Irish will queue for an hour in the rain for a decent fry, never mind a good roaring match.
First up is our reigning favourite, the man in the white coat, who looked every inch the picture of patience until the woman ahead of him produced a coin purse and started counting out ninety-two cent in fives. The transformation was nothing short of spectacular. One minute he's standing there grand and composed; the next he's roaring about the price of stamps like he's been personally wronged by An Post since childhood. The judges gave him a nine for delivery, a ten for volume, and a standing ovation for the bit where he called the queue "a shower of amateurs." He'd have had full marks only he stopped to apologise to an aul' one with a walking frame, which the head judge said "cost him the ferocity." Ah well — sure you can't be fierce all the time.
And then there was himself — the man in the suit who took on a parking space outside Dunnes and, in the eyes of the law, lost. He claimed the spot was his by divine right, that he'd signalled, that the other fella "came out of nowhere like a wasp," and that the resulting argument was "the single greatest injustice since the famine." The crowd, to their credit, went absolutely delira. He stamped his foot. He pointed at the sky. He demanded the council be called, then the Guards, then, when neither showed up, the Pope. It was the kind of performance that reminds you why we're famous for the talk — we don't just argue, sure we argue beautifully.
Between rounds, the audience takes part in the "Roar-Off," where two strangers face each other across the stage and shout the words "FEED THE CAT!" until one of them cracks and laughs. Only one contestant has ever made it through without so much as a smile, and he's now treated like a minor celebrity in his local, where he buys nobody a drink but is bought many. The grand final is this Friday, and word has it the prize is a year's supply of patience — which, frankly, is the funniest yoke of the whole show, because not a single soul in the building would know what to do with it. So if you've ever felt the rage building over a slow bus, a cold chip, or a fella who says "calm down" when you're perfectly calm, take heart: you, too, have what it takes. The Furious Show needs new talent — and the way things are going, you're probably already in it.
AWAIS MALIK
Awais MALIK | Graduate Research Assistant | PhD in Civil Engineering ...
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Awais Malik
Malik Awais | CEO @ The Case Lawyer | Technology Lawyer
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