An Irish Christmas Show Story NOT by James Joyce

So I get dragged to an Irish concert on a night after a snowstorm. Top it off, it’s a Danny Boy singer, meaning Celtic Branson, Mo., stuff.

What I don’t get about that sort of stuff is Mick Jagger is over 60, which means the people who like Andy Williams, cheesy Russian comics and fishy Japanese violin players have all got to be 90 now.

This is either proof that Social Security won’t be there for me and you or that there is such a thing as mental age, and a lot of people act way older than they are - perhaps to balance out the immature rest of us.

Anyway, this guy’s name is Tony Kenny, and to start the show he was dressed in an outfit that sort of looked something like what a Pilgrim or a creepy magician like David Copperfield would don.

Tony tours every Christmas and seems to be a nice enough guy. He used to be the house entertainment for the blue haired tourists at Jury’s, a hotel in Dublin.

He specializes is stuff that sounds like it was left out of Jesus Christ Superstar, which means Andrew Lloyd Weber, which gives me hives.

One of Tony’s tunes, which he sings with a pianist and taped music, was something about the Virgin Mary. Actually, two of them were - you can never have too many songs about virgins.

The one that stuck out was Tony wondering if Mary knew that her baby would be God’s son and what a difference he would make in the world.

Which made me want to shout, Of course she did, you dumb Mick. Didn’t you read the Bible? Poor Joseph had to raise God’s kid as his own. They were all in on it, which is a weird story when you start to think about it.

Now Mary and maybe even Jesus didn’t know how terribly wrong the world would get what he was saying, that people even 2,000 years later would be fighting wars and killing over religion.

Now that might be a good song, but probably not one 90 year olds all whimsical about the Emerald Aisle would pay good money to hear.

Anyway, there was fun to be had, and it was was twofold.

First, Tony (who has perfect TV anchorman hair) had this little guy singing with him, not a dwarf, but a guy barely 5 feet tall, like Tom Cruise, but not as annoying. He had the Pilgrim clothes on, too. We didn’t stay long enough to see if Tony made him put on a elf outfit for the encore.

If I were this little dude, though, I’d be pissed at Peter Jackson. Probably the only short guy in Ireland not used in Lord of the Rings. Maybe he’ll get a part in The Hobbit.

The other nice thing: Tony had Irish eye candy, some dancers, two boys for those who like boys and two ladies for those of use who like ladies, the blond of which reminded me of another business idea of mine: Irish lap dancing.

They were cute and their skirts flew up into the air.

After that we made like the breeze.

But way before that I heard a story, which made it worth going out on a shitty evening.

Tony has a superfan, there that night in one of those holiday sweaters that women of a certain age and/or demographic like to wear. I don’t think it had bells sewn into it, but I bet she has one that does.

Anyway, the superfan goes to ALL of Tony’s shows and even came up with a dance for one of his songs that she showed him and that she wants him to do. It uses scarves as he sings about the Virgin.

Come to think of it, this was all way more entertaining than the Madonna thing I saw on TV before Thanksgiving.