All I want for Christmas…

Posted in Old blogger by Twenty Major on December 22nd, 2004

…is the heart of my mortal enemy - 80s pop star Daryl Hall.

Not many people know that he started his singing career here in Dublin. He left his native USA in the early 70s and was backpacking around Europe before he found his way to Dublin. Whilst here he fell in love with a beautiful young girl from the inner city. Sadly she broke his heart and stole everything he owned forcing him to take to busking at the bottom of Grafton Street. He was literally singing for his supper.

Anyway, one day I was passing by when I heard this remarkably soulful voice singing ‘Waterloo sunset’ by The Kinks. I stopped to listen, looking at this straggly haired blonde American boy. ‘That boy has got something, the cunt’, I said to myself and over a cup of coffee he told me his sad tale of a love gone wrong and a robbery that went totally right (for the robbers).

Well, what could I do? At that time an old pal of mine was the head of talent for the Braemor Rooms, home of great cabaret in Dublin. I used to do the odd turn but I’d always dreamed of being a great duo, like Simon and Garfunkel, Sonny and Cher or Foster and Allen. So I convinced my pal to give me and Daryl a spot on a Thursday night.

MAJOR AND HALL, as we were known, soon became very popular with the discerning cabaret public of Dublin south and soon there was talk of record deals, major tours and even getting our gig moved to Friday night.

Then one night I met up with Daryl for a few beers in Mulligans on Poolbeg Street, he always said the smooth Guinness helped coat his vocal cords which gave his voice that vibrant timbre I had come to love. When I arrived to meet him he was standing with a little dark haired chap with a moustache.

“Hey Twenty,” said Daryl. “This is my new friend John Oates”

Turns out Oates was another backpacking wastrel who had decided to stop for a few days in Dublin, or Waterford. Had he stopped in Waterford he’d have become victim of the Dungarvan Hostel fire which claimed the lives of so many unkempt youngsters, but as fate would have it he chose Dublin.

Soon they were fast friends, two Americans, and I, the poor auld Dubliner, was oft shunted to the side as their conversations became uninteligible to me. What were sidewalks, faucets and wasn’t fall something you did after too many pints? One day Daryl came to me and said he’d earned enough money to go back home and John Oates was going with him. He promised to send for me, that we’d be MAJOR, HALL AND OATES, but he never did. I even wrote a song called ‘He’s gone’ which I recorded onto a cassette and mailed to Daryl. I think we all know what happened then.

My dreams of being Ireland’s first white soul star were in ruins and when Johnny Logan came along I knew my chance had passed me by.

Ever since then I’ve sought revenge - mostly by sitting in the pub and telling this story to anyone who’d listen - so if anyone has Daryl Hall’s phone number, home address and details of the security at his mansion, please let me know.

And that’s why I’d like Daryl Hall’s heart for Christmas.