Crude: An Examination of Fun

Written by Cian Ennis

Graphic by Aiesha Wong

The wheels turn, as they often do. Meandering around the pot holes, dodging reckless cyclists, Radio Nova sneaks up the stairs from the driver's seat. The stench of a cola vape and the sweat of its owner puffing away. It can only be summer on the Dublin Bus, the 15 to be exact. The sun’s rays beam through the single glazed window, obscuring my vision, but what I see is impossible to miss. On the back of an electricity box, adjacent to Portobello bridge, is a hastily written piece of prose, “‘For Fun’ - Crude”. For the rest of that day, I didn't stop thinking about that electricity box in Portobello. What could it possibly mean? As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, this piece of prose becomes part of my routine whenever I enter the city center, for work or for pleasure. Each time the bus bumps over the slump of the bridge, I examine the electricity box, ensuring this simple phrase is still there, “For Fun ''. 

The “shortest story ever told” was composed by Ernest Hemmingway as a result of a drunken bet at Luchow’s restaurant in Manhattan. Allegedly, he was challenged to write a story using only six words. With money on the line, Hemingway managed to do that, scribbling on a napkin “Baby Shoes, For Sale, Never Worn”. This iconic piece of flash fiction accomplishes precisely what Crude forces us to do with his “For Fun” work. We are forced, as the observer, to ascribe our own meaning to it. Crude’s “For Fun” may not be as morose as Hemmingway, but I felt this piece was a commentary on something maybe a little darker.   

Young people in Dublin are neglected children. Fine Gael is our absent father. Fianna Fail our working mother. The Green Party our wasted big brother. Inflation and rent prices are on the rise, our only escape from this despair is fun. The most familiar way to achieve this bliss is by picking up a drink. “For Fun” is a hedonistic rallying cry in desperate times, an excuse for behavior we are well aware is self destructive. But what harm is it when the world is crumbling around us? Might as well have a bit of craic and get a buzz. 

“For Fun'' is a reflection of the street drinking culture, colloquially known as “street ratting” which took Dublin city by storm as a result of the pandemic. Packed together like sardines on the Powerscourt steps, with a Prazsky in hand , chanting our mantra, “For Fun”, “For Fun”, “For Fun”. The pandemic rid us of normalcy, our learning was halted and replaced by what appeared to be drunken antics, but in reality it was all a cry for help.    

Crude perhaps provided a justification for our self-destructive behavior, but we must also question the irony of this iconic piece scrawled on the back of an electricity box. Perhaps it is a commentary on the issue of substance abuse in this country? Ireland does not often rank high in any form of leaderboard, but in binge drinking we have managed to acquire the number two spot. Staggeringly, seventy-five percent of the alcohol consumed in Ireland is as part of a binge session. General socializing, friendships, even work, can revolve around drinking. A quiet pint is a rare occasion, often turning into a drunken rampage and resulting in the pavement being painted with vomit. It doesn’t feel as if there are many other options. Some of us can’t face the glares when we reject a drink. Some of us can’t face being called “no fun”. Alcoholism runs deep, going back generations, one can quickly lose themselves in the bottle, but those affected by this, often simply retort with “ah I am only having a bit of fun”.  

Time has passed and we are seemingly now at the tail end of the pandemic. With that, the pubs and nightclubs have returned. “For Fun” has taken on an entirely new meaning, one more nihilistic; have fun while you can. The aftermath of the pandemic has left us collectively traumatized, we spent our days worrying about the health of our loved ones, hoping and praying they wouldn't get sick, or worse. We have lost people. Young people, who once felt invincible, now understand the cruelness of life, and in desperate times, Crude echoes the sentiment that fun is the cure. Pack our lives with as much fun, laughter and friendship as we can, anything that can make us happy, anything that facilitates fun. Unfortunately, there is seemingly a timeline on the fun we can have, as our dysfunctional coalition erodes our nightlife, to be replaced by tourist traps and hotels. We continue to get older, our knees begin to ache, the snare no longer provides the best for our feet.  

I ask myself, what provoked Crude to make this piece? I have examined it as a philosophy and as a commentary on Irish society, but what if it is far more simple than that? I had become so wrapped up in what this piece of art could possibly mean that I had never considered the fact that it could just have been the product of a drunken night of tagging. Crude simply enjoys spreading his tag and prose around the city center. Maybe it’s an artistic compulsion? Maybe just for the love of it? Maybe just for the thrill?   

Why did Crude create this piece? “For Fun”.   

It really doesn’t matter whether you view this piece as an existential quandary, or as a rallying cry for hedonism. What does matter is that life is relentless, and our actions have consequences. Perhaps we should take a lesson from Crude, and when we ask ourselves why are we doing something? The answer should be “For Fun”.