Tedfest IV

12/03/2010

Tedfest IV @ Inis Oirr, Aran Islands, Ireland

4/5

Up with this sort of thing…

Fan conventions – the butt of so many jokes for their peculiar ability to compel anorak-ish teens and terminally oddball beardy 40 somethings to gather in nondescript conference halls and lapse into rapturous chin stroking about otherwise forgotten sci-fi b movies.

It’s a public image that’s unlikely to change anytime soon. So it’s worth saying immediately that Tedfest, the Father Ted-inspired 12-day marathon celebration of the hit Irish sitcom about three hapless Catholic priests set on the fictitious Craggy Island (in turn based on Ireland’s Aran Islands) turns the entire concept of fan meets upside down.

According to its affable Welsh founder Peter Phillips, the idea behind Tedfest was “to have the exact opposite of a TV convention where you’re sat in some hotel watching endless repeats.” The results are a sequence of wildly unpredictable, unscripted happenings that even he describes as “like walking into some sort of parallel universe.”

For the 250 or so pilgrims attending each Aran Island gathering, there’s no need to preach to the converted.  Complete with a riotous cast of inebriated bishops, frisky nuns, dancing priests, Elvis impersonators, lipsticked Mrs. Doyles and (two) hairy babies, it’s a bravely devout congregation who’ve made the long journey to the place described by one Father Jack Hackett as “that feckin’ island”.

Father Ted followers, dubbed Tedheads, travel the length and breadth of Europe to be here.  The event’s reputation has even spawned an Australian counterpart. Phillips’ claim that Tedfest is “not a fan convention but a state of mind” is bold, but to witness it in its unbridled glory of playful anarchy is proof enough why it’s valid.

The Big Issue arrives on the tiny Inis Oirr (aka Craggy Island) after a choppy hour-long ferry ride across a Galway Bay drenched in a stunning sunset. As introductions go, it’s memorable. But it’s soon clear all semblance of normality has been left behind at the ferry port on the mainland.

It’s the first year Inis Oirr has held a Tedfest event and the island’s population has doubled since the festival rolled into town.

Strewn across the island are painstakingly encyclopedic nods to all things Father Ted; signs for the Magic Road, Chinatown and the Great Wall of Craggy all feature. So too does a giant tea cup and a makeshift cinema screening the blasphemous ‘The Passion of St Tibulus’ film alongside placards emblazoned with “down with this sort of thing” and of course, “careful now”.  

A leisurely evening of Buckaroo (“the sport of kings”) at the island’s Palooka Arms pub allows time for introductions to be made. Friday begins with a priests and nuns matchmaking contest, a festival blessing from Father Dara Molloy and the obligatory Ted’s Got Talent contest (which is won by Father Javier and his impressive human beatbox routine).

Saturday morning gets underway with breakfast time aerobics with Sister Assumpta before the pivotal Craggy Cup second leg football match between Inis Oirr and Inis Mor. A belated kick off means some supporters miss the game, which is won by Inis Mor 6-3.

A late afternoon expedition to the neighbouring island of Inis Meain follows, resulting in 200 plus Tedheads descending on the island’s only pub for some impromptu Mrs. Doyle-inspired tea and sandwiches pitstop. Other revelers take it in turns photographing each other kicking Bishop Brennan up the arse.

The congregation is warned the 7pm return ferry waits for nobody, but it’s a full hour before it arrives. Nighttime falls and restless souls are reminded they’re now operating on “Ted Time”. Stood on the pier as the light fades, new friendships form, stories are swapped and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ is sung (Father Noel Furlong’s version, obviously). In this moment of topsy turvy humanity, all is well.

An evening of bangers ‘n mash at Inis Oirr’s Shebangos nightclub comes before the obligatory Loveliest Couple competition, which is won by Father Colm Hernandez and Sister Jenny. Tedfest tradition dictates each year’s winners are married in a ceremony the next day.

The sound of wedding bells is prelude to one of the weekend’s main events, the Lovely Girls Competition. Ostensibly a low budget version of Ireland’s Rose of Tralee competition, the wits of the five contestant’s are pitted against each other for the prize. The eventual winner, Paula from Mayo, beats her rival in the Loveliest Laugh showdown.

A Sunday lunchtime walk to the Plassey shipwreck (as seen in Father Ted’s opening credits) for lunch follows. The rusting wreck has its own unique story; the festival coincides with the 50^th anniversary of its grounding. The islanders launched a daring rescue mission to save the stricken crew on the night of March 8^th 1960 and it was their selfless actions that saved everyone. 

No Tedfest would be complete without a Loveliest Horse Competition (this year won by a little stallion named Ginger). An equine-themed soundtrack featuring U2 and The Rolling Stones segues into the Tedfest wedding. As Father Hernandez and Sister Jenny’s vows are exchanged and confetti is thrown, the sun begins to set on another Craggy Island odyssey.

During many animated conversations with the young Irish here, it’s clear Tedfest is an event that’s instilled a quasi-biblical reverence towards a programme than in itself was created in reaction to the choking religiosity of generations before.

That everyone present seems utterly aware of this curiously Ted-like irony (despite the awesome Father Jack-esque quantities of booze that have been drank), is an ecumenical matter lost on nobody.

“The thing that makes Tedfest is the people who come here,” explains Phillips as he sits outside the Palooka Arms pub with The Big Issue on a sunny Sunday morning. “It sounds trite but it’s true. We throw a party and it’s the people who make it what it is.

“But if you put a few hundred people that already have a huge commonality for a particular thing together in a difficult place to get to, you’ve got something very special.”

For each of this year’s pilgrims, a Second Coming in 2010 is all but guaranteed. There’s only one final message to all the doubters; it’s a priest thing, you wouldn’t understand.


Alex Donohue