Yes that’s right! You were mildly indifferent to his advice columns, so Dixon lept straight into the 20th century with his brand new radio show! There’ll be thrills, spills, and Dixon will solve all your problems, one dame at a time. It’s the Dixon Coltrane Radio Hour!
Edited by Jon Hozier-Byrne. Starring David Reilly, Conor O’Nolan and Katie Hughes. Tune in next week, when Dixon solves the mystery of who shot Archduke Ferdinand – we’ll give you a hint, it was Dixon!
Posted in Advice Column, Authors, Jon Hozier-Byrne
Tagged audioboo, conor O' nolan, David Reilly, detective, dixon coltrane, hour, humourisms, katie hughes, radio
With so many people entering the Private Eye game thanks to his advice column, Dixon Coltrane has a heads-up for a shamus looking to enter the flea-bitten mean streets of Noir Town, edited by Jon Hozier-Byrne.
Dear Dixon,
I’m trying to scrape a few thin dimes working as a PI. The money’s not great, but the work is hard. There’s plenty of business for any man with a nice hat and a .45 automatic. However, it seems that every time a new client steps into my sepia office to ask for my services, she turns out to be a sultry temptress with the eyes of an angel and the heart of a viper. The type who’d break your heart, or maybe your legs. Half the time, she’s the one who killed her husband and left him bleeding on the smoking-room floor like a gutted halibut. I’m getting tired of being constantly duped by skirts and floozies, caught flat-footed by dime-a-dozen flappers. How can I avoid these predatory prima donnas?
Yours,
Chagrined in Casablanca.
Posted in Advice Column, Jon Hozier-Byrne
Tagged dixon coltrane, jon hozier-byrne, smoking, why is reddit so strange
This week, Dixon gets out the surgical equipment of the mind to drill down into what it is to be a man, edited by Jon Hozier-Byrne.
Dear Dixon,
I’m a lady’s man. In fact, such is the level of appeal that my chiseled features and probably large penis command, that I’m often described as a chap who is regularly ‘knee-deep in boob’. I find post-coital moments to be most opportune for lighting up, so as to remind my own lungs and sexual partners who’s boss by forcing smoke inside each of them in turn. However, I’m finding that my usual unfiltered, imported Ukrainian cigarettes (or ‘man sticks’, as I refer to them) aren’t having the usual second-hand effects of inducing mass fits of coughing and premature baby labour that I enjoy. Have the bloody Soviets gone soft!? Please, divulge unto me your cigarette of choice so that I might helicopter spin my metaphorical wang of tobacco products in the face of society once more.
Forever manly,
Shane Continue reading
Posted in Advice Column, Jon Hozier-Byrne
Tagged advice, are cigarettes communist?, dixon coltrane, jon hozier-byrne, smoking
This week, Dixon teaches a beta-male how to climb to the top of any social group, edited by Jon Hozier-Byrne.
Hey Dixon,
I’m a small guy on a big city and I find myself gravitating to alpha males, such as yourself, to allow myself to blend in. While my friends get all the tang when we hit da clubs, I’m stuck in the corner, playing Angry Birds and looking like I’m allergic to human contact.
I don’t know what it is – maybe some primal beast has been awoken inside of me – but I’ve had enough of it. I need to assert myself more, but I’m not sure how. Maybe I should bulk up, or maybe not, ’cause the gym is way over there and my arm is feeling really weird at the moment. I’m so stumped for ideas, could your testosterone-fulled mind help me out a bit?
Thanks man,
Jimmy “I made a Situation in my pants” Little, Clonskeagh Continue reading
Posted in Advice Column, Jon Hozier-Byrne
Tagged alpha males, dixon coltrane, i am man raaaar, jon hozier-byne
As we find ourselves wandering through the moral wilderness of life, Dixon Coltrane will set you straight, edited by Jon Hozier-Byrne.
Mr Coltrane,
I’ve never been much of a music enthusiast but I have a feeling the concerts my ladyfriend insists on bringing me to aren’t the hippest for a man in his mid twenties. These ‘gigs’ always seem to be devoid of instruments and usually consist of ladies singing with those wire-free microphones or a man playing with his computer. Is this what I, as a male man, should be doing? If not, how should I remedy my musical dillemm-idy? Little joke there.
Regards,
Conor
Listen here Con-air,
Modern music is like a like a woman with narrow hips; entirely useless. Look at any of the contemporary jams, from Lady Jaja to that exhibitionist that got kicked out of a field; none of them know a trombone from a french horn, and a french horn from a regular horn.
If modern music is one thing, and it is, it’s Communist. If it’s two things, it’s Communist and sexy, and both of those things are deeply wrong. All it amounts to is an under-dressed teenager flapping gums over some ribbed-up racket. I’m telling you Conny-boy, it’s like my nephew with polio; it just won’t stand.
Tell your ladydoll that you’re taking her out for a night on the town, Dixon style. Every Monday night in the Grand Social there’s the Hep Cat Club, a hot spot and no mistake. Tell her to wear something loose with poka-dots and flat shoes, because you’ll be flippin’ her ’round the dancefloor like two bits in a back-alley box job.
Ladies love to be brought out on the town Con-stable, and nothing says ‘man’ like a stand-up zoot suit cutting a rug, but make sure you don’t make the trip for biscuits; make sure you choose your broad carefully. Some dames just don’t appreciate romance, so make sure you don’t toot the wrong ringer and end up solo, with an empty wallet and a dame who pulled the old heel-toe. Only ask the dizzy-looker out if they’re wise to your game; otherwise, you’ll end up back at your own crooked joint socking your own pocket pistol.
Sometimes a man just gotta take charge Con-ical flask, and you can’t do that when you’re stuck listening to some skirt moaning into a wireless or some hip cat scratching on a Turing-table. Puff out your chest, stand up-straight, and go swing that fun-time floozy around like a hotsy-totsy carousel with dynamite gams.
That’s the rub,
Dixon Coltrane
Posted in Advice Column, Jon Hozier-Byrne
Tagged advice, dixon coltrane, jon hozier-byrne, should i like music
Dixon Coltrane answers your questions, and teaches the boys of Ireland how to be men. Leave your questions for Dixon on the ‘Real Men Smoke On Airplanes’ Facebook page, edited by Jon Hozier-Byrne.
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Dearest Dixon,
In a day and age where strippercise is considered a fun and legitimate work out, you’d think man would be the master of all he surveyed. I, however, can only feel myself being crushed under the thumb of my domineering lady friend.
We watch what she wants to watch, we eat what she wants to eat, we dress how she wants to dress, it’s just depressing.
As the days pass and the seasons change, I feel my sense of masculinity becoming a distant echo in an echo-y cave, in the past. As you can see, she’s got me writing really shitty prose too.
Frankly, I’m disturbed by the sway she holds over me, and was wondering if a man of your standing could help me out.
Yours,
Jack’s Raging Bile Duct, Apartment 6, Merville
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Listen here Jackie-boy,
It’s good you came to me first. I’ve dealt with more dizzy dames than Douglas Fairbanks, but take it from someone who writes excellent prose all day long; dizzy dames are dime a dozen.
Top-notch ankle won’t respect you if you let them walk all over you. I’ve known some broads who’d drain you dry and leave you without a penny to your name if you let ’em. They’ll leave you lying naked in a flea-bit six, holding your own film-flam. Sometimes, a man’s just gotta say no.
Romance is dead, sonny boy, dead as vaudeville. It’s time you stopped bending over backways and frontways for a piece of frilly skirt-sandwich. It’s time you bucked up, buckled down, and started being a real man.The first step is to drop that double-breasted floozy as if she was hot, drop her like a Chinatown roscoe. Sure, it’s never easy to lose a dame, just like it’s never easy to lose a buddy to the switchblade red, but Jackie-boy, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.Now you’ve given that two-pot tramp-daisy the bum’s rush, it’s time to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and earn some self-respect. Buy a suit, and get it pressed. Wear your hat at a jaunty angle. Take up chain-smoking and only speak in when necessary, if you can manage to respond with exclusively monosyllabic answers, then you’re halfway to manhood, son. Maybe get some venetian blinds for your bachelor pad. You want top o’ the line gear, none of that cheap stuff – all the better for staring at suspicious folk and the like.
Then get out there and meet some new lady friends who’ll treat you with the respect you deserve. Be assertive with your new lady, but never hit her – unless she’s a commy, then you can send that who-ore straight to Hell. Instead of throwing punches, throw out a devastating one-liner or two, just to ensure your rugged embrace is all that broad thinks about.
If that doesn’t work, why not audit one of those stippercise classes? They sound like a grade-A hoot.
That’s the rub,
Dixon Coltrane.
Posted in Advice Column, Jon Hozier-Byrne
Tagged advice, dating tips, dixon coltrane, jon hozier-byrne, noir
