Ian Mahon suffered a traumatic early childhood. Born five miles southeast of Uganda in 1988, he was raised by a mixture of local wolves and Jason Donovan (once of Neighbours fame), with one thing on his mind: To become the greatest sports writer the world had ever known.
At the age of six, while attempting to listen to the 1994 World Cup unfold on a wind-up radio stolen from the charred carcass of a Catholic missionary, it suddenly became clear to Mahon that, due to a lack of technological advances in his homeland, he would not be able to fulfil his dreams of becoming a top sports writer in the outback. So, he set his world on a different path. Literally.
At the age of 7, with the 2014 World Cup in mind, Mahon left Tanzania — with the blessing of confidante Donovan, who sang a beautifully crafted version of Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ prior to Mahon’s departure — and began walking towards Brazil.
Mahon reached Western Angola in the late stages of 2011. It was here that his initial dreams were crushed — he realised that it was physically impossible for him to walk to Brazil, as Africa is currently separated from the South American continent by a significantly large amount of water.
He was desolate. Despite the 16-year-long walk leaving him with calf definition similar to that of former Ireland and Wolverhampton Wanderers manager Mick McCarthy, Mahon felt his dreams were ruined — until hours later, when he witnessed a small boat pull up to the Angolan coast.
In the boat was a 53-year-old aspiring Cameroonian footballer with a false passport; an openly homosexual singer; and a one-time President of the People’s Republic of South Yemen. Mahon was almost immediately invited on-board by the boat’s unusual crew, and what followed was a six-month trip involving some serious ‘bantz’ between the aspiring sports writer, Rigobert Song, Elton John and Qahtan Muhammad al-Shaabi.
As the six months came to a close, and the boat reached the southernmost tip of County Cork, Mahon bid adieu to his new-found friends through a procession of individual hugs, beginning with Rigobert Song and his illustrious dreadlocks. Next up was Elton John, who pinched Mahon’s buttocks in an embrace that verged on the homoerotic, but perhaps the most unusual embrace was left until last — Mahon went to hug Qahtan Muhammad al-Shaabi, affectionately dubbed ‘Shabs’ after six months of ‘top bantz’, but instead of hugging the former South Yemeni President, Mahon fell straight through a waft of smoke and into the ocean.
While Mahon struggled to swim in the salty sea, a sharp contrast from his upbringing in Africa, Song laughed from the boat’s edge and explained something that eventually made complete sense — al-Shaabi has been dead since 1981, and his presence was merely recreated as a by-product of Mahon’s mind following a near-six-month binge on hallucinogenic mushrooms supplied by both Song and Elton John.
Believing they were simply bog-standard mushrooms, he felt betrayed, and so swam to shore with the harrumphing belly laugh of Rigobert Song ringing in his ears.
Once reaching the shore in Cork, Mahon hitch-hiked his way to the country’s capital, Dublin, within three weeks on a variety of articulated lorries carrying a range of provisions, from cheese to beans.
A three-week diet of purely cheese and beans left Mahon horrifically overweight, and so, when reaching Dublin, he decided to join Raven, a gym situated in the quaint seaside resort of Bray. Now, in between his time attempting to do wide-grip pull ups (and failing), Mahon can be seen frantically reading through a variety of football books, from ‘Soccernomics’ to Graham Hunter’s ‘Barca’, the latter described by the native Tanzanian as, “giving me a footballing-based erection”. He is known to enjoy sleep, ‘bantz’, and anything that falls under the bracket of ‘fast food’.
Mahon currently lives in the employment hotspot of Ballybrack, where he spends his time not writing, for fear of burnout in anticipation of the 2014 World Cup, of which he is now currently well prepared. His Tanzanian parents, the wolves and Jason Donovan would all be very proud of his laptop, his television and his iPhone — a far cry from the charred radio he once fought a lion to keep.
As a result of his current commitments, coupled with the aforementioned fear of burnout, Mahon stresses that he can make “no promises” with this blog, and that, at best, it will be updated sporadically. He hopes you can enjoy the page, however, and understand that all updates he posts will be both “very serious” and “contain no humour whatsoever”.
Go fuck yourselves.