Tag: macgowan’s

  • Where is Shane MacGowan’s 1916 Rifle?

    We are sad to report that a Lee Enfield rifle, used in the 1916, Rising, belonging to the late great Shane MacGowan, has gone missing.

    The Lee Enfield 303 rifle was used by volunteers during Easter Week, and was given as a present to Shane MacGowan for his 60th birthday by fellow singer Glen Hansard. It has disappeared, thought to have been taken, possibly as a joke, from his home.

    The rifle has major emotional significance to Shane’s widow, Victoria, as it was used during the occupation of the GPO in 1916. It brought the singer some joy after being given as a present.

    “Shane was not a materialistic person,” Victoria says, explaining that mementos given to him by friends were valued by him much more than “flashy stuff.”

    Notably, the gun was already decommissioned, so “it’s not as if it can even be used for it’s original purpose,” Victoria added.

    Resale Value

    Typically stolen art and antiques may fetch 10 – 25% of full market value, as the object can never be sold on the open market again when it is known that it does not legally belong to the vendor.

    In this instance, as the unusable gun was bought for €2,000, this suggests that resale value may only be worth €200 – €500, in the event that the object is identifiable as having been acquired through misappropriation.

    Crucially, the value of art and antiques is all about the provenance – the story behind it, and where it came from.

    In this instance, as the gun has “H Munn” inscribed on the wooden butt, the artifact is particularly identifiable – and thus possibly of even less resale value than otherwise.

    Conscience

    Ultimately, the person who took it may want to look into their conscience and consider whether holding onto it at the cost of distressing his widow is worth the hassle.

    Alternatively, should the taker fail to find their conscience, it may be in their interest to evaluate whether the prospect of being prosecuted for criminal larceny is worth the while for something of relatively little monetary value – as well as facing potential ire from his army of fans on later dates.

    Speaking to Victoria, she says that “whoever took it probably didn’t mean any harm” and it “was possibly a joke” but that she “would love to get it back, no questions asked.”

    If it can be found, Cassandra Voices is happy to accept the artifact with no questions asked, and return it to Victoria. Just drop us a line: admin@cassandravoices.com.

  • Shane MacGowan’s Madonna

    So, it’s Thursday night in Dublin, I’ve found some Poitin, and am thinking of Shane MacGowan. How very sad it is that he’s gone. ‘A Rainy Night in Soho’ playing on the radio.

    I had a funny connection with Shane.

    His wife Victoria gave me a photo of her and Shane for an auction, to raise money for a battle against a semi-state body spraying pesticides.

    I had to get it signed. ‘Come on over!’ Victoria said. Next thing I’m in their  house, Victoria has scarpered, and I’m alone with Shane.

    I’ve had the photo of them blown up and printed on canvas. Shane loves it,  grabs it, asks me what it’s for, takes a green marker and scrawls, ‘Fuck Those F—  Hypocrites! Love Shaney XXX’.

    Wow.

    Business completed, joints are rolled. Blue gin poured.

    My head is melting.

    My heart is too.

    Shane talks poetry. Seamus Heaney. James Clarence Mangan. The Famine. The Rising. Have I ever been ‘strung out’?. Where do I live? With whom? I explain I’m with my children and their partners. ‘A commune!’.

    Would I like some music? Absolutely I would. Shane leans over the arm of the sofa where he’s sitting to rummage through a box of CD’s.

    ‘I used to play with this band’ he says, shyly, ‘the Pogues’.

    I want to jump up and hug him. I want to say everyone in the whole world knows the Pogues and your incredible music Shane!

    ‘That would be lovely’ I say. ‘I’d love to hear you and the Pogues’.

    Shane slides in ‘Rum, Sodomy and the Lash’.

    Victoria re-appears.

    Shane looks around. ‘Hey Vic, give ‘er that’, he says, pointing to a floor tile on which he’s drawn the Virgin Mary.

    In brightest greens and blues, Mary is standing, holding one arm up. ‘What’s she doing?’  ‘Calming her people’ says Shane. ‘And the little guy with a Kalsnikov?’. ‘He’s minding her’.

    I’m unsure if I should take it. Victoria, who’s probably seen hundreds of items given away, is graciousness itself: ‘He’s delighted to give you something’.

    I finally leave, my head ringing, thinking when I’d asked Paul McCartney if he’d sign a rare Beatles EP, a frosty PR company replied: ‘Sir Paul does not sign memorabilia’

    Thinking how CRAZY it is that notorious hellraiser Shane MacGowan has just given me a picture of the Virgin Mary. On a floor tile.

    And also, this thought: it’s the middle of the recession. I can’t keep asking artist friends for help. I’ll collect Virgin Mary’s instead. And sell them.

    The Irish Museum of Modern Art IMMA made a beautiful print of Shane’s original, ‘Gra agus Beannacht’ added in Shane’s hand.

    I was on my way.

    I had to visit Shane and Victoria again to get the prints signed. Exhausted after a UK trip, Shane lined up something for himself and said: ‘Okay give me those fukken things’ then, gent that he is, signed them all.

    He and Victoria were guests of honour at our first exhibition of Virgins in the local Arts Centre. He the first to buy. A beautiful print of his beloved Sinead O’Connor as Mary by Aga Szot (who previously featured as an artist on Cassandra Voices). Nobody else moved. ‘Fukken tight fist fukken cunts’ Shane growled.

    Sinead O’Connor as Mary by Aga Szot.

    O Lord.

    Truth be told, a Catholic boarding school girl, I’d never much liked Mary. She seemed cold. Distant. Pastel. Shane turned me on to a different one. A powerful female icon. A warrior woman, ‘Calming her people’.

    With everything he cut to the chase.

    ‘I just wanted to shove music that had roots, and is just generally stronger and has more real anger and emotion, down the throats of a completely pap-orientated pop audience.’

    He sure succeeded. He sure was loved for it.

    He was beautiful. Impossible. Sensationally gifted. Honest. Punk. Sensationally sensitive. Spiritual. Political. Wild.

    ‘Gra agus Beannacht’ in the fullest measure.

    He will be sorely missed in this ‘pap-orientated’ world.