Tedfest founder Peter Philips writes for Culture about the annual event celebrating the magic of the greatest sitcom of them all... And if you disagree, you'll have Father Jack to answer to.
Tedfest was conceived in the middle of a Sri Lankan civil war. I was involved in an art therapy project set up after the Asian tsunami and a Galwegian called Fergal McGrath was there doing some filming.
To take our minds off 45-degree heat and exploding land mines we amused ourselves with Father Ted references. Fergal was intrigued by the fact that I ran an Elvis Festival in Wales and suggested we do something similar for Ted. A pact was struck that if we ever got back to Galway, pints would be consumed and the idea taken further. It was our version of Ice Cold in Alex.
Only at Tedfest would you get to see a man dressed as Celine Dion emerging from inside a fish to sing the theme song from Titanic 😂😂😂 #Tedfest #frted #fathertedcrilly pic.twitter.com/eCHwWCCVuR
— TedfestHQ (@TedfestHQ) February 21, 2020
Six months later, sitting in Neachtains, we agreed that the premise for what became Tedfest would be the complete opposite of a Star Trek fan convention. No warm conference centre for us where people analyse re-runs of old episodes while lining up for selfies with secondary characters.
Instead, we would find a location where like-minded people could live the Craggy Island dream and knew that there is a only a thin veil separating the Aran island of Inis Mor and the fictional location dreamt up by Graham Lineham and Arthur Matthews.
The lovely girls of craggy island #Tedfest #frted #fatherted pic.twitter.com/MuIX0AckrJ
— TedfestHQ (@TedfestHQ) February 23, 2020
After three years, Fergal decided that his personal sanity was not compatible with co-organising Tedfest and at this time every year, when we are battling the elements to build a Chinatown at the far end of Galway Bay, I think he made the right decision. What makes Tedfest is a combination of 400 people who share a warped DNA that draws them towards an annual portal leading to a lateral universe; combined with a small team of people who in previous lives were probably part of some Wild West travelling circus freak show.
I write this in a wind-swept marquee with nothing but 3,000 miles of Atlantic Ocean to my left. Behind me are two small boxes of cardboard facemasks. One contains eyeless images of Damon Albarn, the other box full of Gallaghers. These are for the Craggy Cup, our traditional five-a-side Priests versus Nuns football match played on the beach.
The lovely girls of craggy island #Tedfest #frted #fatherted pic.twitter.com/MuIX0AckrJ
— TedfestHQ (@TedfestHQ) February 23, 2020
This years' contest will finally put an end to an issue that has out-burned Brexit –Oasis or Blur. At the opposite end of the marquee our resident SpinMaster is checking that his supply of glowsticks was not damaged during the ferry crossing. These are for Saturday night’s Nuns & Neon Old Grey Whistle Test Rave.
Celibate Olympics in full swing at the Craic Den! #TedFest #frted #fatherted pic.twitter.com/wobBz546n0
— TedfestHQ (@TedfestHQ) February 21, 2020
In front of me, I am looking at a man known only as Squigley who is putting the final touches on a 6 by 4 piece of wood on which he has drawn the imagery for what I think will be the highlight of Tedfest this year: A Fistful of Mustard – The Shootout of Giant Tools.
For many years I have been resigned to my headstone reading 'That was no way for a grown man to make a living.’
Find out more about Tedfest here.
