• This week on It’s a Scullion Thing,

Buckle up, because today’s story dives headfirst into the fast and foolish antics of a young Seamie Scullion — a rebel without a clue, a boy with big dreams and zero street smarts, and a heroic partner-in-crime that quite literally brought him down.

Welcome to West Belfast in the 1970s — a place where kids ran wild, mothers ran mad, and dogs ran the show. Seamie, like most Scullion children, was a headstrong little banshee with a severe allergy to authority and an intense passion for justice… mainly the kind that suited him. He wasn’t bad bad, just chaotically mischievous – the kind of kid who’d get detention for punching a teacher because she disrespected his sandwich. You know the type.

But more than anything, Seamie loved animals – especially dogs. Enter Cheetah – the family’s beloved (and questionably named) German Shepherd. Why “Cheetah”? According to my mummy, “Because it was black.” Make of that what you will. Honestly, trying to understand OG Scullion logic is like trying to read IKEA instructions drunk.

Anyway, one fateful day, young Seamie had had enough. He’d been wronged by the family system one too many times (probably someone ate the last sausage), and in a moment of melodramatic brilliance, he decided to run away from home. Not just a walk round the block. No no — Seamie envisioned himself as a West Belfast Butch Cassidy, roaming the land, righting wrongs, and leaving heartbreak in his wake. And of course, Cheetah was coming with him.

Picture it: a young lad, a loyal dog, a stolen loaf of bread, and enough delusion to power a small nation. He wandered through the Andersonstown streets like The Littlest Hobo meets The Terminator, imagining a life of fame, freedom, and hot-wired Ford Escorts.

But reality has a funny way of hitting Scullions square in the gob.

As night fell, Seamie and Cheetah grew cold, hungry, and desperate. So naturally, Seamie’s next move was to break into a car for shelter. Totally normal runaway behaviour. After 15 minutes of fighting the lock with the finesse of a drunk octopus, he was in. Success! But Seamie wasn’t done. Oh no. Our hero attempted to hotwire the car with zero knowledge, training, or actual wires that connected to anything useful.

What did he achieve? Nothing. Except accidentally turning on the full beam headlights, which lit up the street like the Fourth of July — and the living room of the car’s very angry owner.

Cue the entrance of West Belfast’s answer to The Terminator: a man with a bat, zero chill, and the stamina of a triathlete. Seamie and Cheetah legged it. But in a dramatic plot twist, Cheetah tripped him up — launching Seamie into the air like a human firework and scraping every inch of skin off his body on landing.

The angry man caught up, gave Seamie a clout (it was the 70s, remember), and dragged him — bleeding and blubbering — back to his mommy’s house. Only to discover… Seamie had made it three streets away. That’s it. Three.

When Bridie opened the door, she didn’t gasp in horror. She didn’t break down crying. She simply said: “I thought you were in bed.” Honestly, Seamie would’ve rather the bat.

Humiliated, bruised, and betrayed by his own dog, Seamie was frogmarched back to his room — only to be met by his brothers, who immediately burst into roars of laughter at the state of him.

No sympathy. No solidarity. Just classic Scullion sibling banter: “Seamie’s in trouble! Seamie’s in trouble!”

And the best bit? Bridie shouted up the stairs: “And don’t think you’re getting any dinner! I know it was you that stole my loaf!”

Justice. Served cold.

#HOOD #ItsaScullionThing #comedypodcast #podcastlife #StorytellingPodcast #Podcastersofinstagram #DarkHumour #FunnyStories #PodcastEpisode #IrishComedy #ComedyGold #westbelfast #belfastlife #IrishHumour #NorthernIreland #IrishPodcast #MadeInIreland #Andytown

Welcome back to It’s a Scullion Thing.

The brutally honest, darkly funny, and totally outrageous podcast about growing up Scullion in 1970s in West Belfast.

In this episode, we’re diving headfirst into one of the most ridiculous and hilarious attempted crimes to ever come out of Andersonstown. The time a young Sean Scullion and his gang of teenage eejits tried to hijack a van, only to find out it belonged to the bloody IRA.

Set against the chaos of The Troubles, with petrol bombs flying and rubber bullets whizzing down the Glen Road, we follow Sean, the golden child of the Scullion family, and his band of daft but well meaning mates — aka the Moron Mafia — as they stumble upon a replica rifle during a local riot.

While most kids would’ve legged it in the other direction, not our Sean. No, he saw it as a sign from God and decided this was his moment to shine.

Their plan? Was Simple.

Hijack a car.

Or a van.

Or anything with wheels and go full gangster.

Take it for a joyride. Burn it out. Become local legends.

Armed with nothing more than pillowcase balaclavas, teenage bravado, and a very fake gun, these lads launched a hijacking attempt so ridiculous it deserves its own Netflix special.

Hiding in bushes like discount commandos, they jumped out in front of a van screaming like they'd watched too many action films, only to discover they'd picked the wrong target. The very wrong target. Behind that van window wasn’t some poor civilian, it was a van full of actual IRA men, that were armed and balaclava’d up and absolutely howling with laughter.

What followed was a standoff straight out of a comedy crime caper, with Sean dropping his “gun”, one of the boys wetting himself, and the IRA literally telling them to

“Take the next one, lads we’re on a job.”

Humiliated, terrified, and suddenly very aware of their own stupidity, the boys trudged home in silence, reputations shattered, dreams of gangland glory in ruins, and one replica rifle flung back into the bushes in pure betrayal.

This riotous tale is a masterclass in working-class absurdity, Belfast humour, and just how not to commit a crime.

It’s got it all:

Big Gangland Dreams

Badly planned delinquency,

Accidental run-ins with paramilitaries.

If you love stories about growing up in West Belfast, tales of dysfunctional but fiercely loyal families, and the kind of dark Irish comedy that makes you laugh, cringe, and gasp all at once, this episode is for you.

Think Derry Girls meets The Sopranos, with more chip pan grease and less planning.

Tune in now for a wildly entertaining ride through the streets of 1970s Belfast, where every riot had a fruit stall, every child had a smart mouth, and even the IRA had a sense of humour.

#IrishComedy #DarkHumour #WestBelfast #TrueStory #ComedyPodcast #Belfast #belfastcity #PodcastRecommendations #Storytimefun #Irish #TheTroubles #WorkingClass #Humour #PodcastLife #Podcastersofinstagram #truecrimeaddict #BelfastLife #LaughTillYouCry #ComedyContent #Comedy #IRA #andytown

Welcome to It’s a Scullion Thing.

The podcast where craziness, chaos and craic collide in a deeply dysfunctional dance through the trauma-soaked, gravy-drenched halls of West Belfast family life.

This week, we dive headfirst into what can only be described as one of the greatest culinary injustices in Northern Ireland's domestic history , the mysterious disappearance of a sacred Sunday Roast in the Scullion house.

A tale so dramatic, the neighbours gathered like it was the Last Supper... except with more shouting, more side-eyes, and less actual food.

Set in the heart of Andersonstown in the mid-to-late 70s, the story centres on the oldest Scullion sibling, Tommy: a self-appointed head of the house, and the sort of man who could give both Columbo and a cornered badger a run for their money.

When Bridie’s lovingly prepared Sunday Roast vanishes without a trace, suspicion turns to Tommy, mostly because everyone else was still asleep and Tommy... wasn’t.

What follows is a full-blown family court trial, Scullion-style.

Think Judge Judy meets Shameless.

The children become the jury.

A bandaged-up Margaret is named judge (mainly because her medical dressing looked like a powdered wig).

Tommy decides to represent himself.

A terrified neighbour is roped in as the prosecutor.

And the dog — yes, the literal dog — is thrown under the bus as the accused.

Oh, and let’s not forget Michelle “The Rat” Scullion — the tomboy truth-teller who stood up for Rudy the dog with the confidence of a girl who knows exactly when someone’s full of shite.

You’ll hear about the courtroom drama that captivated a street, the family politics that would make Machiavelli blush, and the kind of food obsession that ends in threats, tears, and deeply suspicious knife-related "accidents" involving Monica Scullion (the nice one, allegedly).

Our family doesn’t do drama — we weaponize it, pass it down like heirlooms, and make sure it’s loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

What to Expect:

• True crime energy, but make it Sunday dinner
• Swearing, sarcasm, and a bandaged child judge
• Emotional damage disguised as humour
• Funny true stories from Belfast
• And a roast so legendary it deserves its own plaque
• Real-life Belfast stories podcast

This isn’t just nostalgia — it’s a warning.

Never leave a roast unattended near a hungry Scullion.

Like, share, follow, subscribe... or we’ll send Tommy round 🤣🤣

It’s a Scullion Thing.

Gravy, guilt, and generational trauma. Served weekly.