Pisrógs

In Kildallan lies the Relic, an ancient graveyard where two trees wrapped around eachother above the graves of two forbidden lovers.
Luke and his Mam share memories of their tight knit rural community of Kildallan.
The pair read the stories of some of their community's oldest residents. Uncovering stories of Cock Fights, Cursed Families, Pig Gangs and Riverside Hags.
Anna shares tales of her unusual childhood: selling frogs to ‘The Frog Man,’ exploring the fields around her home, and the rhythms of life at Kildallan National School, a tiny, a small schoolhouse over a century old.

Returning guest, Naas-born visual and performance artist Rónán Ó Raghallaigh.
Rónán’s work moves between indigenous Irish art and ritual action, and after a few years it was time for Luke to catch up with an old friend.
Fire throwing Fairies , Swords from Arabia, Headless horsemen and Faction Fights. This episode goes far beyond the Naas Ball.
In his new work Turais Taibhsí (“Haunted Pilgrimages”), Ó Raghallaigh translates personal pilgrimages to sacred Irish sites into layered painting and performance. Each work is rooted in on‑site research into folklore, place‑names and archaeology, and reflects how these landscapes have been altered - by colonialism, by religion and by industrial extraction.
The boys discuss how the quarrying a sacred mount like the Hill of Allen isn’t just industrial change but a violation of a spiritually‑charged place...the burial ground of Fionn mac Cumhaill.

This week on the podcast, Luke is joined by Irish professional wrestler Conor Brady Lee — better known as CBL, or simply The Bull.
Luke and CBL wander through the strange backrooms of Longford folklore old and new: The Burning of Granard, Mermaids, Fairy Horsemen, Local Characters and Teen Disco Scraps.
A Longford native and rising force in Irish wrestling, CBL carries himself with the grounded presence of someone reared on beef nuts, pat the baker and parish halls as by ropes and rings. Recently earning a WWE tryout in New Jersey, his reputation is growing, but his roots remain planted firmly in his home soil.

Join us for a trans-dimensional Sweeney family reunion.
Musician, DJ, producer and Mafia Don - Rory Sweeney is part of a long Irish tradition of artists who go somewhere when they make work, and the Sweeney name has been going somewhere strange for a very long time.
Rory’s music effortlessly straddles heavenly dreamscapes and noisy dystopia, and his deep affection for Irish myth and landscape has come fully into view within the sonic and visual world of his new album Old Earth.
Luke and Rory drift through the National Folklore Collection's tales of poetic divine frenzy (buile) and discuss why Irish art has always flirted with possession. They talk liminality, second sight, fairy cavalcades and ghostly processions. Cursed clans, underground passages, haunted houses and magic sticks (which eat butter for some reason?)

Before saunas were a lifestyle brand, Ireland had sweat houses.
Luke traces the forgotten history of the teach allais. Stone sweat huts used in Ireland from at least the early 1600s, centuries before cold plunges and wellness retreats became fashionable. Built into riverbanks and hillsides, sealed shut and fired with turf, these places pushed the body to its absolute limit in the name of cure.
But these Sweat Houses were gnarlier than our boujie sauna exports. Sweating was considered a medicine, and certain instances people were bled, wrapped, sealed inside stone chambers for hours, then plunged into rivers, handed a bottle of whiskey or sent straight to bed.
But the exact extent of the use of Sweat Houses remains a mystery. 1/3 of Sweathouse remains are found in Leitrim and Cavan, and some leitrim locals reference altered states, mushroom-like hallucinations and poitín distilling.
Is sauna culture in 2026 a newfangled export, or a return to natural way of being?