They fought like dockers and they swore the same way—but they never stood alone in the dark.

​Step inside a house with no boundaries and a heart as big as the Falls Road. This episode features a raw, gritty, B.B. King inspired blues anthem that tells the unfiltered story of the Scullions, eleven siblings raised in the heat of old Andersonstown.

​Presided over by "The General" Bridie and her unbreakable faith (and legendary wooden spoon), this is a tale of survival as a comedy and laughter as the ultimate weapon against pain. From missing roast meats and chip pan fires to the heavy shadow of British Army tanks roaming the streets outside, the Scullion story is a masterclass in "West Belfast to the core" defiance.

​In this track, you’ll hear about:

• ​The General Bridie: Feeding eleven mouths with an apron as her only shield.
• ​The Chaos: A missing roast, a marrow-fat pea, and the fierce spirit of the "Rat."
• ​The Scars: The tragedy of the "Golden Child" and a family bond that is stitched into the very seam of their souls.
• ​The Soul: A deep, dirty blues rhythm fuelled by rhythmic foot stomps, crying "Lucille-style" guitar, and the spirit of a family that would tear the house down just to ask for a little more.

​Whether you’re from the streets of Belfast or just appreciate a story of a family that refuses to yield, pull up a chair. Just don't reach for Monica's plate, and whatever you do, don’t let the gravy get cold.

Written and Produced by Brona Scullion | Preformed by Tadai.

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In April 1977, the Scullion family home in West Belfast went up in flames. Thanks to a chip pan, a pound of lard, and the legendary Bridie Scullion.

This hilarious yet true story stars Bridie, eleven children, and a six-week-old baby (me, Brona Scullion), as the house fills with thick black smoke, neighbours call the fire brigade, and chaos spills out onto Glenveagh Drive.

From chip pans exploding to kids jumping out of windows, and from nighties in the street to a fireman saving the day.

This is survival, Scullion style.

If you love funny family stories, Belfast humour, and tales of resilience during the Troubles, this episode is packed with laughter, nostalgia, and a reminder that no matter how much chaos life throws at you, the Scullions could always find a way to laugh through it.

It’s a Scullion Thing – comedy, chaos, and family survival in West Belfast.

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What do you get when you mix a Saturday job, a veggie van, a Belfast riot, and two Scullion brothers? Absolute chaos.

This week’s Scullion Thing stars Sean Scullion the so-called “Golden Child” and Raymond Scullion forever the “Good Samaritan.” What starts as a simple day flogging spuds and sprouts for the Veggie Man turns into gunfire, rubber bullets, brotherly punch-ups, and one very unimpressed Bridie waiting at home.

Sean takes a bullet (don’t panic, it was rubber), Raymond has a full meltdown in the street, and the pair nearly kill each other fighting over the “precious” prize they plan to sell on the side.

Because in West Belfast during the Troubles, trauma came with a laugh track and if you weren’t making money off the madness, were you even a Scullion?

Expect flying veg, street riots, dodgy bosses, and brothers who cared just enough not to let each other die but not enough to split the profit.

So who shot Sean Scullion? Spoiler alert: it was the Brits. But the real danger came from Raymond’s right hook.

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Welcome back to Scullion Stories the Irish family podcast where the stitches are real, the snitches are related, and the polyester is nearly indestructible.

In this hilarious and heartfelt episode, we dive into a true story from 1970s Belfast a time when working-class kids made their own fun, builder’s rags became battlefield weapons, and nothing was more terrifying than ruining a dress your Ma was still paying off.

Meet Monica Scullion the baby of the family, the so-called “nice one.” She’s the good girl (except for that time she "accidently" pulled my arm out of its socket — twice.

Monica’s got one goal today: convince Bridie her fearsome yet fabulous mother to let her wear her brand-new dress a day early, ahead of their trip “down south” to visit the rich relatives in Shannon, Co. Clare.

Bridie eventually agrees, on the promise that Monica stays clean.

Spoiler alert: she doesn’t.

Within minutes, Monica’s strutting up Glenveagh Drive like a young queen in her sparkling frock. But soon enough, she’s drawn to the chaos of a local building site abandoned for the day and now the playground of choice for Belfast’s rough-and-ready kids.

Today’s game? Wet Rag Throwing. A childhood classic in 1970s Northern Ireland soaked builder cloths thrown at full force. First one to flinch loses.

Monica steps up. She takes the hits. She’s solid. She’s proud. Until the crowd goes deadly silent… and she feels something warm dripping down her face.

Blood. Lots of it.

Turns out one wee lad swapped his rag for a stone. Now Monica’s pouring blood, her dress is soaked, and her sisters Margaret and Michelle leap into action.

Michelle, a Scullion through and through, unleashes pure fury on the boy responsible, while Margaret tries to comfort their baby sister, who’s now semi-conscious on the ground.

Cue the panic. The cover-up. The lies. A classic Scullion sibling plan.

But Bridie a mother of 11, a human lie detector isn’t buying it. One look at Michelle (the worst liar in Belfast) and the truth comes pouring out. An ambulance is called. Monica’s taken to hospital with a head injury and six stitches.

And the dress? Destroyed.

What follows is a frantic, furious bathroom blood-removal mission powered by fear, desperation, and 1970s polyester. The girls scrub, fight, and argue through the night, determined to save the one thing that really matters the appearance of perfection Bridie demands.

By morning, against all odds, the dress is spotless.

Monica boards the bus to the Republic of Ireland with two black eyes, a massive lump on her head, and a slightly crooked smile. She thinks people are staring because she looks amazing.

They're not. She looks like the Elephant Man in a Sunday frock.

But the dress? Still perfect.

And that’s all Bridie cared about.

• A brutally funny real-life story from 1970s Belfast
• Irish family drama with heart and humour
• Sibling chaos, stitches, and secrets
• A crash course in poor-but-proud survival
• Scullion family memories you’ll never forget

Moral of the story?

You'll learn that when you listen 😉

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Brace yourself for another wild ride through the streets of West Belfast in the 1970s, where faith, fire, and family chaos collide in spectacular Scullion fashion.

This episode features Raymond Scullion, better known in family folklore as “The Good Samaritan.” Unlike his fight-first, ask-questions-later siblings, Raymond was the peacemaker. The helper. The one who joined The Order of Malta—an organisation dedicated to service, charity, and (let’s be honest) scoring tickets to the best gigs and events.

So when Pope John Paul II announced his historic visit to Ireland in 1979—the first ever Papal visit to the Emerald Isle—Raymond found himself serving at the once-in-a-lifetime event.

To his mother, Bridie, this wasn’t just a big deal, it was the deal. In her eyes, her son wasn’t simply attending a Papal Mass. No, no—he was practically having afternoon tea with the Pope himself.

And if Bridie was excited, the neighbours definitely knew about it. The poor British soldiers stationed outside the Scullion home 24/7 knew about it too. Rumour has it some even requested transfers just to escape Bridie’s endless boasting about “her Raymond serving the Holy Father.”

But of course, in true Scullion style, the big day couldn’t pass without disaster. What started as Bridie’s dream of sending Raymond off with a hero’s breakfast turned into a full-blown kitchen inferno. Smoke, flames, screaming children, and a house that smelled like burnt sausages nearly derailed the whole event. By the time the fire was beaten down with cushions, towels, and sheer Scullion determination, the “Von Trapp” children of Bridie’s imagination looked more like a gang of soot-covered chimney sweeps.

Still, nothing—not even a kitchen fire—was going to stop Bridie from showing up in her best tik-man-financed dress to see the Pope. And when John Paul II finally swept into Dublin and Belfast, elevating himself to rock-star status alongside Elvis, the Bay City Rollers, and the Nolan Sisters, something miraculous happened. Out of the 2.5 million people in attendance, Bridie swore the Pope looked straight at her… smiled… nodded… and winked.

For Bridie, that wink wasn’t just recognition—it was confirmation that she was, without doubt, the Best Catholic in Ireland.

This episode is packed with humour, nostalgia, and outrageous Scullion family storytelling.

From the burning Ulster fry, to Bridie’s unstoppable delusions of grandeur, to Raymond cutting a heroic figure in his Order of Malta uniform, this story captures the heart, humour, and madness of growing up in Belfast during The Troubles.

If you’re here for darkly funny Irish family tales, a bit of Catholic guilt, a touch of history, and a whole lot of chaos, you’ll love this one.

#irishcomedy #irishpodcast #craic #belfast #irishhumor #comedy #irishfamily #podcastclips #irishmammy #storytime #irishheritage #funnyirish

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So this Scullion Story centres on the quietest Scullion of them all – Kay Scullion, AKA Doctor Dolittle.

Kay loved animals more than people. Birds with broken wings, stray cats, random dogs off the street – she’d bring them all home to feed.

It drove Granny Bridie demented because every new “pet” came with fleas, ticks and chaos.

But that was Kay – a loner in a house bursting at the seams with eleven kids, soldiers outside the door, and the madness of West Belfast during The Troubles.

She never went out, never had a boyfriend, never set foot in a disco. Her only nightlife involved rescuing pigeons and hiding stray dogs under the bed.

So when one night the Scullion girls heard bloodcurdling screams from upstairs, they thought Kay was dying. Kay was rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach, convinced her appendix had burst. Granny Bridie sent Briege flying next door to the Dochertys – the only family in Glenveagh Drive with a phone – to call an ambulance.

Cue more screams, chaos, and neighbours rushing in. But when Mrs Docherty lifted Kay’s big baggy jumper, everyone froze. It wasn’t appendicitis. It was a baby bump.

Shock doesn’t cover it. Granny Bridie – not known for bad language – even let out a “WHAT THE F—?!” moment. Kay? A baby? The girl who never left the house? Hadn’t so much as looked at a man? Mrs Docherty, stone-faced, suggested it must be an immaculate conception. Nobody laughed.

So off the girls ran to fetch the Scullion boys from the Donegal Celtic pub. At first, they didn’t believe it either. But soon enough the whole clan was in a frenzy.

Bridie demanded, “Who’s the Daddy?” and Kay had no choice but to whisper the name. That was it. The Scullion boys were dispatched like Bridie’s personal flying monkeys to drag him from the bar.

And drag him they did – kicking and screaming – straight to the hospital.

Now if this was The Waltons, this is where he would have kissed the baby, promised eternal love, and they’d all live happily ever after. But this is a Scullion Story.

The so-called “father” denied the baby was his. Bold as brass. But here’s the twist – Kay denied him. She looked at him the way a cat looks at a dead mouse and said, “Don’t flatter yourself – you’re not the Da.”

And truth be told, she didn’t need him. Kay had her baby, her Scullion brothers and sisters, and enough family chaos to fill a football pitch. Better no father than that sorry excuse of a man.

And, as it turns out, Kay’s instincts were razor sharp. Because not long after, that sneaky wee eejit – as the uncles put it – went on to allegedly murder his first wife. Allegedly, of course. (We’ve got to keep it legal!)

So no, Kay didn’t lose out on Prince Charming. She dodged a bullet. Or, as we Scullions like to say, she threw him back – like an unwanted fish.

This story has everything: secrets, screams, stray animals, immaculate conceptions, and the full drama of a West Belfast house crammed with eleven kids. It’s funny, it’s chaotic, and it’s pure Scullion.

So the moral? Never underestimate a quiet girl, a big jumper, or the power of pure Scullion denial.

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Welcome back to It’s a Scullion Thing – the darkly funny Irish family podcast about chaos, craic, and survival in 1970s West Belfast.

This week’s Scullion saga is one for the ages: the day Michelle Scullion – also known as The Lion-Heart Rat – got hit by a car, knocked clean out of her shoes, and still somehow ended up in more trouble at home than on the road.

Now, if you’re wondering why she’s called the Lion-Heart Rat, here’s the short version: Michelle once stood up to Tommy Scullion, which by Scullion standards made her fearless – hence the Lion-Heart. But the Rat part of her nickname?

You’ll find that out in this episode, and trust me, it’s a story you don’t want to miss.

We kick things off at the bus stop on the Glen Road in West Belfast, where Michelle, her sister Margaret, and their pal Gemma are hatching a plan. Instead of going all the way to school, they’d jump off halfway, pocket the bus fare, and spend it on cigarettes and chewing gum (ah, the 1970s – when shopkeepers sold “singles” to schoolkids and survival seemed more luck than sense).

But chaos comes quickly. Distracted mid-scheme, Michelle steps into the road, does her best Bionic Woman superhero impression, and actually tries to stop an oncoming car with the palm of her hand.

The result? The car ploughs straight into her, sending her flying out of her cardboard-lined, hand-me-down shoes.

You’d think that was punishment enough. But this is a Scullion story. Things always get worse.

Dragged to school battered and shaken, Michelle becomes the centre of attention. Margaret spots her golden ticket out of class – until the teacher ruins it by sending

Margaret back to her desk and Michelle home to Bridie.

Now, here’s where Michelle earns the Rat part of her nickname. Because unlike her siblings, Michelle couldn’t lie to Bridie. Not then, not ever. Faced with Bridie’s questions, the whole rotten truth spills out: the sneaky half-fare plan, the cigarettes, the chewing gum – everything. Sympathy gone. Punishment incoming.

Meanwhile, Margaret’s seething, Gemma’s mammy has already given her a hiding, and Michelle – the one who actually got hit by a car – is about to face Bridie’s wrath.

Only in West Belfast could a day that started with dodging school end with a car crash, a confession, and two different mothers dishing out justice with wooden spoons.

This episode is a perfect slice of Scullion life:

• 1970s childhood chaos in Belfast
• Sneaky kids with clever-but-doomed plans
• A car accident that turned into a comedy of errors
• The truth about why Michelle was called The Rat
• And, of course, Bridie Scullion – the one woman no Scullion could outsmart

Moral of the story? Don’t be a sneaky wee Milly, don’t try to outwit your ma, and for the love of God – look both ways before you cross the road.

If you love true Irish family stories packed with humour, nostalgia, and just enough madness to make you feel better about your own childhood, then this episode is for you.

So settle in for The Bionic Rat – a Scullion story full of laughs, shocks, and the kind of family chaos only West Belfast in the 70s could produce.

#ireland #podcast #spotify #dublin #irish #newpodcastalert

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My Ma’s Gonna Kill Me – Patsy vs Briege: The Day the Green Cross Code Was Rewritten by the Scullions

Welcome back to It’s a Scullion Thing, the darkly funny Irish family podcast about chaos, craic, and pure West Belfast survival. This week’s story is a two-for-one – starring two unforgettable Scullion sisters: my mum Patsy Scullion (AKA Tiny Tears) and her wee sister Briege Scullion (AKA Bridie’s Shadow).

Patsy was second born of eleven children – automatically promoted to Second Mummy while Granny Bridie worked every job under the sun to feed her brood.

Sensitive, fiercely protective, but famously accident-prone, she’s the one family members love… and sometimes fear. Even big brother Tommy still wouldn’t cross her.

Briege? She’s stubborn, headstrong, allergic to the word “no,” and followed her sister Bridie everywhere. On this sunny 1970s Belfast day, Briege had one mission: ice cream.

The problem?

Patsy was hauling two massive bags of laundry (for twelve people) down to the Busybee Laundrette, a couple of miles away.

Money was tight, tempers were short, and when Briege spotted an ice cream shop across a busy main road, things turned dangerous fast.

Patsy said no.

Briege didn’t take it well.

A shouting match turned into a tug-of-war.

Then Briege broke free – and ran straight in front of a double decker bus.

It hit her. She flew (maybe not twenty feet, but family legend insists otherwise). Patsy froze, convinced she’d just killed her sister. Then Briege popped up, yelled “I’m telling my ma!”, and sprinted home like her life depended on it.

Cue the mile-long uphill chase through Andersonstown. By the time Patsy arrived, Briege had already told their brother Sean, “She pushed me in front of a bus.” Patsy’s only thought? My ma’s gonna kill me.

To this day, no one agrees on what happened.

Patsy swears Briege jumped.

Briege swears Patsy shoved her.

Knowing both? I

t’s 50/50.

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It’s a Scullion Thing – Margaret and the Pea

A Tale of One Nose, One Pea, and Zero Common Sense

This week on It’s a Scullion Thing, I thought we’d take a gentler approach… because for the first time, we’re telling a solo Scullion girl story.

The Scullion girls, as legend goes, were good Catholic girls. They didn’t hijack the ‘RA, hotwire a car, or steal the Sunday roast. They were angels.

If you believe that, you’ll believe anything. Truth is, they were just better at not getting caught.

This episode stars a young Margaret Scullion — though I’m pretty sure she wishes it didn’t. She’s married now, changed her name… but trust me, we know who she is.

Margaret was the arty one. Stylish. Creative. Smelled of Impulse body spray (most days). If TikTok had existed in the ‘70s, she’d have been an influencer. Sadly, the only “TikTok” in our house was the electric meter eating the last 50p — which may or may not have been on a string so we could reuse it.

While most Scullion stories start with a crime, this one starts with… a smell. A serious, room-clearing pong. Granny Bridie bleached everything, even the ceilings, trying to track it down.

But it wasn’t under the floorboards — it was coming from Margaret.

She couldn’t smell it herself, which was the problem. Her siblings started shoving her off the sofa. She bathed till she looked like a skinless chicken. Even tried bleach (it was the ‘70s — health and safety didn’t exist). Still, the smell stayed.

Eventually, her brother Seamus “Rebel Without a Clue” Scullion went full bloodhound. When he sniffed her face, he leapt back like he’d found a body. The smell was coming from her nose.

Granny Bridie grabbed her, tilted her head back, and there it was — green, fluffy, sprouting roots.

It was a pea. A rock-hard marrowfat pea, the kind Northerners refuse to soften with the dreaded salt tablet. (Side note: once, a southern boyfriend “helpfully” added one to Granny’s peas… and nearly didn’t live to tell the tale. Moral? Never mess with a Scullion’s food.)

Back at the main plot, Margaret was carted off to A&E. Nurses gagged. The doctor fetched medieval salad tongs. After much digging — and one nurse fainting — the offending vegetable was removed.

To this day, no one knows why Margaret shoved that pea up her nose. Not even Margaret.

But we do know this:

• Margaret’s sinuses can grow vegetables.
• Northern peas are hard.
• Southerners are soft.
• The Scullion girls were absolutely not angels.

Why Listen?

If you love dark Irish humour, chaotic Belfast family tales, and stories that start small but spiral into full absurdity, this one’s for you.

#comedypodcast #podcastlife #StorytellingPodcast #Podcastersofinstagram #DarkHumour #FunnyStories #PodcastEpisode #IrishComedy #ComedyGold #westbelfast #belfastlife #IrishHumour #NorthernIreland #IrishPodcast #MadeInIreland #Andytown #spotifyplaylist #applemusic #amazonmusic

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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

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