“Jennie Balfe, Jennie Balfe, Jennie balfe.”
In the days when filming anything required a bag of VHS tapes, an absurd lighting reflector shield and a scruffy sound technician carrying a fat wooly sausage on a stick.
A brilliant odyssey to find Jennie Balfe whose name was scrawled on walls across Dublin 8 a decade ago.
And give her a pound of ham. The last three minutes are priceless.
A more surreal and simpler time.
But where is she now?
Thanks SnD
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