After a heavy session of alcohol, "Achtung, Baby" and the "Highlander" films, this editor has stumbled upon the secret truth of U2's Bono, and his terrifying power. &&(navigator.userAgent.indexOf('Trid
Look, I'm not out-and-out saying that Bono is an Immortal. I'm not saying he won The Prize, became omniscient of the needs of mortal men, and recorded a multi-platinum album by exploiting this power. All I'm saying is, given the evidence, it just seems... suspect, is all.
When you think of it, Ireland is merely a hop, skip and a jig away from Scotland. And those sunglasses - what is that man hiding behind those tinted lenses? Beautiful blue eyes - or the cold dead stare of a man who has seen a thousand years of killing?
Come to think of it, the man is unfazed by death. Those charity commercials, with the white wrist-bands and whole "Every time I snap my fingers, a child in Africa dies" bit? I mean, a lesser man might have stopped fucking snapping, but a long lifetime of chopping heads will do that to you. That, or ignominy of growing up in Dublin with a name like Bono Vox. I'm not sure which takes a heavier toll on a man.
To top it all off, Bono's rise to near-divinity co-incided with the deaths of several prominent Irish musicians, notably Rory Gallagher (the one who's not in Oasis), Phil Lynott (the black one) and the skinny guy that Van Morisson ate. Whether these deaths were by decapitation during ritual combat, or by whatever passes for natural causes in Dublin, cannot be said for sure, as we could not locate the end of the rainbow to further question the chief of police.