Culture That Made Me: Johnny B of the 2 Johnnies reveals his touchstones

Nirvana, Frankie Boyle and history podcasts feature among Johnny B's selections Richard Fitzpatrick  

Johnny O’Brien, aka Johnny B, of the 2 Johnnies. 

Born in 1986, Johnny O’Brien, aka Johnny B, grew up in Cahir, Co Tipperary. In 2016, he co-founded The 2 Johnnies, a musical comedy duo, with his friend Johnny “Smacks” McMahon. In 2018, they started The 2 Johnnies Podcast. 

The pair have presented TV shows and also hosted the drive-time radio show on RTÉ 2fm until earlier this year. Their first album, Small Town Heroes, was released in May. The 2 Johnnies Podcast: Pints in a Field 3, is at St Anne’s Park in Dublin on Saturday, June 7, 2025. See: www.the2johnnies.ie.

Love for Nirvana

Growing up, it was all about Nirvana. For my birthday, my older sister got me their live album From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah. I thought it was the most raucous, aggressive, insane thing any 12-year-old had ever heard. 

They looked so cool – they were scruffy, with slits in the jeans, and long hair. I wanted to grow my hair long and hang around on someone’s front porch, jamming all day. That seemed idyllic to me. I tried to take Kurt as my confirmation name but I wasn’t let.

Kerbdog inspiration

Kerbdog are from Kilkenny. The lead singer is Cormac Battle, who works at RTÉ 2fm. I only saw them in Cyprus Avenue in Cork a few months ago. 

They’re a post-grunge hard rock heavy metal band. As a teenager, I was drawn to their mix of heavy guitars you could jump around to, but it was melodic. I was never into the screaming stuff. 

Kerbdog performing on stage at Cyprus Avenue. Picture: Billy macGill.

I preferred something you could sing along to while screaming at the world and letting your hair down. Kerbdog were definitely a big influence. If they could do it, I could do it – they were only from Kilkenny and they’d released a couple of albums on big labels.

Liam Clancy

I was lucky enough to catch Liam Clancy playing in the Minella Hotel in Clonmel shortly before he died. He was amazing. I never saw an intensity like it on stage. You could hear a pin drop when he was reciting poetry. I can still remember it vividly now, the stories he told, and the passion with which he told him. He was an old man, but there was still fire in his eyes.

John Spillane

John Spillane live is really special to me. I saw him playing in Cahir Castle this summer. He was magical. He had everyone captivated. I feel like he operates simultaneously in two universes. 

He might be in the room talking about the normal, and then he slips in things less tangible – energy, spirituality and nature. He’s very relatable. It’s part of Irish life. 

People who live down the country are in touch with nature, although sometimes we might be embarrassed to say, “God, I love looking at the birds” or “I love looking at trees”, but where would we be without it. It’s deep in people.

Christy Moore

When I was younger, my family had The Christy Moore Collection 1981-1991 on vinyl. It had ‘Mystic Lipstick’ and ‘Messenger Boy’ on it. And Live at the Point on tape was played in the kitchen. 

I love his comedy and creativeness, that Irish tradition of telling tall tales in the pub, of singing funny pub songs like ‘Don’t Forget Your Shovel’ or ‘Welcome to the Cabaret’. They’re not out-and-out comedy songs that a stand-up comedian would sing but they’re very enjoyable. You’d laugh your way through them. We’ve that in our songs.

The Young Ones

As a teenager, myself and my sister watched reruns, late at night, of The Young Ones with Rik Mayall. It was so surreal and loaded with jokes. They sacrificed all sense for jokes. It came out of total chaos. 

There were four characters in the house – a teddy boy; a lick-arse looking for everyone’s approval; a punk; and a hippie. It was such a good setup. 

One episode starts with Sunday morning mass and the punk lad is screaming out the window: “Shut up!” at a funeral because they woke him up with a bell. They push the boat out.

D’Unbelievables

We had D’Unbelievables videos and DVDs in the house and played them to death. We all tried to recreate the sketches in school. Smacks was the same. It’s hard to say whether they captured life in rural Ireland incredibly accurately or they’ve influenced it. 

Their turns of phrase from 25 years ago are still being said. Five or six lads I know sound exactly like Jon Kenny or Pat Shortt. You could power the national grid off Jon Kenny – the energy off that man. 

The GAA speech he gives before an under-12 match: “Let every blow be a funeral.” They captured that world so accurately. Jon Kenny and Pat Shortt were gods to us.

Frankie Boyle

Frankie Boyle is probably my favourite stand-up comic. I heard him once say his job is finding surprising ends for sentences. I like that he’s not afraid. I heard him being asked, “Are you intentionally offensive?” 

Frankie Boyle. Picture: Dave J Hogan/Getty Images.

He said he says the funniest thing he can regardless if it’s offensive or not and sometimes he can’t help himself. He said he met his ex-girlfriend at the train station and it was a really sombre moment. She said, “Do you ever think of me?” He said, “Only when I’m trying not to come.” He didn’t really mean it, but it was the funniest thing he could think of at that moment.

Fatal Deviation

I have a guilty pleasure – action films. If I’m tired sometimes, I’ll put on an action movie. It’s easy to digest. One of my favourite Irish films is Fatal Deviation. It’s an action film set in Trim from 1998. 

Mikey Graham from Boyzone is the bad guy. It’s on YouTube. It’s got a load of fight scenes based around Trim and Navan. It’s gas. It’s such fun to watch. Put it on some night if you’re having a few cans and enjoy yourself.

Three Castles Burning

I like Donal Fallon’s podcast Three Castles Burning about the history of Dublin and all things. I love his investigation into folk music and characters like Brendan Behan and Paddy Kavanagh. 

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He did one recently on the story of Raglan Road, which was the B side to 'Scorn Not his Simplicity'. It was amazing. They reckon Paddy Kavanagh was at a trad session in a pub. He met Luke Kelly and he sang it to him.

Revisionist History

I like the Revisionist History podcast with Malcolm Gladwell. He takes moments that maybe people missed, or moments that at first have unforeseen significance. It can be very interesting. 

He looks at old experiments or, say, a certain Muhammad Ali fight and what it meant to certain groups of people at the time or when a certain famous person endorsed a certain political candidate and what that meant to people and how it might have been missed or misunderstood at the time. I learn a lot when I listen to it.