Not a Snowball's Chance in Hell

It snowed.
There might even have been a couple of inches of the stuff in Dublin.
And yes, it's been cold, though not in Malta where our Minister for Transport Noel Dempsey is currently sunning himself.
Anyway, it snowed and we had ice and fog and frost.
And yet another national crisis.
Following hot on the heels of the economic collapse (international problem, not our fault says the government) we had the floods (global warming, not our fault says the government) and now the big freeze (climate change, not our fault says the government).
Soon to come will be public service strikes (not our fault, blame the unions, the government will say) summer drought (see above) winter gales (see above) and half a million unemployed (see above).
I can say one thing for certain.
If I ever plan to have a piss-up in a brewery, I will not be asking any members of our current government to organise it.
I see snow on a rope in the back garden. I will not be asking any of them to kick it off.
Because they are inept. They have proven themselves unable to face any of the challenges thrown at them.
They prevaricate, they procrastinate, they delegate. But they don't actually do anything.
There is only one thing for it.
I'm off to build a snowman with Charlotte.
Note the word 'build.'
I wonder if there's a grant of any kind going?

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No Real ads from the Real IRA

I have noticed, around my neighbourhood, a few notices stuck on lamposts urging one and all to join the 32 County Sovereignty Movement.
Snappy name, that.
Anyway, it's a kind of mundane ad for a terrorist organisation. Dull. Unexciting.
And, frankly, not at all getting their point across.
I mean, what they do is support the Real IRA in every way they can.
So, really, shouldn't their ad look a bit more like this?

*********************

DO YOU WANT TO KILL PEOPLE?
FANCY MURDERING SOMEONE – AT NO RISK TO YOURSELF?

We will show you how to:

Plant bombs, run away, and set them off by remote control.
Chuck pipe bombs through the windows of houses
Fire guns from a safe distance – safe for you, that is!
Join gangs armed with baseball bats to attack individuals (no crowds, they might fight back!)
Ruin lives
Set Ireland back 100 years and
Allow you to tell your children you’re a killer.

SO. ARE YOU THICK?
ARE YOU UNCIVILISED?
ARE YOU COMPLETELY BRAINLESS?

Well, you’re our man.

Women are more or less welcome too as long as they're a bit of fun an, you know, willing.

So get a move on.

After all, it IS the year 1162

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Democracy, a Side Show Masking the Greed Which Rules the World

The United States is going to the polls.
The Ukraine is facing a snap election.
The world's biggest democracy, India, is voting next year.
Journalists, commentators, pundits and experts of all sorts are excited.
Indeed, the voting public, the electorate will be quite exercised by the votes in those countries and anywhere else on the planet where they get the chance to choose those who lead them.

Only it's a complete farce. A complete and utter waste of time. A sham.
Because regardless of who it is we elect, no matter whether the odious Sarah Palin gets to second biggest job in the world, no matter who rules the vast population of India, it will make not a shred of difference.
We now know, democracy doesn't work, doesn't even exist.
Sure, on paper it looks better than totalitarianism, dictatorships, ancient monarchies and the like.
But in reality, it's no different.
Leaving aside altogether the way 'model" democracies like the US cheat people out of their votes by challenging those with a legitimate right to vote.
Forgetting altogether the 'hanging chads' and the irrational impatience of the US Supreme Court eight years ago.
Dismissing the long queues for voters in poor (Democratic) areas and the lack of such inconvenience in wealthier (Republican) areas, it is quite clear that George W Bush doesn't and didn't rule the United States.
Maybe Dick Cheney does and did. At least, maybe he and his mates do and did.
Because that's what we know now.
Business rules the world.
Money rules the world.
Bankers, hedge fund managers, investors, speculators, weapons dealers, gamblers rule the world.
The greedy, the immoral and amoral and the uncaring rule the world.
The selfish rule the world.
Vote for whom it is you please, they have, it is so apparent, no control whatsoever over world affairs.
World affairs have been run by bankers and investors and will continue to be run by bankers and investors.
Democracy is a side show, a distraction.
Democracy just hides the evil and the greed on which everything is predicated.
A handful of people, be they in the US, Britain, Russia, China, India - even little Ireland - decide what's what and the politicians fall into line even if they don't know that's what they're doing.
Depressing?
It certainly is.
Because if the rich just gave up a tenth of what they have, we would eradicate hunger, much of the disease that ravages the poor world, lack of education and misery.
But they won't because that's why they exist. To accumulate at the expense of others.
And there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.
Nothing.
Except, maybe, pray.

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Bad Weather and a Good Idea to Solve EVERYTHING

Here is the weather forecast for Ireland.
It will be cloudy, there will be rain. It won't be that warm. And it might be windy.
Yes, I know we get lovely days when the sun shines and it's nice and calm and warm.
But if you want a forecast that's right 90 per cent of the time, stick to the above.
Last Friday, the RTE weather forecast predicted that Saturday would be fine, warm and sunny.
It wasn't. It rained. And it wasn't what you'd call 'warm,' well, not if you're used to holidaying in places which are genuinely warm.

People often say that we put up with too much in Ireland.
And we do.
We've been ripped off by chain stores for years, charging up to 50 per cent more in the Republic of Ireland than in the North. They trot out the usual excuses about 'long distances' and 'transport costs.'
If that was the case, the people in Inverness would be paying £5 for a pint of milk. And they're not.
We put up with lousy service in restaurants. We put up with dirty streets, we put up with extortionate toll charges on our roads. Note OUR roads.
And we put up with lousy weather.
For example, when I was in Australia a few years ago - it was during their Autumn - I was brought, by friends, to a beach not far from Sydney. 'Fantastic' I said as I changed and jumped into the sea for a swim.
They thought I should be certified. It was 18 degrees and, to them, the depths of winter.
Such little things like rain, cold, wind and cloud don't bother us.
Come the middle of May, there are those who, regardless of the weather, celebrate the arrival of "Summer' by changing into shorts, sandals and t-shirts, be they male or female.
We shouldn't put up with the lousy weather.
We shouldn't accept the Met Office telling us, like they did last Summer, that the weather is 'unsettled' when there is rain for 64 consecutive days. You don't get more settled than that.
Instead of wasting money on building roads, schools, hospitals and such like, what we should have done when we had the money, was resettle the entire population in the South of France or Spain. We'd have money left over.
And we could have left behind a United Ireland, albeit one with nobody in it bar American tourists, people from Holland and Germany playing bodhrans in Doolin and a few fishermen and hill walkers.
No more complaints about the weather. No more whinging about traffic jams, no more crowded Accident and Emergency rooms, no more inept government - just the best decentralisation plan ever undertaken.
Decentralising the entire population to sunny climes.
I wonder if it's too late...

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Emigration Again This Time Sparked By Grubbiness

There have been many reasons, over the centuries, why people emigrated from Ireland in their droves.
A thousand year ago, or more, they left our shores to bring Christianity and, indeed, education to parts of Europe where their legacy is still celebrated.
In the 19th century, they left, of course, because of the potato famine which decimated the population.
In the middle of the 20th century, it was unemployment and poverty which forced, particularly young men, to leave Ireland.
Now, though, I fear a new wave of emigration.
This time, it will be spurred on not by poverty or famine or indeed a desire to spread God's gospel.
No. It will be as a result of Ireland becoming a nasty, grubby, greedy place where the only God worshipped is money.


We have long since passed the time when we expected moral leadership from our politicians. Having granted themselves more than 30 pay rises in the past ten years, they have demonstrated their greed for all to see.
It's hard not to blame them.
Our most senior politician, the Taoiseach Bertie Ahern, who received all of those pay rises and saw his salary almost treble in ten years, also pocketed large sums of money given to him by businessmen.
He says there were no favours asked or given.
Well, we might believe that if he had managed, once, to tell the truth to the Tribunal investigating his affairs.
Sure, it has not found evidence that he took money from the businessman Owen O'Callaghan. And that was the allegation which led to the Tribunal being set up.
But what it has found is vast sums of money in numerous accounts, in various currencies, amounts Bertie Ahern has failed to explain.
Bertie Ahern. What a legacy he will leave.
He has overseen the creation of vast wealth in Ireland during his term as Taoiseach. Sadly, most of it is concentrated in a very few hands.
We are still short of schools and have many, many schools in appalling condition.
The health service is a farce, a dangerous farce top heavy with administrators and short of front line staff not to mention equipment and facilities.
Crime is rampant, despite what Bertie Ahern says. We are short of prison spaces and of policemen.
And our heritage is being bulldozed, not to build a road to ease the lot of commuters, but to open up land for development.
In most countries, a site such as Tara would be treasured.
But then, Bertie Ahern has often talked about his admiration for the Chinese way of doing things. "Up and over, without all the public consultation," was more or less how he put it on one occasion.
There is no value placed on culture in Ireland any more.
There is little or no value placed on religion of any kind.
There is no value placed on honesty, decency or generosity.
If I was younger, I think I'd be off.
As it is, many of our young find the place distasteful.
And we're going to lose them.

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The Peasants Will Soon Be Revolting

Bertie opens Dublin Airport's 'too little too late' Pier D. He'll never have to use it.

Did you ever notice, that when a factory or big new company opens up, there's always a politician on hand to do the official ribbon cutting and to, essentially, take the credit?
Did you ever notice, that when a new piece of infrastructure is opened, there's always a politician right at the front of the photograph to, essentially, take the credit?
Did you ever notice, that when a new school or hospital is opened, there's always a politician there, grinning at everyone and shaking hands and, essentially, taking the credit?
But if you noticed all that, did you also noticed, that when a factory or big employer closes down, the politicians aren't to be seen?


Did you notice that, when a new road ends up being a disaster, jammed with traffic morning, noon and night, the politicians have disappeared?
And did you notice that, when the new school becomes overcrowded and when the A&E in the new hospital becomes full of patients on trolleys, the politician is elsewhere?
Right now, things are pretty much going down the toilet in Ireland.
While I never, ever, liked those who talked the economy down when things were a bit better than they are now, the huge rise in unemployment cannot be denied.
The virtual collapse of the housing market is there for all to see.
The lack of money is apparent everywhere.
And there is an undeniable sense of foreboding.
So. What are the politicians doing?
Essentially, shag all. Not a thing. Diddly squat. Nada. Rien. Faic.
Well, that's not quite right.
What they're doing is telling the rest of us that everything's fine and dandy. It's not as bad as it looks. Our 'essentials' (sounds like underwear to me) are strong. We're still outperforming Burkina Faso and Chad, or something. And that makes it all grand.
And, in fairness to them, from where they're sitting, on the fat backsides earning vast sums of money, claiming enormous unjustifiable expenses, getting chauffeured around the place at our expense and going home in the evening in the full knowledge that, unlike everyone else in the country, they qualify for a pension after not too many weeks in the job, things are fine and dandy.
You know, we studied history in school and often wondered what it was that prompted people to start revolutions.
I hope, that in a hundred years time, someone reads this, so they'll know why ours began.

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Why We Are Forced To Elect Fools

They have set out on the long road of electing a new president for the United States of America.
By this time next year, the new man, or woman, will be in place.
But what kind of choice does the American electorate have?
Are they choosing between McCain and Obama and Huckabee and Romney and Clinton and Edwards and Guilliani to find the best person to run their country?
Of course they're not.
What they are doing, is choosing between a bunch of people all of whom found it possible to raise millions, nay, tens of millions of dollars in their bids to reach the White house.
The best person to run the United States - whoever it may be - isn't in the race.
Indeed, of the seven mentioned above, it's likely that not one would be in the top ten thousand of those capable of running the US, let alone the top seven.

Let me say here, I don't know of a system better than democracy. But, regardless, democracy is flawed. At least, it's flawed in the way it is practised in virtually every country in which it is employed.
In the United States, and to a degree in other wealthy democracies, it is only those who have enormous financial backing, who can go forward for election.
In other countries, such as Britain or Ireland - indeed, most European democracies - it is generally only those who have the backing of large political parties who can put themselves forward for election.
The result, in Ireland at least, is a very, very narrow choice.
If it were not for the fact that Irish politicians are litigious in the extreme, I would name those that only a fool would elect.
There are plenty of them.
Our parliament if full of sons and daughters of politicians. It is populated by the widows of politicians, by their nieces and nephews, cousins and in-laws.
It is full of dynasties.
And they are people unafraid to pay themselves large amounts of our money. They collect, in expenses, seven and eight times the sums pensioners are awarded - by them - to live on for a year.
They take inordinately long holidays.
And they preside over - in Ireland - a shambolic health system, organised crime running rampant, an insufficient number of schools, a road system chronically bad because it has been built to facilitate the opening of land for development rather than for the convenience of commuters, a social welfare system that sees tens of thousands living in poverty and a climate of greed and "I'm all right Jack" that has seen the rich become considerably richer in recent years and the poor left to fend for themselves on the crumbs.
We are, at election time, presented with a list of fools from which we are asked to choose our representatives.
We are not asked to vote for those whom we wish to elect, but those whom the political parties which us to elect.
And so we try to choose the least foolish who may nonetheless be a fool.
And tragically, the only ones who can change the system, are the fools we elect.
We should, for example, not permit the relatives of deceased TDs to take the seats of their departed family members.
We should allow a choice of "none of the above" for voters on election day. And those reject should be barred for ten year from presenting themselves for election again.
But is as likely as pigs voting on whether rashers should be smoked or maple. It is as likely as a sheep suggesting that it may as well be hung, as a lamb.
We are stuck with fools, often dishonest fools, often lazy fools, but certainly fools.
Are we are stuck with countries badly run by people who couldn't run them well even if they wanted to. Which they don't.
That's why they have dictators here and there.
And it's why the prospect isn't all that appalling.

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This is Ireland's Winter Wonderland

It's the same every year. The Christmas cards arrive and, almost without exception, they feature snow.
There are snowman. There are little cottages with snow on the roof. There are children playing in the snow. There are people tobogganing. There are buildings covered in snow.
Here in Ireland, companies send you cards which have digitally enhanced pictures on the front, showing their Dublin headquarters covered in snow.
Televisoin stations show us promotions. And there are always snow flakes.
Television advertisements feature snow, and some even feature Dublin scenes, covered in show.
Even the decorations on our streets are based on snow.
When was the last time it snowed at Christmastime in Ireland?
Some time around the birth of Christ, I'd wager.
So here is our new Christmas song. It's called Ireland's Winter Wonderland.
And, like the card above, it's true to life.

****

Car horns blare, traffic’s crawling,
Traffic jams, are appalling,
It’s nothing but rain,
It’s always the same,
This is Ireland’s winter wonderland.

Gone away is the summer,
Winter here is a bummer,
It rains cats and dogs,
There’s frost and there’s fog,
This is Ireland’s winter wonderland

In the meadow we can build a mudman,
And pretend that we’re in Sandy Lane,
But we know in our hearts that it’s a dudman,
And tomorrow ‘twill be lashing down again.

Later on, we’ll conspire,
As we sit by the fire,
Completely unfazed,
‘Cos we’re double glazed,
This is Ireland’s winter wonderland.

In the meadow we’ll swim in a puddle,
And pretend we’re on the Costa del,
But really in the cold we’ll all be huddled,
As the weather turns our Christmas into hell.

When it rains, it’s depressing,
In three layers you’ll be dressing,
You pray there’ll be snow,
But in your heart you know,
Not in Ireland’s winter wonderland.

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Ireland's Prosperty: How it Started and How it Will End

From where did our recent and famed prosperity come?
The truth is, it came from lots of sources.
And here are some:
Europe, who pumped in billions without which prosperity would not have arrived.
The efficiency of John Bruton’s government which, if it was still in power, wouldn’t have us in this mess.
Jack Charlton.
Ray Houghton’s goal in Stuttgart to beat England.
U2.
Bob Geldof and his role in Live Aid.
Michael O’Leary and Ryanair.
Seamus Heaney.
Maeve Binchy
Father Ted
Bailey’s Irish Cream.

Riverdance.
Terry Wogan.
Temple Bar.
The IFSC.
The Royal Hospital
And even the Rosc exhibition
(and yes, I know they’re all Haughey inspired)
The DART.
Italia ‘90.
Rugby’s resurgence.
Pearse Brosnan.
Liam Neeson.
Gabriel Byrne.
Neil Jordan.
Jim Sheridan.
Roddy Doyle.
Low corporate taxes.
The US economic boom.
Peace, more or less, in the North.
Bill Clinton.
Pope John Paul II’s visit.
The building boom.
The house price boom.
Immigration.
Celebrity immigration.
Eddie Jordan.
Braveheart, Saving Private Ryan and other blockbuster movies.
Golf.
Stag parties.
Hen parties.
Multiplex cinemas.
Greater access to third level education.
Dermot Desmond.
Denis O’Brien.
Sean Quinn.
Michael Smurfit.
Harry Crosbie.
Dennis Desmond.
Jim and Peter Aiken.
John Fitzpatrick and his hotels in New York and Chicago.
The Cat Laughs Festival.
Oxegen, despite the spelling.
The Electric Picnic.
Vicar Street and The Point.
Croke Park.
The ‘new’ Gaa.
Rocket.
Sushi.
Bagels.
Parmesan Cheese.
Good restaurants.
A taste for wine.

And one thing that will kill it forever:
Greed.

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I'm Glad Ireland Is Not In Africa. (Or Am I?)

I am, kind of, glad that Ireland is not in Africa.
If it was, there would have been a coup a long, long time ago.
Why?
Well, all the ingredients are there.
We have a prime minister who is paying himself and his cronies more than just about any other leader in the world. And he’s doing it with public money, money taken off the people in taxes.
In addition to that, he has taken ‘loans’ from friends. These ‘loans’ weren’t ‘loans’ at all until it was discovered that he had received them. Up to that point, not a cent had been paid back.
He then lies, or at least doesn't tell the truth, to a tribunal of investigatioin.
And he won't explain what it was necessary for him to abandon the banking system and hide money in a safe while he was going through his separation.
I can only presume, despite his record, that he declared the money in the safe as part of his assets when he was required to do so.
Furthermore, he managed to wangle himself a bank loan of £19,000 without formally applying for it and without having to pay anything back for 18 months. It’s clear, he wouldn’t have got the loan if he had not been Finance minister at the time. And using your position for personal gain is more or less the definition of corruption.

If he could do the job, you might turn a blind eye.
But look at the country.
The health service is an unmitigated disaster, kept afloat only by the incredible and largely unrewarded efforts of the frontline workers.
It is top heavy with overpaid administrators who couldn’t run the proverbial in the brewery.
Our road network is still in an horrendous state. For years, little bits of motorway and dual carriageway were built here and there. This was a) to facilitate local political and electoral need and b) to avoid the legal requirement to open such schemes up to tender from construction companies in Europe.
Currently, only two cities on the island of Ireland are linked by motorway/dual carriageway. And Belfast and Dublin are linked for ideological reasons, not infrastructural.
When roads are built, they’re built badly and with little concern for history, culture, heritage or archaeology.
The M50 is, quite simply, a joke and it will always be a joke. And it will become an even more ridiculous joke when the National Roads Authority - possibly the most inept body in the world - is given control of the Westlink toll bridge.
The National Roads Authority. That’s the body that was charged with building roads to bypass towns and villages and then refused to allow services along the new roads telling people they could go into the towns and villages.
It is the body charged with signposting Ireland. Honestly. Someone is actually in charge of that.
It is the body which believed a bramble hedge was sufficient barrier in the central median of a motorway.
It’s another joke.
The Department of Education can’t build sufficient schools.
The Department of Sport is paying for the building of Lansdowne Road, a stadium too small by half, having funked building a national stadium.
It is also at least partially responsible for the pay-for-pay debacle in t he GAA.
The Minister for Social Welfare can keep a straight face telling us that €300 a week is sufficient for pensioners, when his pay rise alone is almost twice that.
The Minister for Enterprise is watching jobs vanish.
The Minister for the Gaeltacht has created division in Dingle where there was none.
The Minister for Justice is presiding over a brutal gang war, a police service corrupt in parts and a system that sees fewer gardai on the streets now than there were in the sixties.
As for the ‘Green” Party ministers, it seems there is a direct relationship between the amount of money they’re paid and the abandonment of their principles.
And as for the ‘independents’ they have, largely, been bought.
The years of prosperity are over, and the only ones with anything to show at the end of it all, are politicians who received more than twenty pay rises, and the construction industry.
It’s an outrage. It’s a scandal. It’s a tragedy.
We still have the desperately poor. We still have in sufficient places for the intellectually disabled. We have virtually no facilities for those who wish to try and beat their addiction to drugs.
We have nothing.
So maybe, at the end of it all, it’s a pity we’re not in Africa.

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Profiles in Greed

CAN you remember the last time a politician in this country did something courageous?
As a rule, our politicians are opportunistic, selfish and small-minded.
They are guided entirely by political expediency, not by any moral imperative.
They build schools and hospitals and roads in places that will provide the greatest return electorally. Those with any kind of power pour money into their own constituencies to the detriment of other areas.
Our leaders - an inappropriate word if ever there was one - make deals, expedient and opportunistic deals, with people, regardless of who they are or what they have done or what they stand for. The likes of Beverley Flynn and Michael Lowry may be rehabilitated in Bertie Ahern’s mind. But that just goes to show what a nasty place that is.

When was the last time an Irish minister resigned, voluntarily, for doing or saying something wrong, for causing offence, for wasting money or just because he or she felt morally obliged to make a principled stand? (On that score, if Bertie had been in just about any other democracy in the world, he would have quit over his over signing blank cheques for Charlie Haughey when the dogs in the street were barking about his corruption. He would have walked once his dodgy dig-outs became public, he would have submitted his resignation over his mysterious ‘money in the mattress’ during his separation. But he wouldn’t have been there at all if he had had the manners to quit after suggesting that those who moaned about the economy should go off and commit suicide.)
Every move an Irish politician makes is inspired only by self-interest.
Since going into government (in the mistaken belief that the 500 or so in the Mansion House, who endorsed the decision to go into government represented the 86,000 voters who voted Green) John Gormley has been busy telling us what he cannot do rather than having the courage to actually do something.
He recently managed to outfudge his Fianna Fail colleagues when it came to explaining how he was spending tax payers’ money on his office and constituency workers. Power corrupts etc.
Our politicians have built roads and railways where they believe such schemes will win them votes. For years, little bits of dual carriageway littered the country, each one built to satisfy local political needs. One utterly bizarre stretch in Mayo, was even nicknamed the “Pee Flynn bypass.”
Wood Quay was destroyed because politicians feared the wrath of unions representing local authority workers, just as the M3 is now being built on a route recommended only by those who will benefit financially from its construction. Not one of the area’s elected representatives had or has the courage to put heritage ahead of self interest.
Some years ago, representatives of Irish politicians were given the “Profile in Courage Award,’ an accolade named after the book written by John F Kennedy, for their work on the peace process.
It has, before and since, been given to politicians who have made enormous sacrifices, who have lost their jobs - who have lost just about everything - because they put right before self-interest.
I cannot imagine it, ever again, being awarded to an Irish politician.
Sure, I can think of exceptions. I can think of Joe Higgins, I can think of Richard Boyd Barrett and a few others who, even if I don’t agree with everything they say and do, stick to their principles despite knowing that by doing so their are lessening their chances of getting elected. The Labour Party too, refused to prostitute itself after the general election which was the honourable, if not profitable, course.
I used to think to he Greens in the same way, but no more.
We now live in a country where Dail seats are passed on to brothers and sisters, widows and children as if they were a favourite old armchair or a wad of cash left in a will.
We live in a country where politicians are becoming less and less accountable, where the Freedom of Information Act has been watered down simply because it allowed people the freedom to get information.
We live in a country where politicians, presumably to compensate themselves for no longer being able to accept bribes and handouts, give themselves pay rise after pay rise.
We live in a country where new laws are brought in in jig-time to allow for the abolition of the very tribunals which are exposing Bertie Ahern’s duplicity and dishonesty.
It is a country where the prime minister believes a pay rise of more than the average industrial wage is not only justified, but merely a ‘token amount.’
So, just think about these words:
“In whatever arena of life one may meet the challenge of courage, whatever may be the sacrifices he faces if he follows his conscience – the loss of his friends, his fortune, his contentment, even the esteem of his fellow men – each man must decide for himself the course he will follow. The stories of past courage can define that ingredient – they can teach, they can offer hope, they can provide inspiration. But they cannot supply courage itself. For this each man must look into his own soul.”
John F. Kennedy, Profiles in Courage
Those words mean nothing to politicians in this country.
Instead, our politicians are greedy, grubby people.
And, yes, that is a moan.
And no, Taoiseach, I won’t go off and kill myself.

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Paddy Murray Is (not that) Unwell (he hopes) III

I’d love a pint. I really would. I am, as they say, gumming for one.
It’s always the same when I’m somewhere they don’t have pints.
And they don’t have pints in hospital. Not pints of Guinness, I mean. They do have pints. Of blood.
But it’s not quite the same thing, drinking through your arm.
So I’d love a creamy. A roaster. A pint of plain.
Not right now, not this second.
But I’d love to have one this evening. Or maybe two. Might even stretch to three.

Being ill, or a little bit ill, or not at all ill but with an annoying infection, I firmly believe in the restorative powers of pints. Specifically, pints of Guinness.
For years, you were handed a bottle of Guinness after donating blood in this country.
Women who gave birth were immediately given Guinness every day to build up their strength. Their children were, however, forced to wait years for the same, er, beneficial medicine.
I have no idea why such practices ended.
Economic reasons, no doubt. Some accountant figured out that by stopping the Guinness, they could buy more ledgers or pencil sharpeners or something.
Or maybe, Carlsberg or Heineken got the hump and demanded equal treatment. Silly, that. Lager, though, hasn’t got the same powers as Guinness.
I’m pretty sure that if the lady with the trolley came around today and asked us all if we wanted tea, coffee or Guinness, she would be returning to her kitchen with pots of cold tea and coffee.
I am also pretty sure that, after a couple of trips to the trolley, we patients would all be feeling a great deal better.
And even if hospital food is, well, hospital food, boy, wouldn’t we look forward to it if it was to be accompanied by a nice Merlot or a nice, round Cote de Rhone.
You may very well think I am obsessed with alcohol.
I am not.
I merely miss it.
I don’t miss it as much as I miss my partner or my child or my dog or my house or my bed at home or a decent cup of tea.
But it’s not here. They don’t encourage it in hospitals.
And I miss it.
It’s not that I think about it all the time.
This morning, for example, I was thinking again about what a good my idea to put each sick person into their own sterile pod.
I thought about that again when the lady who brought me my breakfast informed me that she felt ‘absolutely dreadful.’
Brilliant, I thought. She feels sick and she’s walking around a hospital handing out food to people who are trying to get better. Put her in a pod, I thought, and stop her from spreading her sickness.
And today I also thought about England reaching the final of the Rugby World Cup.
I thought, there’s a mediocre, ageing, average team in the world cup final.
Why?
Because they have passion and heart and determination. And they have been well prepared.
And our younger, more skilled and more fancied team dumped out in the qualifying round.
If we’d been properly prepared, we could have won the damned thing.
And then I was looking at the hung-over England fans and the hung-over former England player Matt Dawson on television talking about the joy of the England fans.
The best of luck to them.
There is a perfectly logical reason as to why there should be bars in hospitals.
I’m not talking here about The Dog and Duck or the King’s Arms.
Maybe The Doctor and Nurse or The Cut and Stitch or something.
But it would be strictly for patients only.
And admission would be by coloured wrist band so that certain patients, for whom a drink might be harmful, would be wearing a red wrist band and would not be admitted.
There might be, say, a green wrist band for someone allowed four pints and a blue one for someone allowed three, a yellow one for someone allowed two and a pink, yes, I think pink, for someone allowed one.
And it would only be Guinness.
And maybe some decent red wines.
I mean, the thing is supposed to be medicinal.
Of course, a mini bar in the room would solve the problem too...

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How Ireland Invented a New 'N' Word

You don’t hear the ‘n’ word being used these days, to describe people of a different colour.
The ‘n’ word. Nigger. A deeply and gratuitously and deliberately offensive word.
Those who use it nowadays display nothing but their own ignorance.

It is a word, which has, thank God, been consigned to history, a word despised by the civilsed, abhored by the decent and never spoken by those with a shred of respect for their fellow human beings.
So it is extraordinary, that one of Ireland’s most respected newspapers, and its national broadcasting service – I am talking about the Irish Times and RTE – have invented a new ‘n’ word which they have taken to using.
And this ‘n’ word is almost as insulting as its predecessor.
It litters conversations in Ireland.
It is used by those who would believe themselves to be part of the intelligentsia. It is used by politicians. It is used by leaders in almost every area of society.
It is a word, which indicates that we believe some of those in our society are different. It indicates that we believe ourselves to be, in some way, superior to others in our society.
It is a racist word.
We Irish know all about racism. When the people of Ireland first left its shores to seek better lives abroad, they were often greeted with signs reading: NO DOGS NO BLACKS NO IRISH.
They took on the lowliest of jobs, jobs nobody else wanted.
They were the subject of often pretty vicious jokes.
Right up to the end of the IRA’s hideous campaign of murder, the Irish in Britain were, in some places, vilified.
Paddies. Micks. Whatever.
The word now used in Ireland to discriminate against others may not sound as offensive as those or as ‘nigger.’
But it is.
And that word, the new ‘n’ word is ‘non-nationals.’
Let me explain why it is so nasty.
It is nasty because it is used only to describe those from Eastern Europe, Asia or Africa who have come to make their lives in Ireland.
We are told in a newspaper and on the radio “three non-nationals’ have been arrested for something or other.
We are told that the driver of a car involved in an accident is a non-national.
You know it is not an American to which they are referring.
You know it is not an Australian.
You know it is not a Norwegian.
You know it is not someone from England or Canada or Germany or Holland.
Because those we call Americans and Australians and Norwegians and English and Canadian and Dutch.
Non-national is reserved for Latvians and Romanians and Nigerians and Filipinos and Chinese and so on.
And it’s unpleasant.
And it’s insulting.
And it’s condescending.
And it’s wrong.
Because they are all nationals of their own countries. Some may very well be on their way to becoming Irish nationals.
It’s sad coming from a race of émigrés,
And I hope those who use the term, have the good grace to stop it.
Soon.

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The Rugby World Cup: Excitement and Fear

❍Max Brito: I wonder how he is doing

I AM seriously looking forward to the Rugby World Cup.
I look forward with, not a little, hope.
Ireland, for its size and population, manages to produce outstanding performances in many sports. Golf, for example. Or soccer where we managed to rise to eighth in the world in 1990. We’re pretty good at athetics. We have a good history in cycling. We almost rule the world of horse racing. We’re not bad at hockey. We’re top ten in cricket. We, er, box above our weight in boxing.
And, of course, there is rugby.
We’re goling into this world cup with a good chance. If we perform at our best, we can do very, very well. If we perform at our best and other teams, such as New Zealand and France, don’t perform at their best, we could actually win it.
But while I’m looking forward to the competition with a huge sense of expectation I also look forward with trepidation.

Because, like previous world cups, the 2007 tournament has thrown up some blindingly obvious and potentially dangerous mismatches.
Twelve years ago, Scotland beat the Ivory Coast 89-0. New Zealand beat Japan 145-17.
In 1999, New Zealand beat Italy 101-3
England beat Tonga 101-10.
In the last tournament, four years ago, Australia beat Namibia 142-0.
Apart altogether from the fact that routs such as these do nothing to encourage rugby in what are laughinly called ‘emerging nations,’ these are mismatches on the scale of putting a ballet dancer in the ring with a heavyweight boxer.
Rugby has, if anything, become more physical in the professional era.
In 1995, Ivory Coast winger Max Brito, was left tetraplegic as the result of a tackle. It seemed innocuous at the time. And there was certainly no intent.
But Max was playing for a country that rarely plays internationals and qualifies for world cups - not this one - not because they’re good, but because other teams are worse.
Maz received £1560,000 from the International Rugby Board’s insurance scheme at the time.
But soon, the memory of his injuries seemed to fade. A couple of years later, he was in deep depression, living with his parents and still, incredibly, watching rugby.
Max is the father of two children.
So far has his plight faded from the memory, that web searches turn up little about him now.
Wikipedia offers only a stub.
One Portuguese blog contains a short and innacurate piece about him.
ASouth African blog refers to the tragic game in which Max was crippled and then adds this: “The rest of the match was a non-event in the bigger scheme of things. Ivory Coast battled bravely while Tonga smashed and bashed their way to a 29-11 victory.”
Sad, that the result of the game is considered by someone to be “the bigger scheme of things.”
This world cup is throwing up more mismatches.
There is New Zealand and Portugal, France and Namibia, Ireland and Georgia, South Africa and Tonga, Australia and Japan.
The minnows will, likely as not, be eaten up. Morale will be, perhaps fatally, wounded, Young kids in those countries will turn their backs on rugby.
Hopefully, there will not be another Max Brito.
Hopefully, Max is alive and coping. I don’t know.
I wonder if the rugby authorities do.

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A little bit of China over here

❍Tara: Buried by the ignorant and the stupid

Welcome to a little bit of China.
It’s right here on the west coast of Europe.
It is run by a man who has expressed his undying admiration for the Chinese way of doing things.
And like the modern day China, nothing, not a single thing is to be put in the way of business doing business.
Not once has the government of this place stepped in on the side of the little man. It’s always to on the side of business.
Whatever the rights and wrongs, from a business point of view, of the Aer Lingus decision to abandon it’s Shannon to Heathrow service - in the name of profit - it demonstrated, yet again, the government’s disdain for ordinary people.

The leader of this country has said how much he would love to be able to undertake the development of infrastructure the Chinese way. “Up and over,” were the words he used.
No attempt to take on board the worries, concerns or fears of the people. Development by decree.
Of course, every arm of the state apparatus has been put in place by the government. And so, regardless of what appears on paper to be a just and fair system, every appeal, every concern, every fear of the people, is dismissed out of hand.
Roads are built by a state agency, working hand in hand with, you’ve guessed it, business.
The local authorities back business against people.
The courts rule in favour of business.
The planning appeals board does the same.
Because in this Chinese outpost, the people don’t matter. Only business does.
Those who get in the way of business, are summarily dismissed. They are described as 'anti-progress' and worse.
They are portrayed as enemies.
You will have gathered by now, that this place is - at least currently - called Ireland.
It is a place where once it was debated whether it should be closed to Berlin or Boston. Well, Beijing has been the choice.
Our leader can barely contain his admiration for the country which massacred students at Tiananmen Square, a country which pollutes the atmosphere without a care for the consequences. Ireland is following suit on the latter, but not yet the former.
Of course, it is not just the Chinese who are admired by our leader.
He likes the warmonger George Bush too, regardless of what he does or where.
Why?
He’s good for business.
Some politician not too long ago, had the gall to suggest twinning Dublin with Beijing.
What not Auschwitz?
Back here, in this little bit of China, they’re still destroying Tara in the name of business.
No railway, because you don’t build retail parks, hotels and big DIY stores along railway lines.
And no honesty to admit that the road got priority over the railway because it will open up land, sacred land, for development.
With an utterly inept Heritage Minister in charge, it is likely they will continue apace to bury forever, 5,000 years of history so someone somewhere can make money..
What kind of people are there in government, local authorities, planning boards, legal profession and business, that would boast - as they do - of doing such a thing?
Certainly, it is not a surprise that a prime minister who takes large sums of cash off people he hardly knows, would do so.
But to ignore the appeals of people from all over the world? To spit on the views of the majority of people in Ireland? To snub international archaeologists? To offer two fingers to the Europe that actually built Ireland?
You would have to be an ignoramus. You would have to be a boor. You would have to be a Philistine and an fool.
Sadly, that’s what we have in charge.

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None Of The Above

❍The Viking site at Dublin's Wood Quay, destroyed by ignorant politicans

MY late mother was of the view that, when it came to voting in an election, there should be, at the bottom of the ballot paper, a box which you could tick called: None Of The Above.
If None Of The Above was then duly elected, the politicians would have to have another go at producing a candidate people actually wanted.
And those who failed in the first election would be forever barred from standing again.
I mention this brilliant idea because I have come to a conclusion about politicians, and not just those in Ireland, politicians everywhere.
They do only two things:
1) they create problems
2) they fail to solve them.
Of course, problems are the bread and butter of politics. When problems arise, they permit politicians to blather on, to indulge in double-speak and, betimes, triple and quadruple speak.
It permits them to go on television and radio and to give newspaper interviews which, they believe, give the impression they’re doing something when, actually, ordinary people realise they are blathering on, indulging in double-speak and, betimes, triple and quadruple speak.

Unfortunate soldiers may fight wars. But it is politicians who cause them and start them.
Factories close, jobs are lost, homes are repossessed, misery ensues and politicians talk and rabbit on. Sometimes, they even set up committees or working groups or task forces.
But they don’t actually do anything.
Floods devastate an area. And politicians rush to the cameras to tell everyone they will now do what they should have done years ago. And they think we’re grateful.
The spend money, our money, on big projects. But very often, if not always, the projects are designed, not to benefit people, but to help get the very same politicians re-elected.
They use our money to hire ‘advisors’ and ‘consultants’ who, on the surface of it, appear to be giving sound advice on national issues but who, when you look at it more closely, are – yet again – employed solely to increase the popularity of the politicians, to hone their image and get them re-elected.
Culture and politics are alien to each other.
They may attend and opera and nod off, they may even endure the first night of a play (never the second. The cameras aren’t there for the second) if they think it will improve their image.
But, right here in Ireland, it was politicians who ordered the destruction of Wood Quay (pictured above, during its destruction) It was the finest example of a first millennium Viking town in the world. I know, I was there, and I saw the houses and streets that were bulldozed to make way for a hideous office block which serves the dual purpose of burying the site under concrete and blocking the view of Christ Church from the quays.
Currently, they are destroying Tara for a motorway, which may very well be obsolete in less than 50 years.
They could have built a more efficient railway instead.
But developers don’t like railways. Developers don’t build huge DIY stores alongside railways. They don’t open retail parks along railways.
And that’s another thing politicians are not. Honest.
They won’t admit they chose a road instead of a railway from Dublin through County Meath, because it will open up land for development. They lied about it, and they continue to lie about it as the destruction, under a lame duck Green heritage minister, continues apace.
The big crisis in Ireland now is the forthcoming withdrawal, by Aer Lingus, of its services from Shannon to Heathrow.
Most politicians are in hiding.
Some local yokels are making noise.
But the government politicians who have surfaced – they managed to get to fund raisers at Galway Races in huge numbers, but have disappeared at the first sign of trouble – are engaging in the aforementioned double, treble and quadruple speak.
Democracy is a good idea in principle.
There is, likely as not, no better alternative.
But why is it, when it comes to election time, the choice presented to us is between one gobshite and another?
I would love if someday, some brave politician took up my late mother’s idea which might, ultimately, get some smart, honest, cultured people elected.
Sadly, as with culture, bravery and politics are alien to each other too.
Anyone know any half decent benign dictators who are looking for work?

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Pride turns to shame

IT is increasingly difficult to be proud of Ireland, proud to be Irish.
Like most of my countrymen, I am patriotic if not nationalistic. And, when I travel abroad in particular, I like to tell people what a wonderful country this is.
No more.
Even when Ireland was poor, there were many reasons to be proud.
During the 1980s, when the country and its people were on their knees, we were proud.
(Of course, we didn’t know then, that our Prime Minister, Charles Haughey, was as corrupt as it is possible to be and that he would leave a legacy of corruption.)
We enjoyed Barry McGuigan winning his world boxing title, the success of Stephen Roche and Sean Kelly in the cycling world, the relative success of our rugby and soccer players. We loved Johnny Logan winning Eurovision, the embryonic careers of the boys in U2, Phil Lynott’s rocking hits and so on.

Now, our sports men and women are as successful as ever. Our rugby players had a fantastic season, things are looking up for our soccer players, our athletes are winning medals - even our cricketers are doing well.
U2 is still the biggest band in the world. But now we can add wonderful talents like Republic of Loose, Fionn Regan, Damien Rice and so many others.
Our actors are on the world stage. Our Irish dancers are earning millions all over the world. Our artists are sought after.
So much to be proud of.
But...
❏ Today, this country is deporting a Nigerian woman and her twins, one of whom suffers from autism.
There is no treatment, no special school, nothing for autistic children in Nigeria.
Despite our wealth, there's not much in Ireland.
But there's something. But now, little Great Agbonlahor won't even get than.
St Patrick, they say, brought Christianity to Ireland. This government is deporting it with little Great.
❏ We are a country of emigrants which frowns on immigrants. We turf them out if they come to Ireland as economic refugees, precisely the way millions of Irish arrived in countries all over the world.
❏ We spend millions on politicians’ vanity projects - gyms in the Dail, illegal car parks on Leinster Lawn - and yet refuse to meet our commitments to the poor of the world.
❏ We trample over our heritage at Tara for electoral gain and to satisfy the construction industry. Opening the rail line was the sensible option, the planet-friendly option. But of course, that wouldn’t have opened up land for development, for DIY stores, retail parks and hotels, the fate that awaits Tara, thanks to our feeble ‘Green’ heritage minister.
❏ Our politicians have given themselves 22 pay rises in the past ten years whilst the poor of our country have, in relative terms, received only crumbs.
❏ Corruption is still rife. If you don’t think so, just look around the country at over-development, at the places where builders have been given permission to build despite the infrastructure being utterly unable to cope.
❏ We have a government led by a party whose members feel far more comfortable in the company of wealthy builders than they do in the company of the disadvantaged, for whom they are supposed to care.
❏ We have wealth. But we spend it on construction while at the same time, fighting in the courts, the parents of autistic children who seek only what care they should be getting in a rich, civilised country.
❏ We kow-tow to the Americans caring not a whit what prisoners they bring through Shannon, what troops pass through on their way to kill or be killed.
❏ We have ministers constantly telling us what they can’t do, having spent an election campaign telling us all they were going to do.
❏ We have a Taoiseach who, to his utter shame, took handouts, massive handouts from friends and strangers and never offered to pay them back. Worse still, he keeps changing his story about amounts, currencies and dates.
And shamefully, most people seem to adopt the “I’m all right Jack” attitude to it all.
We now live in an Ireland where builders are more important than the poor, roads are more important than schools, construction is more important than the climate change and power and wealth are more important than almost anything.
Which is why pride has turned to shame.

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