ENDA AND THE EXIT

So, I was asked to write the televised address to the nation that you’ll all be watching on Sunday. Enda’s rehearsing it off the teleprompter right now. Here’s what you can expect:

What a week it has been, not just for Ireland but the world. We lost a truly historical figure. As I wrote in the book of condolences - ‘Noble savage Simba, you did not go gently into that good night for you’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din’. The ‘good night’ and ‘Gunga Din’ bits are quotes from literature that I thought it statesman like to include, although I’m not sure they have books over there. Either way, Simba is gone now. Yes, Simba is gone but such is the circle of life that we not only say adieu to good things but bad things also. Tonight I can happily tell you all, all of you in your homes and on the streets of Ireland and those laying bereft in the gutter and at the bottom of remote lonely lakes, that the time has come for us to bid adieu to the bailout.

Now I know it wasn’t easy and has been quite the test, not just for you, the people of this nation, but for the Fine Gael party. Difficult and unpopular decisions had to be made but the party has gotten through this, maintaining healthy support from the populace and, you know, perhaps, just maybe, the populace itself will also make it through these times with some semblance of quality of life. Who knows? I wouldn’t count on it but stranger things have certainly happened so we can hope and what are we without hope? I will tell you what we are without hope. Without hope we are Luke Ming Flanagan and Clare Daly. Jaysus, who’d want to be either of them yokes? (chuckle gently to yourself here Enda)

(pause)

(reassume the serious expression and proceed) The important thing is that we made it. Fine Gael made it and is looking at another term in office under my stewardship. I saw us right. They doubted me, Lucinda, Leo, Coveney, all the young bucks, Bruton’s babies, but I saw us through. As would be expected of any great leader, I strode forward, I stood proud, I put my hand up and I asked mammy Merkel - ‘an bhfuil cead agam dul go dtí an markets’ and mammy said yes. Yes we can. To quote another marvellous black fella - ‘is feidir linn’. Do you member the uplifting afternoon he spent with us in Dublin? Him and Jedward and Amy Huberman. Was Amy Huberman there? She probably was. It was lovely wasn’t it? I had a lovely time myself and there’ll be more lovely times ahead too. That I guarantee. Lovely times ahead, for me certainly and perhaps even for some of you. Just sit tight and wait and see. You never know. In the heel of the hunt, whether there are lovely times ahead for you or not is neither here nor there. Small tragedies are not recorded by history but large triumphs are and the Fine Gael party has certainly triumphed. We are exiting the bailout! Do you know what that means? Do you realise the ramifications? I don’t. I admit that. But I do know that it sounds good and so did ‘is feidir linn’ and you all bought into that remember? Jesus, yeah, you did. Unbelievable. To be perfectly honest, I really thought this job would be a lot tougher than it is.

Anyway, to conclude. Personally, and on behalf of the Fine Gael party, I would like to thank you, the Irish people, the citizenry of this nation, for the support, stoicism, patience, timidity and astonishing gullibility you have exhibited over the course of this difficult period. Fine Gael (now incorporating Labour), couldn’t have pulled this off without your dutiful compliance and patriotic lassitude. Go raibh maith agaibh. 

I now return you to the usual programming. Room To Improve should be on. Do you like that? Fionnuala loves it. I rarely get the chance to see much television myself. Those state assets don't sell themselves you know.

Turn Off the News Maura, it’s Giving Me An Awful Case of Nerves

(Pictured above: myself in happier times. ‘We all partied’.)

Ah sure I’m as much to blame as anyone. All flaithiúlacht like P.Diddy I was. You were too. You were though. Do you remember the time we sent that round robin to the lads telling them to guarantee Anglo? ‘It’ll be a right laugh’ is what you said if I remember correctly. We were in the limo. Living it large. Lil’ Kim was sitting on your lap, holding her compact mirror up to your greedy line snorting snout. Your eyeballs were all glassy and you said ‘hey, why not text them assholes and get them to cover Anglo’. Jean Claude was there too. He thought it was a gas idea. We used his mobile to send the text. Remember? Don’t deny it. Don’t go all butter wouldn’t melt. You can’t deny it. I remember it coz it was the same night we flew your jet to Italy and joined Silvio and his RAI girls for a Bunga-Bunga session. Jaysus, I was sick as a dog when I remembered what we’d done the next day. I’m sick as a dog now coz we’ll have to cough up the cash. It’s only fair though. It’s not like theft. It’s not as if some confidence trickster bankrupted us is it? It’s not like some stitch up that should be passionately resisted lest future generations look back at us and think ‘what a bunch of treasonable shitebags?’ It’s not like we can really do anymore than sit around on our holes indoors going ‘turn off the news Maura, it’s giving me an awful case of nerves’. I mean what do you want to do about it? Stomp up and down the street protesting against ourselves? We’re as much to blame as anyone. Aren’t we though? AREN’T WE?

THE BROTHER’S FAVOURITE BAND:

‘Stop apologising for the things you never done
Time is short and life is cruel
but it's up to us to change this town called Malice.’


COMING SOON: CRAP MAN VERSES THE IVF IN BANANANA LAND!

YOUR NATION, WHAT YOU CAN DO IN 6 STEPS:

(above: a loyal public servant tightens his belt.)

YOU have ruined everything for everyone you Irish FOOL. It was no one else it was just you. Just you! You! You Irish fool! As usual, THERE IS NO OTHER OPTION than to do the following RIGHT NOW otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! It’s a bit like the bank guarantee you had to pass RIGHT NOW otherwise you would have been DONE FOR in some way FOREVER like in the Famine! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE?

STEP 1: Sell any patio furniture or old 2000AD annuals or whatever you have and send the money to Olli Rehn. If you have no patio furniture or old 2000AD annuals or don’t even have a patio or have any old comics or anything you must leave the country and your family and your friends. Otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE? Do it RIGHT NOW!

STEP 2: Leave rich people alone. You are making them nervous. They have done enough for you. They can do no more. If you expect of them they might leave the country like you should. Leave the rich alone. Otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE? Do it RIGHT NOW!

STEP 3: Do not expect a choice. You made your choice. There are no more choices. Choosing takes time and you’ve had your time. You have no more time. Choice and time are your enemies. Choice and time will destroy you. Forget about choice and time. Otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE? Do it RIGHT NOW!

STEP 4: Lighten the nation’s load. Kill a poor person or a sick person. Take any loose change from their pockets and post it to Olli Rehn. Otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE? Do it RIGHT NOW!

STEP 5: Put your children on the game. Put them out on the road now. Dress them up like the MINI POPS and put them ON THE ROAD for Olli Rehn! Otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE? Do it RIGHT NOW!

STEP 6: Take down your hands. Stop defending yourself. Stop shrieking and writhing! Shut up. We said shut up. Who do you think you are? Without us you are NOTHING! You are owed NO EXPLANATIONS! Shut up. Shut your fucking face and give Mr. Olli Rehn your patio furniture, 2000ADs and tarted up Mini Pop kids. Otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE? Do it RIGHT NOW!

That is all! None of the above is reversible. There is No Other Way! The alternative is worse. It does not bear thinking about. You are NOT being rushed, bullied or terrorised. I repeat, YOU ARE NOT BEING RUSHED, BULLIED OR TERRORISED! If you say you are being bullied, rushed or terrorised you WILL be BULLIED, RUSHED and TERRORISED!

We are your friends. We stand alongside you. Now, do the above. Do it RIGHT NOW! Otherwise you will be DONE FOR in some way FOREVER! DO YOU REMEMBER THE FAMINE?

DON’T HATE DA PLAYAH HATE DA GAME or DA E.U. IS OUR BIAAAAATCH NOW!

Brian (C-Dogg) Cowen is Da Man! Ireland’s O.G.! The playah of playahs is starin’ down the world! It’s C-Dogg’s game now Fritz and you don’t stand a chance.

Fritz waits in the lobby of the Central Bank. Nervous. Clutching a briefcase of cash in both hands.

D4 is standing outside. Patriots one n’ all. Wrap the green flag ‘round ‘em boys. The wailing and keening can be heard all over the globe.

‘I’m loik sooo glad Pearse didn’t live to see this’.

‘We’re going to have to sell one of the cars.’

‘I’m probably never going to vote for them again’ says a furious Sandymount resident, Molotov cocktail in hand (or maybe it’s just a cocktail).

A sudden hush falls. The new sheriff shuffles into town. Straight from the IMF’s secret laboratory. It’s Henry Kissinger/Uncle Fester genetic mash-up: Ajai Chopra. It’s a lonely old job. Like being an executioner. He inspects the gallows. He pulls on the rope. He’s not sure if it can take the weight. He heads upstairs to look at the books. C-Dogg chuckles.

‘Heh, them books is as cooked as McDaid’s meth? Fool ain’t gonna find sheeeeeet.’

C-Dogg has emptied the national till. Your till is next Fritz. You’re the one told us to rescue them Anglo biaaaatches. We coulda just put a cap in their asses but you said, ‘hey, let ‘em be’. Well, we got this here grenade now Fritz and we’ve taken out the pin. We go, you go. So put the briefcase on the table, f**k the repayments, and get yo sorry crackah ass on the next flight back to lederhosen land.

Our plan is working! We’ve turned the corner! I COMMEND THIS BULLSHIT TO THE HOUSE!

MOTHER IRELAND MURDERED!

Here’s what you do Suds, you just go in there and empty the safe.

But I don’t wanna steal from my Momma Mr. Goldman.

I’m your Momma now Suds.

But, . . .what if she wakes up and sees me?

You’ll know what to do Suds.

Oh jeez Mr. Goldman, I don’t wanna hurt my own Momma.

I’m your Momma now Suds.

What if someone suspects? It’s kinda obvious Mr. Goldman.

Ah, just sweet talk ‘em. You’re good at that Suds, it’s why we took you under our wing.

But what’ll I say?

I dunno, just start banging on about the public sector or some shit.

I feel real bad about this Mr. Goldman. Momma was real nice to me. Raised me real good and sent me to a fine school, fed me proper and. . .

How many times I gotta tell ya Suds? I’m your Momma now.
Linky: JOINING THE DOTS!