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.

FUGGER 400!

Health care cuts will incentivise the sick to get better. Facilitating the culture of illness is unfair on the tax payer. Malingering is no longer an option. Get up from your beds and show some self respect. I’m well. I like being well. It’s good to be well. Wouldn’t you like to be well? Let’s fight the infirmity trap! Don’t think about giving up! Quitting isn’t an option! We’re scrapping the body bag allowance so keep breathing! Keep the blood flowing! Let’s keep those hearts beating! Let’s Go Ireland! We’re turning the corner again! We’re back on track! One cochlear implant is more than enough! No more needless expenditure! Reform! Probity! Rugby! Amy Huberman! New shoes! Is Féidir Linn car stickers! This is Fugger’s 400^th post! Can I have a job in public relations?

 

ICTU SIPTU FUKU

(pictured – Is that Victor Jara?)

 

NO WAY! WE WON'T PAY! (well actually we will, all the same, anyway). 

Brother Number One Begg sat there on the committee of the Central Bank, presiding over the auditing of Anglo and the lads. 

We won't mention that because we don't even know - we just got out on the streets and Mundy did a song. We had a great time and all sang along. 

We let off steam and went home again and there'll be no national strike or anything like that because, fundamentally and absolutely, we're all full of crap. 

We don't really care about anything but our wage so if you don't go there we'll probably vote yous in again –
F fuckin F or F fuckin G or L fuckin A fuckin B. The alternatives to those three are fuckin comedy. 

So cut what you like, just don't cut me!
With a hey diddle dong and a fiddle dee dee.
ICTU SIPTU FUKU - Hee Hee Hee!

George Lee State Funeral

George Lee TD (2009 - 2010)

George Lee’s state funeral took place today. People who compulsively write to the Irish Times and the middleclass burghers of Dundrum solemnly lined the streets as the cortège passed by the ‘Town Centre’*. The procession then turned up the Kilmacud road, travelled on to Stillorgan before pausing a while in Donnybrook so Mark Little could say a few words on ‘dedication’ and ‘prescience’. ‘He was our Cassandra, our Obama, our latter day Collins on the battlefield of economics but he was taken from us. Like ‘the Big Fellow’ was, like Obama undoubtedly will be, George Lee was taken from us too soon, . . .too soon,’ said Mark before breaking down. ‘Too soon, too soon’, echoed those gathered in a plaintive refrain. ‘Why did he have to go? He’d have brought change. He was on the telly for God’s sake’, sobbed Mark before finding consolation in the embrace of an equally distraught Sharon Ni Bheolain. Also overcome with emotion, Olivia O’Leary darted from the crowd. Clutching George’s vestments, O’Leary collapsed onto the roadside wailing. She was then joined by Miriam O’Callaghan, Bryan Dobson, a metrosexual that presents The Den, Twink and someone off The Clinic. Combined, these garment grasping grovelling mourners made for an emotionally wrought tableaux worthy of Caravaggio.

The proceedings concluded with George arising from the back of the hearse, waving a final farewell to the assembled throng and ascending through the gates of Montrose. Amen.

(*now a subsidiary of Community Hubs TM: . . .Because We’re Watching You!)