HOME FOR SOCIETY'S FAILURES

A private home for the relics of the establishment. They wander the corridors shouting out half-remembered things and attempting to adhere to protocols from days gone. Doddery TDs roar for imaginary Ceann Comhairles. Their minds suspended in battles yesteryear, they emit non sequiturs. 'Don't interrupt me, I didn't interrupt you,' they protest to no one in particular about nothing in particular. Senility clutches to the remnants of instinct. It's an attempt to make sense of what never made sense.

A spoon is raised to Sir Anthony's gaping mouth. The most ancient of them all. Vacant. The train has left the station and the stop long since terminated. The comparatively sprightly Denis giggles and hides Sir Anthony's slippers. Then Denis can't remember where he hid the slippers or even that he hid them at all, so he looks for the slippers so he can hide them again and wails when he can't find them. His memories redacted, he can only be calmed by a little treat. Lobster bisque or something like that. Then he scurries to the corner and whispers legal threats into the ear of a husk that was once a leading journalist. The husk weeps and pleads for mercy.

Undead ex-ministers cut deals with dementia afflicted tycoons. Brown envelops are exchanged but there's only shit in them. Speaking of shit, along come Joan and Enda, collecting water charges with their bedpans. Buttons are dropped in with a clinking sound and they shuffle on, droning about the future of the nation and muttering some vague legislation.

There's a large fence with snipers all around. Whether the guns are there to keep those seeking vengeance out or keep those who killed the future in, no one is quite sure. Perhaps it's a bit of both. The situation is being contained, that's all that matters. That's all that ever mattered. Actually dealing with situations was never the aim. It was all just a perpetual crisis management game, with some money made on the side. The profits of chaos for those presiding over that chaos. They felt it their due. 'You'd do the same,' was their internal excuse and cognitive guilt inhibitor.

Their time long passed, their power in the past, they are now put out to pasture. Rendered harmless and bovine, they await slaughter. Night falls and along comes the Reaper. A soul is collected and another shameful cadaver is left for inclusion in the annals of this home for society's failures.

JOAN IS GAS

Bouncy Oireachtas Report

I was watching Oireachtas Report the other day and was surprised to see that they’ve replaced the Dail chamber with a bouncy castle. Cut backs I suppose. All the TDs had to take off their shoes before they got inside.

Higgins and Ming were mad into it, doing flips and all that while the Ceann Comhairle attempted to bring them to order and stay on his feet at the same time.

The Sinn Fein crowd were playing a bit rough I thought. There was some shoving and Joan Burton started crying when they surrounded her and pushed her about. ‘Those bully boy tactics won’t work down here in our bouncy castles’, I said aloud to the screen.

And you should have seen Varadker. He must have eaten too much candy floss or something because he was bouncing around like a mad yoke for a while but then got sick everywhere and had to be taken home by his mammy. Adams called him a poof.

It makes for strange viewing but you get used to it after a while and it’s business as usual really.

Now, click the link below to be exposed to a never to be repeated failed multi-media experimental extravaganza:
CRAPMAN ISSUED 18

JOAN BURTON - STRAIGHT TALKING!

Excuse me, excuse me, can I just say that if we don’t let the bill through it won’t exist and, let me be clear on this, we oppose the bill but if it doesn’t exist how do we oppose it? Seriously now, just, just stop interrupting, stop interrupting me and listen, now, can I just say that there are things, things that must be done in order to give back the loan we need to borrow because of things that quite simply must be done and things and let me be clear on this because I didn’t just say that and you can roll the tape back if you want and stop interrupting me because I am a woman and can think for myself like a centrist social democrat and things that must be done and the bill stop interrupting me. Can I just say that the first thing Brian Lenihan has to realise is that things. Excuse me, stop interrupting! Fianna Fáil is now a minority government and the return of mass-emigration is a telling thing that tells of things and I used to live in Africa and I have seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I've watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain and it does not command sufficient support in the Dáil to dictate the order of business. Stop interrupting me! STOP INTERRUPTING ME! We’re not stalling. Can I just say that it is clear that the normal timetable ends at the end of March. I already brought it back to the beginning of March so the timetable is ending before it ends and where did I put my diving flippers? STOP! INTERRUPTING! ME! Can I just say that when I was a little boy I nursed a wounded seagull back to health like Trotsky or Mao wouldn’t but stop interrupting me because I am a woman and a budgetary crisis was brought on by the disastrous economic policy that followed so excuse me but do you want an answer to the question or do you just want to harangue me dear minister deputy mister minister MEPship thank you mister minister mister man mister maaaaan and I will not open the pod bay doors Dave so stop interrupting me, STOP INTERRUPTING ME! And can I just say that I did not just say that and you can say that I did say that and you can roll the tape back and even if I did say that can I just say that I didn’t because we are in the business of creating solutions to the people and solutions so wounded seagull diving flipper spice burger snack box Large Hadron Collider two onion rings and a can of Lilt to table nine please deputy. Deputy? Deputy? You used to be called Joe and STOP INTERRUPTING ME! And can I just say that I didn’t just say that. Please God, tell me I didn’t just say that!