Do you remember the time we kidnapped
that millionaire's kid and it took you ages to write the ransom note
because you thought it had to rhyme? You're some thick. And you kept
calling it a ramson note too didn't you? You did. You thick.
And then you kidnapped yourself,
remember that? You kidnapped yourself and sent a 'ramson' note to
yourself demanding that you send all the cash you have to yourself to
get yourself back. You thought that if you paid yourself all the cash
you had to get yourself back you'd double your money. Jesus God in
Heaven, you're an unbelievable simpleton.
And do you remember that time we were
planning to burgle a house and you said we
should burgle my house because I had loads of nice stuff?
Unbelievable. You even told me when not to be in to make sure we
didn't get caught. You complete dope.
And then there was the time we robbed
that bank and after they handed over the money you immediately tried
to open an account with the bank to put the money in. Remember that? You
said it wouldn't be safe walking home with that amount on us. 'What
if we're mugged?' you asked. 'There's loads of criminals around these
days,' you said. 'Even we're criminals,' you pointed out. Jesus Lord
MacFuck.
Then there was your counterfeit money
scam but instead of using forgeries you used real money because, as
you actually said yourself, 'it's more realistic'. Remember that?
Remember how pleased you were with yourself for coming up with that
one? And you said your favourite part of the plan was that you
couldn't get caught because you weren't doing anything wrong. I was
lost for words that time, absolutely lost for words. It reminded me
of the pyramid scheme you set up with you as the only member.
Remember that one? You said you couldn't lose.
Honest to God, how you ever got to hold
a ministerial position I'll never know.
I’m a great admirer of Paul Williams. I wish I was more like him. A stand up guy. Dublin’s Gary Cooper. Wears a suit to work. Trainers and jeans at home. Listens to Dido in the car. Hates scumbags. SCUMBAGS! I really enjoyed his film about the Shell to Sea crowd. It was called Satan Walks Amongst Us. Great stuff. Those campaigners are total eccentrics and, as Paul points out, the letter ‘e’ is in the word ‘eccentrics’ and the letter ‘e’ is also in the word ‘evil’. Paul rests his case. SCUMBAGS! It is also no coincidence that the letters ‘I’, ‘R’ and ‘A’ all appear in the name Ken Saro Wiwa. Or maybe it is a coincidence but even if it is a coincidence it’s probably not. Paul rests his case. SCUMBAGS! Paul needs a stiff drink after work. He gets maudlin thinking about all the scumbags he has to put up with. SCUMBAGS! He listens to the song Why by Annie Lennox. Annie Lennox is almost as good as Dido. He listens to Dido in the car. SCUMBAGS! I have all Paul’s books. They are a great read. I have Limerick: Scumbag Town, I have Paul Versus the Scumbags, I have Paul’s Scumbag Adventure, I have Valley of the Scumbags, I have The Scumbags that Time Forgot, I have Dracula: Lord of the Scumbags and I have Destroy All Scumbags. SCUMBAGS! He listens to Dido in the car. Paul likes the taste of Chili Con Carne. He drinks four cups of coffee a day and when he was a child his favourite TV show was The High Chaparral. He once saw Dire Straits playing in the RDS. Great gig. He’s never seen Dido though. He listens to Dido in the car. SCUMBAGS!
Here is my proposal going forward: legalise everything and abolish law enforcement. Shocked? Don’t be. Let me explain:
With the abolition of law enforcement, anyone seeking protection from theft or physical harm will be compelled to hire a private security firm, thereby obtaining a quality of protection that exceeds the current norm (competitiveness from other firms will encouragize the maintenance of standards going forward - unlike the sloppy state run system we currently endure).
The legalisation of violent crime (let’s face it, most other forms of crime are effectively legal so we’re talking knackers here) will enabalize those who lack the funds to hire a security firm to generate the revenue to do so. In short: you have no money for a bodyguard to protect you from muggers/thieves/kidnappers therefore you go mugging/thieving/kidnapping until you have made enough money to hire a bodyguard. Hence, crime creates the market for crime prevention which in turn is paid for by crime. The snake eats its own tail. The books balance. Harmony is attained.
By embracing the violent crime sector into the fiscal food-chain we also create a range of new market opportunities. Cosmetic surgeons are currently suffering because people can’t afford to get comedy breasts anymore. Under my proposed system, the cosmetic surgery market would be inundated with requests for post-violent assault reconstructive procedures. Violent crime (I keep using the term ‘crime’ but such activities would of course no longer be ‘crimes’ per-se) would also create markets for bullet proof jackets, homes and automobiles not to mention microchip tag insertion procedures that will enable loved ones to find your body no matter how remote the ditch it is eventually dumped in.
Ideally, protection against violent assault should be just that, protection, and not prevention. The market does not solve problems but rather copes with them. To actually solve a problem upon which your livelihood is based is to make yourself redundant, which would make you poor and that would be silly.
Now, the bed-wetters out there will moan about how my proposed system affects quality of life but that whole ‘quality of life’ thing is getting a bit tired. It’s exactly what they said about the privatisation of health and that works perfectly. Besides, since when has ‘quality of life’ been mankind’s ultimate aim? Never, that’s since when. Mankind has reached this evolutionary stage for one purpose and one purpose only, Harmonisation of the Market. If ‘quality of life’ is to be compromised in the process of market harmonisation then so be it. Besides, when I consider ‘quality of life’, I quite fancy where my proposal might eventually take us. I see an exciting kind of futuristic feudal system (the feudal way of life being the one to which mankind is inherently drawn) where we compete for resources in thrilling pitch battles that involve hired soldiers of fortune shooting at each other from dune buggies and/or engaging each other with samurai swords as they rollerblade into the jaws of death. Vehicles will overturn and spectacularly explode causing their occupants to somersault through the air and then land with a ‘Kathunk’, impaled upon spiked railings. Needless to say, many of these soldiers of fortune will be hot women donned in scant post-apocalyptic attire. These warrior women will shriek wildly as they swing chains above their heads, leap from rooftops onto passing battle-trucks and cut the driver’s throat without a moment’s hesitation, their lust for carnage causing their beautiful wild eyes to roll in their heads as they lick the blood from their daggers, climb from the cabin, jump onto another racing vehicle and do the same to the next driver. The conflict ends and they are victorious. They prowl the debris, regarding the corpses and body parts of their vanquished foes as satiated panthers regard their slaughtered prey. Their athletic physiques perspiring, glistening, streaked with blood and powdered by dust. Have them stripped and washed and brought to my quarters AT ONCE! This is the free-market dream going forward. Who’s with me?
