FANNY
MERCHANT
There
are many vulgar phrases used to describe the private parts of the
fairer sex. It'd be quite fun to list them here but perhaps I'll
leave that for another day. Alongside those unsavoury, descriptive
terms lie more socially acceptable names. Muff, that's a nice one,
wholly inoffensive and even a bit cute if I do say so myself. Fanny?
Hmm, tis a bit dated now really, nobody calls it that anymore. Nobody
that is apart from Senator David Norris. Norris has always been a bit
of a windbag, anyone that sat through the presidency debates of 2011
could tell you that. But he seemed harmless enough, until now.
Coming
in the wake of another Daíl scandal - the now infamous 'lapgate' –
Norris' outburst was the last thing the government needed. More to
the point it was the last thing he needed. His reputation has always
been built upon shaky foundations, the country as a whole got to know
him better during his campaign for office and the majority did not
like what they saw. Furthermore, as one of the few openly gay
politicians in this country, he faces a higher level of scrutiny that
your average member of Daíl Eireann. So it wasn't really in his best
interests to launch a sexist tirade in the direction of Regina
Doherty.
What
does it say about the 'lad culture' in our government when even a gay
man feels he can have a pop at one of the horrendously outnumbered
women? True being homosexual doesn't automatically instill Norris with
a better understanding of how women feel, but it does allow him to
empathise with their plight as the clear minority in the Daíl. He
must surely have faced the same kind of prejudice during his rise to
prominence, and yet here he is dealing in petty insults and smutty
innuendo. However I'm not sure what's worse, his complete and utter
ignorance, or his use of a phrase that went out of fashion years ago.
OOH
AAH
We
Irish are a cynical bunch, not for us yearly honours and the endless,
meaningless letters after your name. No, if you wish to gain our
respect you must earn it. You could say we're a nation of begrudgers.
So becoming a national treasure in this country is quite the feat.
Very few people reach this esteemed level of admiration, and even
those that do are invariably loathed within months of doing so. Off
the top of my head I would say that currently there are but a handful
of national treasures in this country; Katie Taylor, Ray D'Arcy,
Brendan Gleeson and Gay Byrne. Everybody likes those people, don't
they?
But
there is man whose popularity outstrips even that of Gaybo. This is a
man who is loved by every man, woman and child the length and breadth
of the Emerald Isle. And the crazy thing is he's long since retired
from his profession and only comes to our attention when he's done
something bad. But still we love him. And why wouldn't we? Sure isn't
he the Black Pearl of Inchicore? Arguably the most talented sportsman
to ever emerge from this tiny island nation, Paul McGrath. Our love
of him is rooted in countless heroic displays for the Irish football
team, but plenty of players have performed stoutly in the green
without garnering the kind of affection Paul does.
You
see what we love about Paul is how typically Irish he is, he may have
been one of the first black men in Dublin but a more Irish person you
couldn't imagine. Despite his mercurial talents he never quite
believed in himself, and this was despite playing for the biggest
club of them all, Manchester United. He seemed bashful when praised,
embarrassed almost, gway outta that I was only alright. And when
coupled with an almost crippling shyness what you had was an
incredibly unassuming, gentle giant who just happened to be a
world-class footballer. But like so many Irish men before him Paul
sought to overcome his social awkwardness in the only way we know
how, with drink.
Anyone
that has read his autobiography will be fully aware of the tumultuous
life of Paul McGrath, it's an astonishing read which leaves you in
awe of the man. But by the book's end we are left feeling positive
about the future, Paul is seeking help, everything will be okay, he
won't go the way of Best and Gascoigne, thank God for that. Sadly in
the life of an alcoholic nothing is ever that simple. And so it was
that Paul hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons again this
week: a public-order offence in which he was accused of acting in a
“disturbed manner.” His 'punishment' was a day teaching young
kids the finer arts of the game in which he so excelled. But more
revealing was his excuse for his behaviour, he admitted to using
alcohol as a way of overcoming his anxieties. The crazy thing
is he was doing that twenty years ago, is this simply a man that is
beyond help? All he want is to be sober and the entire country is
behind him in that regard. But you can't help but feel you've seen it
all before, and that you know how it ends - badly.
COPPERS
AND ROBBERS
How
is your money jar coming along? Getting nice and full in preparation
for Christmas? Come on, don't pretend you don't have one, everyone
does. Mine is currently full to overflowing and I badly need to cash
in. At the moment I've even taken to pilfering the last remaining 50
cent pieces during the more austere times. The pennies and two
pennies? I never go near them, why the fuck would I? The reason I
wouldn't is because they are essentially worthless. Oh yes they're
occasionally handy when you're in a bind but for the most part they
never re-enter circulation once they drop into your pocket. That's
right the majority of those little pieces of copper only end up being
used in one solitary transaction. They either end up in the bottom of
your money jar or back with the bank via one of those handy little
money bags. Hardly seems worth the effort to even make them does it?
And
when you consider that they cost as much to produce as they are
actually worth then it's hard to ascertain why we even have them.
Well thankfully they might not be around much longer. You wouldn't
usually associate Wexford Town or it's denizens with anything approaching
forward thinking but they are currently experimenting a system which
dispenses with those pesky little coppers. And should this experiment
be deemed a success then they will be officially taken out of
circulation (the coins, not people from Wexford). The more
mistrusting among us may question this initiative and wonder if it's
not just another cunning ploy by our government, they're taking our
pennies the bastards! But it is has already been implemented in
Holland to great success so we can rest easy. Fuck knows how we'll
manage at Christmas without our money jars though.
I'll BE THERE IN A JIFFY
No
jobs, no money, no women, no drink, the country is fucked, get out
while you can. And many have, emigration is at it's highest since the
1980s and shows no signs of slowing down. Who can blame those who
have fled in search of better fortunes? Good luck to 'em, we'll let
ye know when it's safe to come back. What this has also meant is the
slowing down of the mass immigration that occurred in Ireland during
the early part of the noughties. No one wants to come here any more,
we're fuckin' skint lads turn back. But on the other hand, thanks to
the Gathering (aka; the shakedown) our tourism industry is on the up
and up. They're falling over themselves to get here and sample our
overpriced Guinness and intemperate weather. Why some of 'em are even
paddling over on dinghies, from Dorset.
Yes one American man was so keen to set foot on our fabled land that hetook it upon himself to pop over on a little dinghy, sure 'tis only
across the water I'll be there in a couple of minutes. It didn't work
out like that though and the poor sod was found floundering in the
Irish Sea just a couple of miles off the coast of England.
Eventually, after much discussion, he was taken ashore and treated
for severe sunburn. Maybe he has Irish roots after all, we're
renowned for going a bit mad when the sun hits us. Details of his
cargo were unconfirmed but he is believed to have had two flagons of
Linden Village, eight
luncheon sandwiches wrapped in tin foil, an Ipod featuring the hits of The Dubliners and a six pack of Tayto on
board.
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