On the FAS track

Grandad September 6th, 2010

There has been a lot said about FÁS in the last while.

For those who don’t know, FÁS is a state training agency in Ireland that is famous for spending public money on itself, and precious little on training.

I happen to know a little about the place as Frank, a very close friend of mine had some insight knowledge.

A few years ago, Frank heard there was an opening in FÁS for a temporary teacher, so he applied even though the job wasn’t advertised.  He went for an interview and met Tom who was the teacher that Frank was supposed to be replacing.  The interview apparently went very well, and Tom introduced Frank to Bill who was the head of the department.  Bill proceeded to interview Frank and the upshot was that he got the job, on the spot.  Frank was to replace Tom, whenever Tom was on leave.

Being a sensible sort of chap, Frank asked when he was supposed to start work.  Bill looked at Tom, and Tom looked at Bill.  “When do you want to take leave?”  Bill asked Tom.  “Next week?” replied Tom.  “I could do with a couple of weeks.”  And so it was settled.  Frank was to start work the following week.

Monday dawned.  Well, it didn’t actually as the classes started very early and Frank lived a long way from FÁS so he was up long before dawn, but that’s beside the point.  Anyway, he arrived at FÁS and met Bill who was to show him around the place, and was to introduce him to the class who were already a few weeks into their course. 

Everything went smoothly and Frank was in the middle of getting to know the class when who should walk into the class but Tom, the teacher he was supposed to replace.  Tom had a little office at the back of the class, so at coffee break time, Frank had a quick word with Tom.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on leave?” asked Frank.

“I am on leave,” said Tom.

“Then what the fuck are you doing in this place?” asked Frank who was a little bewildered at this stage.

“It gives me a chance to catch up on some personal stuff,” replied Tom.

Tom apparently decided he needed a three week break, so for three weeks, Frank taught the class while Tom sat in his office playing games on his computer.  Frank was a bit mystified by this, but he was earning in excess of €1,000 a week which was extremely generous for those times, and considerably more than Tom was earning, so he didn’t question things.

Everything went very well, and at the end of the three weeks, Frank said his farewells to the class, and that was that.

Or so he thought.

A month later, he got a call from Tom, asking if he would like to do another three weeks.  Frank said he would indeed, and the whole process was repeated.  For three more weeks, Frank taught the class on his handsome salary, while Tom played computer games in his office.  It was quite apparent that Frank was taken on any time Tom just didn’t feel like teaching.

Frank worked for FÁS for several years.  He did around twelve weeks a year, and on only one occasion did Tom actually go away.  Frank actually found it quite strange teaching the class without Tom being present. 

I don’t know how much Frank earned over the years, but it was a considerable sum.  And when you consider that FÁS were paying Tom as well, and that the latter was turning up every day but just not teaching, it was quite a waste of money [not that Frank complained].

Weird.

Smoking or non smoking

Grandad September 5th, 2010

I have had a yoke on the site for some time, and have never used it.

It’s a thingy to allow people to vote.

Now, the default one in it is one of those “what do you think of this site” ones, which is a load of shite because I couldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks.

A few of you were whinging about my little occasional references to the smoking ban though, so I thought I would try the software out just for the laugh.

I am a great believer in democracy so following in the footsteps of those great democratic institutions, the Irish Government and the EU, I shall abide by the poll results, but only if I agree with them.

So here you go…

Have your say [if you must]

View Results
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And while I’m at it, there was a minor spat about the little flags on the comments.  I like ‘em, but some people claim they give the wrong location.

What do you think?

The flags

View Results
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I’ll keep both polls open for the week and see what happens.

Snap out of it

Grandad September 3rd, 2010

Last year, 241 people lost their lives on Irish roads.

When you consider the amount of traffic here, and the fact that a lot of Irish drivers don’t know their arse from their break pedal, that is a pretty small number.

The government however wail like a fucking banshees every time someone dies on the roads, and they immediately slam on new Nanny State laws about drink driving, speeds and whatever the fuck they can think of.  Gay Byrne is rolled out again to tell us that “speed kills” and other stupid little platitudes.  Millions more are poured into advertising campaigns, and “traffic calming measures”.  New signs clutter up the roadside exhorting us to slow down and giving us dire threats of our immanent demise.

You would swear that road death are the only way we shuffle off our mortal coil?

Last year 527 people died by suicide.

What is the government doing?  Sweet fuck all.

More than twice as many deaths by suicide than occur on the roads, yet the government don’t even notice.

Of course the government themselves are directly responsible for a lot of those deaths.  Suicide has increased by 25% from the previous year, no doubt because of job losses, bankruptcy and massive debts.  Do we see the government funding the few agencies that can help?  No.  Do we see clinics being opened for the depressed? No.  The best they can come up with is “counselling” for those affected by high profile tragedies, because it makes for excellent public relations.  The only time I ever heard the government talk about suicide is when Bertie told all those who predicted the collapse of the banks to go and kill themselves.

Of course, suicide and depression don’t exist in this country.  To admit to depression is to admit that you are weak, feeble and sympathy seeking, when the simple solution to snap out of it.  For the government to aid the depressed would be an admission that depression exists.

We can’t have that now, can we?

Shower of fucking wankers.

Filthy habits

Grandad September 2nd, 2010

I was watching a programme on television last night and I saw something that disgusted and horrified me.

lipstick

Yes, dear readers, it was similar to the photograph above.

Isn’t that horrifying?

Isn’t that disgusting?

After months of trying to quit, I took one look at that image and was hooked again.

I am ashamed of myself, but first thing in the morning I will be off to the village to satisfy my cravings that were reignited by that ghastly image which is now forever burned into my eyes.

Yes.

I am back on the lipstick.

Lipstick use is the leading cause of death and preventable disease today.  In this country alone, statistics prove that approximately 423,981 women die from lipstick use each year.

Lipstick is known to contain over 3,872 different carcinogens and its wearers must be confined to the streets where they belong.  In a civilised society there is no place for the lipstick wearer.

Lipstick must be banned for all our sakes.  Before that though, steps must be taken to keep our children safe.  Lipstick must be heavily taxed, as higher prices are a proven way to reduce consumption.  Lipstick must be hidden from public view in all shops.  Films containing women who wear lipstick must be X rated and never shown on television.

Of course the dangers of second hand lipstick are well documented.  Drinking from a cup or glass that is tainted with the stuff is tantamount to putting a loaded revolver in your mouth and pulling the trigger.  Kissing a person who is wearing lipstick can shorten your life by over ten years.  It is estimated 80,002 men die an agonising death each year from kissing women who wear lipstick. 

I know I am weak willed for returning to this loathsome habit, but it is a known fact that lipstick is twenty times more addictive than heroin.

child_abuse
Horrific child abuse

I am doomed.

Going to the flicks

Grandad September 1st, 2010

What the hell is going on in the world of films?

I like to watch the odd film, and Herself is addicted to them.  In fact I have one of those satellite thingies which means I have hundreds of channels and some of those channels are devoted to films.  The satellite costs an arm and a leg, but it calms Herself down of an evening, and is cheaper than tranquilisers.

The problem is though that there are never any films on worth watching.

The films that are being produced these days are the greatest load of unadulterated shite.  The film makers seem to be catering almost exclusively for the young teen market and for those with an IQ level in the low twenties [same thing really]. 

There seems to be three genres of films – The “romantic comedy” [or RomCom as they nauseatingly refer to it], kids films and films that rely almost exclusively on blood, gore and pyrotechnics for the plotline.

The “RomCom” [fuckit but I detest that word] invariably stars Jennifer Aniston and is about as funny as sticking rusty nails into my eyeballs.  The word RomCom in the information about the film is quite sufficient for me to ignore it completely.

The kids’ films seem to be in the majority these days.  They range from those horrific cartoon-like films such as “Avatar” or “Toy Story” through to crap like “The Pirates of the Caribbean”.  The worst thing about this class of film is that they seem incapable of doing anything other than rehashing the first film into a series of fucking sequels, each worst than the last.

The last class of film seems to be aimed at your average twelve year old who just loves a bit of violence.  I accidentally saw the beginning of one the other night and quite honestly I was nauseated.  Within ten minutes of the film starting, I was greeted with such sites as people being impaled on steel spikes [in slow motion] and a girl being dismembered and squashed by a flying object in great graphic detail.  It was gratuitous violence for no other reason than to attract the brain-dead.

The only people who seem to be able to make films these days are the British and the Australians.  Unfortunately, they don’t make that many, but the ones they do produce are generally worth watching.

And a note to my American friends -

Will you please stop calling films “Movies”?  It makes you sound like you are still impressed with the idea of pictures that actually move.

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