Head Rambles

Grandad February 8th, 2007

I know you all thought we were going to have six feet of snow this morning.

So you all booked sick days in advance, or set the alarm for three in the morning to start your journey.

And most of you woke this morning to find no snow!

How do I know? Because I am looking at the traffic cameras on the Web. And they are not showing any snow, apart from Ballinteer.

So you are all cursing the Met Office, and swearing you’ll never believe another forecast again.

But they got it right. It has been snowing here all day. I had to whip out the old Box Brownie Camera, because I love the sight of snow on trees. I had to lash the film through the old chemicals to get them on the web in time, so excuse the quality, but here goes….

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Grandad February 8th, 2007

I was reading the Irish Times yesterday.

A wee article by Miriam Lord caught my eye.

Apparently she witnessed a Dáil debate on the housing crisis and the plight of those who can’t afford to buy a house.

If you are desperately looking for an affordable house, then this is a very serious matter. Prices are ludicrously high.

Bertie was on his feet making one of his ’speeches’.

At the best of times, Bertie is an illiterate buffoon with the speaking skills of a ten year old after ten pints of lager.

This time he excelled himself. The rest of the House [and I can imagine there were about five of them there] fell asleep, or started doing crosswords, or picking their noses. When Bertie starts speaking, you need an interpreter to understand him. I don’t think he understands himself. He talks utter sh*te.

Apparently Pat Rabbitte caught Bertie’s eye and they had a fit of the giggles. Bertie tried to carry on speaking, but Rabbitte was in stitches so Bertie stopped.

“You’ve got me. Bang to rights. But God I’m good” says Bertie.

To which Rabbitte replied

“Well! Of all the rambling, meandering, irrelevant answers that you have ever given in the House, that amounts to the worst I have ever heard.”

Now Bertie is the Taoiseach, the leader of the country, the Prime Minister or whatever you want to call him. I know what I call him.

He represents us abroad. He makes speeches to the world’s leaders. He is the ultimate face of Ireland. God help us. And doubtless he will end up as Taoiseach after the next election because this is the standard of politician we have.

Anyway, I digress.

Business in the House carried on and Bertie refused to allow the Opposition to question him on the Moriarty tribunal report.

“I went down and gave my good time to the eminent gentlemen. Enjoyed it no end.

But I done that, that’s over, so I’m not answering any more questions.

I’ve answered enough questions about signing blank cheques”

“Hold on” says the Opposition. “Tell us more about the cheques”

“Sign blank cheques? Aw, I did. Signed loads, for all kinds of organisations and clubs. For years. Cost the State a fortune to find me guilty, but anyway…”

Bertie - for Christ’s sake will you please crawl back to the gutter in Drumcondra where you belong and let someone with a few brain cells, and a modicum of intelligence and morality take over. Not that they will be easy to find in the Dáil.

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