Confessions of a tree hugger
Grandad April 27th, 2010
When I was young and idealistic, I used to be a fierce campaigner for the environment.
I marched at Wood Quay. I campaigned against a nuclear power plant at Carnsore Point. I signed petitions and fought at the Battle of Hume Street. I cheered on The Green Party and Friends of the Earth, and in my own way, was quite a radical.
What are the thanks I get for all my campaigning?
I am marginalised by the smoking ban “for the greater good”. I am paying fucking Carbon Taxes “for the greater good”. At every corner, I am preached at and lectured about “saving the environment” and “reducing my carbon footprint”. I am sick of hearing about “eco friendliness” and “sustainable living”. I have had to put up with all that shite about Global Warming and Climate Change. Worst of all, I have to put up with those insufferable pricks John Gormless and Eamonn “The Joker” Ryan, with their visions of us all driving around in electrically powered shopping trolleys, and freezing to death in winter to cut down on CO2.
I have seen the light.
I have had enough of those tree huggers with their pseudo religion and their fucking CO2 obsessions.
I am collecting used oil and dud car batteries to dump in the landfill. I am collecting old car tyres to burn in the garden. I am starting a campaign to build a nuclear power plant at the Lakes of Killarney, and another at the site of that fucking monastic settlement in Glendalough. They can ram their wind turbines up their arses for all I care.
My name is Grandad and I’m a tree hugger.
But I am recovering.
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