Archive for the 'Election' Category

I’ve been tagged again

Grandad November 11th, 2007

Our K8 has come up with a new meme.

And, bless her little cotton socks, she has passed it on to me.

She wants me to write a post that uses every tag. It’s all very well for her - she only has a few. I have loads. The cow!

Now I may be getting old but I find these difficult. I had a hard days blogging yesterday, as I had a good rant on a podcast to America. That was after I did my post on Cully and Sully.

So today I went for a ramble around the garden, trying to think of a topic. No go. There was no inspiration around the house either, and I’m damned if I’m going around the village or around the town for something so trivial.

Back in the 70’s life was a lot simpler. There were no computers or Internet, or even television so there were no memes. I had no irritating daughter in the family either. We found our pleasures in simple things. I remember learning to drive so we could go on holidays touring in the West, with no worries about flying and Global Warming. We had such simple sports as children in times past, like watching spiders spin their webs, and the designs they’d make. We’d go for rambles through the woods and have picnics of tea and spam sandwiches. We were a lot healthier for it.

Nowadays, work is the new religion and people have lost the use of their imagination. People only get worked up over celebrities and smoking out corrupt politicians. They panic over property prices and have lost sight of the soul of life.

No.

I can’t think of anything.

I elect not to do it.

I’m going to file this under Uncatagorised.

Maybe Sixty should have a bash at this?

Or how about Kirk at Just Thinkin’? I haven’t tagged him before.

And it’s a while since I annoyed Grannymar!!

tag-award

F*cking memes….

Where’s the cyanide?

Grandad June 12th, 2007

I have just heard that Bertie has signed with the Greens.

Oh God!

If this is a done deal it means another five years of Stuttering Bertie the Builder, and Mad Cow Harney. Five more years of The Galway Tent. Five more years of pocket lining. Five more years of Blubber Lips Cowan.

That’s too much for anyone to take.

I’m phoning Dr. Death.

Goodbye cruel world……………

A little retrospection

Grandad May 26th, 2007

A few nice things happened yesterday.

Jimmy called around, and we discussed some home improvements. Jimmy is the handiest handyman/fixer/builder that I know of and he has some great mates who are top rate electricians and plumbers. We are going to do a little refurbishing of the kitchen, and Jimmy dismissed all my fears of a ‘big job’. So that is a weight off my mind.

We also arranged for a bloke to come around and do some heavy gardening that has been worrying me for a while. Another weight gone.

And the PDs got crapped on. From a great height. Good riddance. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer bunch of people.

Now that the dust is beginning to settle on yesterday, things don’t look too bad.

We are in for some ‘interesting’ times. Bertie may end up as Taoiseach, but he is either going to have to rely on a lot of independents and the Greens or he is going to have to sway Labour.

I can’t see the latter happening, but if it did, it’s going to be a mad coalition. But it would be the end of Labour. I doubt anyone would ever trust them again.

Whatever happens, I can’t see us ending up with a stable government.

Another very strange thing happened last night.

I saw Bertie being interviewed, and I actually liked him. Just for a moment.

He came across as humourous and reasonably intelligent. He was coherent. He made sense. He was relaxed. He slagged off journalists [which didn't amuse John Bowman]. He was likeable.
And then I remembered the state of the country, and the moment passed.

So I’m back now to planning the revolution. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

I will make an excellent leader. I’m honest. I’m not corrupt. I will keep my word. I will put the people of this country first.

But I need financing.

So if there are people out there who would like to send me some bulging brown envelopes? I have set up the offshore account and the biggest donors will get the best jobs.

Things are going to change.

Please say it’s not true

Grandad May 25th, 2007

I am depressed.

I am seriously depressed, to the point of despair.

lightening_strikes.jpg

We have more wealth pouring in than ever before. We are one of the fastest growing economies in Europe, if not the world.

Yet the outgoing government failed abysmally to deal with health, education, care of the elderly, crime, the environment; the list goes on and on.

They lined their own pockets and those of their cronies, and wasted hundreds of millions on futile projects with wanton recklessness.

But they make a few feeble promises and they look like they are going to get elected back in. Do the people of this country not remember that they didn’t keep the promises they made in the last two elections? Have the people of this country forgotten the litany of fiascos, scandals and tribunals?

It looks like we are in for another term of government from the Galway Tent. More backhanders. More brown envelopes. More pocket lining.

And worst of all - that little sh*t Ahern smirking at us.

How could you all do this to me?

I can’t decide between a military coup, mass murder or to renew my Prozac prescription.

I think I’ll go for all three.

A floating voter finally sinks

Grandad May 25th, 2007

I was a floating voter up to yesterday.

So I floated down to the polling station to see what would happen.

The place was deserted except for a very bored looking garda and a few people sitting behind boxes. They looked like they were expecting thousands to arrive, and all started fighting to get me over to their table, because I was the only person there. And Herself of course.

Being a very conscientious person, I had recycled my polling card a couple of weeks ago, but that didn’t bother them. I just told them that I was famous and that was good enough.

So I cast my vote and went looking for the Exit Poll that they are always talking about. I found the exit, but no Poles. There were a couple of Lithuanians beating the crap out of each other, so I shot them. There was also a very beautiful blue butterfly on the ground. I carried him to a bush in case someone stepped on him.

I suppose you want to know how I voted?

I’m not in Bertie’s or Harney’s or McDowell’s constituencies so there was nothing I could do about them.

So I crossed the first candidate off the list and printed in Grandad. I gave myself Number One, of course.

Herself did the same. So if noone else turns up, I’m elected.

And the rest?

Well, they are all pretty much the same when the dust settles. I still couldn’t decide. Then it struck me. The perfect vote!

I gave them all my Number Twos.

And the winner is …

Grandad May 18th, 2007

I have been hearing a lot lately about Opinion Poles.

Everyone seems to think they are great.

If the party is looking good in the poles, then “Poles are the voice of the people”. If the party is looking bad then “we don’t pay much attention to the poles. It’s the election that counts”.

In its eternal quest for truth, Head Rambles has decided to do its own pole.

So I headed off. The first pole I came across was a telegraph pole. It was plastered in election posters. Someone had shot Bertie Ahern through both eyes with a .22 [good shooting, by the way!]. It gave him a rather blank and vacant look. Very realistic, I thought.

I headed on, passing many poles and they were all plastered in posters. On one of them, Michael McDowell was hanging upside down. He looks much better that way. You should try it permanently, Michael. Your ratings might go up.

Eventually I ended up in a shopping centre with one of those big department stores.

This is where I found my Pole at last.

“Hello” says I. “Are you a Pole?”

“Cześć” says he.

“OK. You are a Pole, and I want your Opinion”

“Nie rozumiem”

“Who do you think is going to win the election?”

“Kocham Cię” he replied.

This wasn’t getting on as well as I’d hoped.

“Which coalition would you prefer to see in power?”

“Jestem w ciąży. Wyjdziesz za mnie?”

“Who would you like to see as Taoiseach?”

His face lit up. He ran off and came back with a tee shirt with “FCUK” written across the front.

“Which is the best party” says I.

He ran off again, and came back with twenty Silk Cut.

“And which party will support them in government?”

Once again, he disappeared and came back with a bra [I think it was a 40DD]. He thought he was getting the hang of this.

“And the opposition?” says I “Do you think the Greens will be in government or in opposition?”

He looked puzzled for a moment, but then did his vanishing trick again. He came back with a cabbage and a load of green beans.

My carrier bag was getting fairly full at this stage so I thanked him.

“Nie mogę bez Ciebie żyć” he replied.

So there you have it. The official Head Ramble Opinion Pole.

The result?

We are going to have a FCUK as Taoiseach, with a party of fags in power. They will be supported by a bra.

And the Opposition will be a load of vegetables.

-oOo-

P.S. If anyone knows Polish, I’d love to know what he was saying.  He seemed to think I was a grand bloke anyway.

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