Rambles around the head of an Irish Grandad

The elephant in the room

Grandad February 2nd, 2012

There is an expression that has been grossly overused for the last while.

“The elephant in the room.”

Now I don’t know who coined this irritating cliché, but he [or she] should be shot, preferably with an elephant gun.

But why do I mention it now, you ask? Well, probably you don’t but I like to think I give rise to intelligent debate and discourse. Leastwise, I do have a reason.

Sir Fartzalott arrives here occasionally. For those of you who maybe haven’t bothered reading this in recent times, Sir Fartzalott is the youngest of the grandkids.

He is a lovely kid with a solemn face and a strange sense of humour. He has a couple of activities that he indulges in when he comes here. One is to press every button and switch every switch he can lay his hands on which leads to some interesting surprises, such as music suddenly blaring out at around a hundred watts.

His other activity is picking things up and transporting them. He loves playing with my old collection of Dinky and Matchbox toys which are all well over fifty years old. I have grown used to seeing little cars in the strangest of places I would find an old Ford truck on the toilet cistern or a Massy Fergusson tractor in the coal scuttle and know exactly how they got there.

He was here a couple of days ago, and found our elephants. They are two little hand carved and highly polished African elephants and I have had them for donkey’s years [or elephant’s years?]. One of them ended up on the table in the kitchen, but the other is nowhere to be seen. For once, Sir Fartzalott has me baffled.

So if you do happen to find an elephant in the room, could you let me know?

I miss him.

More bullshit for the growing pile

Grandad February 1st, 2012

From yesterday’s Irish Times -

Irish officials may adopt UK scheme to cut smoking rates

There are quite a few questions I would have to ask about this.

For a start, I would love to know just what sort of magic bullet the gubmint seem to think this bloke has, that they invite the Gardai and Revenue along. Who is this bloke who seems to claim he can achieve what virtually every country in Europe has failed to do?

Actually, the answer is probably quite simple. He is an expert at bullshitting.

I have seen dozens of statistics that purport to prove without a shadow of a doubt that the rate of heart attacks has fallen dramatically after the introduction of a smoking ban. And without exception every one of those proofs has proved to be a load of codswallop. Heart attack rates have been falling steadily just about everywhere, and there isn’t a single case where smoking bans have caused the rate to vary, so the quoted figures, I can guarantee are the figures for the natural decline. I notice he doesn’t hive a time period for this decline? Is it since 2005? 2000? 1950?

I have tried to find the source of the figures he quotes, but I came up with a blank. The nearest I could find was the crowd mentioned in the article called Fresh [Smokefree North East]. Reading through this site there is precious little in the way of hard figures. It is full of innuendos and the glib clichés that the Righteous love so much - “it is estimated that”, “a growing body of evidence that” and “the figures show” [which is never accompanied by the “figures”].

One of the claims is that “A campaign against tobacco smuggling has been very successful”. Apparently this remarkable claim is based on a “survey” of 4000 people. Now, how can a survey prove that smuggling has decreased? Unless the 4000 are all smugglers whining about their loss of trade, I can’t see how this “survey” can prove anything. If some health freaks ring me up and ask my about my illicit tobacco supplies, do you really, honestly think I am going to give them the unvarnished truth? Hah! I will lie through my teeth just to confuse their figures.

There is one little statement though that really gets me going – “We know from the drink driving law that we can change people’s behaviour”. Oh boy! This is the Smug Righteous at their best! Who is the “we”? A group of smug little bastards who really sincerely believe that they know what’s best for us and believe they have a natural right to herd us into their way of thinking.

After all, we can’t think for ourselves.

Can we?

Love is in the air

Grandad January 31st, 2012

Has anyone noticed anything strange about our Dame Enda?

He is spending a lot of time over ~~at the Führerbunker~~ with his EU pals and the papers are therefore treating us to loads of pictures of him.

How is it that virtually every photograph shows him with Sarkozy?

sarkozy-kenny-2

There are two possibilities.

Either Kenny is like the small kid in the playground who wants to be “in with the gang” and therefore sells his soul to them, offering to carry their schoolbooks and telling them all the time what great people they are?

Or else he’s in love.

sarkozy-kenny-1

Either way I find it rather disquieting.

And also I’m a bit pissed off that apparently Ireland’s sovereignty is Kenny’s dowry.

Bring back Dubya

Grandad January 30th, 2012

I had cause the other day to look back on some of my earlier scribbles.

Jayzus but you’d swear they were written by a different bloke.

Some of them are long and rambling, and some have a quaint sort of humour about them. Leastwise once or twice I almost found myself smiling, but fortunately I copped on in time.

So what the fuck happened in the last five and a bit years? I know Dubya is gone [he used to provide tons of material] and the current incumbent – Obama – is a colourless substitute, if you’ll forgive the expression [hah!]. At home, Bertie the Bollox has retreated to the kitchen cupboard and Cowen has disappeared into an alcoholic haze. Politics just isn’t fun any more.

So what the fuck happened to turn me from a mildly humorous old fart into a cynical humourless old fart? Can it be the recession? Can it be that I’m getting old? Are they putting something in the tap water?

It’s worrying.

If this trend continues, I’m going to become a right cantankerous old bollix.