Back over the past decade when the birds didn’t get the auld sniffles and when pigs never flu, there was an affliction that struck this country. It was called PNH1SG or to give it its full name Paddy Never Had It So Good. It was a contagious condition that spread like wildfire. It was a strain of the other virus AF1WSLE (Arragh Feck It We’ve Suffered Long Enough ). It was a deadly ailment that spread in conditions of affluence — as such it was a sort of gout for the Nineties and Noughties.
Medical journals explained it was a condition that the Irish fell victim to because of 800 years of oppression and rain. Fed up with his/her lot, the average Paddy made use of the newfound affluence to behave abnormally and do alien things like go skiing or buy holiday homes in darkest deepest Bulgaria while snorting cocaine off the taut belly of a Slovakian escort who for a hundred euro extra would spank ya like a baby.
Under this condition, Paddy was game for anything. Give it to me, he or she would roar. No risk was ever too much. No luxury was ever too ostentatious. And so, if someone offered us an extra bit of cake, we’d gobble it up and worry about the consequences tomorrow, because Garth Brooks had told us anyway that tomorrow never comes. And so I have to laugh this week at the level of righteous indignation that is being expressed at the poor auld Minister for Fun taking a limo between two terminals. Shocking, disgraceful, they say it was. Yes, it was stupid, but how many of us would, if offered this service have said, “arragh, no you’re grand, I’ll walk,”and I write this in a city where people used to take a helicopter ride from Renmore to the racecourse.
Under the Fiefdom of Inflammation Act, the Advertiser’s Investigative Unit (excuse the dust ) have uncovered documents that will shock you to the core and reveal a culture of extravagance among our public representatives that shows a blatant disregard for the times we live in. These shocking stunning revelations show that the people we elected to represent us have been gorging on a spending spree over the past few years.
Examples of this include:
— Former junior minister Noel Treacy hiring Formula 1 ace Jensen Button as his personal driver to get him to the Dail on time.
— The Councillor Formerly Known As Stroke personally flying in the Swiss Olympic Fencing team to carry out the work on his gargantuan estate in South Galway.
— Cllr Michael Crowe hiring a team of ace Canadian lumberjacks to rid the city of trees prior to the last local election on the premise that people couldn’t see the birds for the trees.
— Former Mayor Padraig Conneely hiring top photographers Lord Lichfield and Annie Liebowitz to follow him around as he pointed at potholes and loose kerbing for four years
— Cllr Brian Walsh paying exorbitantly for one-to-one lessons from Harry Potter author JK Rowling on how to become the Prince of the Dark Arts prior to negotiating the new coalition on the City Council
— Cllr Neil McNeilus having top hairdresser Vidal Sassoon on a retainer to ensure that the Floppy Mop retains that Hugh Grant/Tory-ish shape.
— Declan Ganley paying Druid for expensive pronunciation and elocution classes in a bid to sound more like Christy Mahon and less like David Beckham.
The list goes on and I’d love to tell you more, but I’ve got to dash as my taxi to bring me across to the Skeff is waiting outside.
