Thanks very much to de Advertiser for giving me some space here to tell all my followers and fans about my latest venture.
I'm sure yez don't mind if the regular fella takes a break from dishin' out the doom and gloom and gives way for a bit of good news instead.
Yes, it's me, Bertie, and I'm back. I brought yez the Celtic Tiger and now ye can read my thoughts and opinions every week in the marvellous Sunday World. Sorry, I mean, News Of The World.
Someone said to me last week that it must be a big change from running the country. Ye can say that again. There's no talk of the economy or the tribunals around here and no one has mentioned any of the boobs I'm supposed to have made over the years. Speakin' of boobs have yez seen the wan on page three last week. I'd give her my number one any time.
The stories are great too. All the info on the world superstars like meself is there. It seems that the little fella in Oliver, Mark Lester, is the father of Michael Jackson's kids and Katie Price's romance is on the rocks. I know how you feel on that one, Katie. If your lookin' for a shoulder to cry on, I'm yer man.
She seems to be a very underrated individual. She's written bestselling novels, a load of children's books and a couple of biographies already. I've been a great help to the daughter, Cecilia, with her literary career, so I wouldn't mind givin' Katie a hand as well.
I'm lookin forward to meetin' all my fellow celebrities. I can't wait for the Christmas party. It should be a lot more excitin' than the bash in the Dail bar or drinkin' pints of Bass in Fagans.
So what will I be writin' about every week? Hang on, you'll have to ask the fella that's getting paid to write the stuff that! Ha ha, only jokin'.
No, I'll be givin' my unique insight into the big sports events of the week. Ye can read what I think of the Dubs and their prospects in the All Ireland. That'll be a handy one, I can just repeat the same piece every year. The other good thing with the News Of The World readers is that they have a short memory span and I'm told they rarely go beyond the first paragraph and the picture at the top of the page. That reminds me, I must get a few shots of meself in me canary yellow trousers and a couple of models in Dub jerseys.
There I was thinkin' that the days of drinkin' in the player’s lounge at Old Trafford were over, but now, armed with me press pass, I'll be right back at the centre of the action. I'll miss young Ronaldo, but I'm thinkin' of doing a piece called, “Ronaldo and Paris Hilton. My thoughts and concerns for their future.” I think he'd appreciate that.
I'll be concentratin' on sports like soccer, formula one cars and boxing. So yez can expect plenty of shots of my famous grin as I sit surrounded by all the lovely girls from The News Of The World on bonnets of cars and in various Manchester night clubs.
Someone asked me would I be coverin' much GAA. To be honest it's unlikely that yez'll be seein' me at a Clare/Kilkenny league match down in Tullow on a wet Sunday in February, but I'd be happy enough to sit in for a photo with a couple of good lookers from the camogie team if required.
Ah yes, things are lookin' up for me again. All the talk of brown envelopes and wardrobes full of money will soon be a thing of the past. I won't deny that I was a bit disappointed when I didn't get the Late Late Show gig, but I'm sure this new venture will lead to bigger things. I was sayin' to the editor last week that I didn't think much of that Jonathan Ross fella and told him to drop the hint that I'm available to do the show. “By God, Bertie” he said, “you're something else.” You can take it from that remark that I'm on the way. Remember where you read it first.
I'm expectin' a call for the next series of “I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here” as well. Eatin' insects or worms will be no bother to me after the sh**te I've had to eat at dinner dances up and down the country over the years. Isn't that the show where Katie met yer man Peter Andre? Ye'd never know yer luck in the jungle.
I notice all the usual whingers are out, complaining that I should be spending more time in the Dail and lookin' after my constituents in Drumcondra. As usual, I seem to be the only one that gets this sort of criticism.
The Sinn Fein fella, Martin Ferris, is running a hackney service ferrying prisoners from jail to secret hideaways and there isn't a word about that. Fair play to him, I say. I've even come up with a nice name for the business: “Ferris Wheels.”
Well thanks again to The Kilkenny Advertiser for givin' me this opportunity to talk to yez all. By the way, I was readin' through the regular fella's article for last week. He was on about an Irish Times journalist called Finbarr O'Toole. Would somebody tell him the name is Fintan O'Toole. I should know, he's given me a hard time of it often enough over the years.
Cheers, see yez all in The Big Tree in September!
Bertie.
