Sub Prime Time

Who in God’s name decided Miriam O’Callaghan was capable of conducting an interview outside the rarified realm of politics? I’d like, if I may, to share a couple of tips gleaned from recent interviews particularly the one last Saturday morning with the Boormans.

Don’t go “Wow that was a great story” when your guest has just finished delivering a mildly interesting anecdote. Don’t go “Oh that’s really sweet actually” when your guest has just told you how much he loves his wife. It’s the actually here that’s the killer. You might just have gotten away with “Oh that’s really sweet”. Just. But the “actually” tagged onto the end makes it unforgiveable.

Don’t even get me started on the snooze fest of a few weeks ago when she managed to fit jumbo ego to the power of two, Lee agus Bird into the same studio to deliver the most turgid, self congratulatory hour of broadcasting in living memory.

And when are the powers that be going to give young Christopher McKevitt a proper forum on which to showcase his obvious talents? The slick, merciless way he tackles some of these blowhard corporate types on the morning business slots bodes well for the future. When he will be properly unleashed unfortunately is down to the vagaries of RTE management, the same management which decided that anyone with a shred of mental competence would be entertained listening to Miriam cheerlead George and Charlie performing their renowned mutual jerk off routine a few weeks ago.

If I bothered buying a license I’d be even more upset.

What Goes Round..........

Last weekend in the Sunday Independent Niamh Horan wrote a piece detailing the financial troubles of one Adele King, aka national treasure and beloved entertainer Twink.

In the article Horan carried a quote from a member of what she described as Twink’s “inner circle” to bear out the story. Essentially Twink has a fairly decent house in Knocklyon and she is having trouble meeting the mortgage payments. I know a plumber who has a fairly decent house in Rathgar and he is having trouble meeting the mortgage payments. I know a supermarket manager who has a fairly decent house in Ballinteer and he is having trouble meeting the mortgage payments. This must mean that I am a member of these people’s “inner circle”. Seemingly not knowing that one even exists should be no impediment to entering an individual's "inner circle". I did not know this.

When you are having trouble paying your household bills, you must forsake your right to have an “inner circle”. This is one of the rules that you must accept when you acquire your “inner circle” in the first place. The “inner circle” disappears when the car is towed from the driveway by the finance company.

Michael O’Leary, Michael Smurfit, Tony O’Reilly, John Magnier, Dermot Desmond, Denis O’Brien and Sean Quinn have “inner circles”.

Twink, like a van driver or a quantity surveyor, has friends.

Spinning Kenny

Enda Kenny has gone on record to rule out any idea of a coalition involving his party and Sinn Fein. So repulsed is Enda by Grizzly and the lads that he would not contemplate making a deal with them to form a government. Even if it jeopardized his ultimate goal of becoming Taoiseach of a government in which Fine Gael would be the majority party.

So it was a measure of the moral fabric of the man to see him last week coming to the aid of Sinn Fein who had been so viciously and maliciously slighted by Willie O’ Dea. What selflessness he showed in putting aside his obvious revulsion to come to their aid and make a stand for better standards in public office. What mental turmoil he must have endured in wrestling with his conscience, what steel and fortitude he displayed in being able to park the ideological chasm which exists between the parties in order to make the case for Ministerial accountability.

Oh Enda what a beacon of hope you are for our Parliamentary system. For Democracy itself. For if not Enda, who will fight the good fight, who will drag us out of this unethical quagmire? You see Enda is guided by a moral compass us mere mortals do not possess, a compass that led him through the dark night of the soul and into bed with Sinn Fein.

In the public interest, don’t you know.

For everyone's sake let’s hope he used a condom. Who put the bag over whose head is not clear at this point.

Sinn a Willie

Willie O’ Dea has defended the allegations that he accused a Sinn Fein election candidate of owning a brothel by saying that the candidate in question accused him of using incorrectly headed notepaper in his constituency office and that he was simply ”responding in kind”.

Followers of Willie’s junior hurling career will be familiar with this tendency and recall an incident in a championship match in the late sixties when Willie was on the receiving end of a robust shoulder from a Bruff player. He “responded in kind” by having a load of seasoned turkey manure tipped in the player’s driveway and poisoning his pet pony, Bullseye.

The scale of Willie’s achievement here surely needs to be acknowledged in that he is the first person in history to participate in a stationery disagreement during which the moral high ground was ceded to Sinn Fein. No stationery related skirmish on record has resulted in a surge in credibility for Grizzly and the lads. Until now. Willie's pivotal contribution to this milestone, this watershed moment in Irish politics is duly noted.

Quite an accomplishment. Possibly the only one of any note. Apart from the 'tache obviously. The 'tache transcends party politics. No one of sound mind would question the 'tache. And rightly so.

Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis

A Tom Waits love song for Valentines Day. With Silent Night intro & ending.

hey Charley I'm pregnant
and living on 9th street
right above a dirty bookstore
off Euclid Avenue
and I stopped taking dope
and I quit drinking whiskey
and my old man plays the trombone
and works out at the track.

and he says that he loves me
even though it's not his baby
and he says that he'll raise him up
like he would his own son
and he gave me a ring
that was worn by his mother
and he takes me out dancin'
every Saturday nite.

and hey Charley I think about you
everytime I pass a fillin' station
on account of all the grease
you used to wear in your hair
and I still have that record
of little anthony & the imperials
but someone stole my record player
how do you like that?

hey Charley I almost went crazy
after Mario got busted
so I went back to Omaha to
live with my folks
but everyone I used to know
was either dead or in prison
so I came back to Minneapolis
this time I think I'm gonna stay.

hey Charley I think I'm happy
for the first time since my accident
and I wish I had all the money
that we used to spend on dope
I'd buy me a used car lot
and I wouldn't sell any of 'em
I'd just drive a different car
every day dependin' on how I feel.

hey Charley for chrissakes
do you want to know the truth of it?
I don't have a husband
he don't play the trombone
and I need to borrow money
to pay this lawyer and Charley, hey
I'll be eligible for parole
come Valentines Day.

I'll Get Back To Ya

Hard to know what to make of the resignation of the former RTE Economics Correspondent from the Fine Gael parliamentary party.

Has he done the honourable thing or made, as they'd say in Foxrock, a Leorge Gee of himself?

Tip of The Week

I have it on good authority that if you go into Burdocks in Christchurch and order a battered sausage they will throw in a bag of chips for free.

It sounds like commercial suicide but if it's true it has to be the greatest customer inducement in retail history, easily trumping any miserable scrappage scheme or seven year unlimited warranty you care to mention.

I don't live in Dublin so can someone drop in there and let me know if it's true. bburke1971@gmail.com

I will construct a family day out around it.