Dial M For Malignant

And last week I was praying silently that Seán Gallagher became President. He was, all of a sudden, recommended highly to me on the television on Monday night by Martin McGuinness. I had been apathetic, I hadn’t paid too much attention but all that changed when the bould Martin tried to guillotine Seán live on air. And in an instant he became the only one for me. You see I bided my time, I was patient, I let the bould Martin do the vetting and research for me. To my mind there is no higher form of recommendation for any position than to have Martin McGuinness trying to deprive you of it. For whomever Martin stored up his vitriol and unleashed it at the eleventh hour decided where my vote went. So thanks Martin for doing the legwork and saving me all that pesky thought and contemplation.

Fianna Fáil; who cares, brown envelopes; who cares, dodgy dealings; who fuckin' cares? He may have been shite at the job, he may have been totally unsuitable, I don’t know and I don’t give a fuck. McGuiness and his ilk tried to derail him and that’s good enough for me. That’s the only endorsement I needed. Hard luck Seánie boy.