Captain Purplehead

In the same week as we hear about the ridiculous new law on learner drivers, it transpires that Ireland now has the highest paid Prime Minister in the world after he accepted a 14% pay rise. Now, obviously I’m not including dictatorships in this - wait a second, Ireland is a dictatorship. Anyway, a new poll states that the government’s approval rating has dropped just one point. Who in the name of fuck do they poll for these fucking things? Do they go into Bertie’s local and ask the lads what they think of him? The poll suggests that 39% of people approve of Bertie Ahern, which reveals a more startling statistic. 39% of Irish people of a voting age are idiots.
Bertie’s response to the suggestion that his wages eclipse many times that of George W. Bush - (the murderous idiot) - is that he doesn’t have a Whitehouse to live in or a Camp David. Well you didn’t pay for the fucking house you live in either, Bertie. Were you fucking asleep during the tribunal?
Quite simply, our government is made up of criminals and WE KEEP VOTING THE FUCKERS BACK IN!! For the love and honour of fuck!
HSE Chief Executive Brendan Drumm has accepted a whopping pay rise also. He now earns €360,000 a year with bonuses of up to 25%. If the Captain of the Titanic had spotted the ice berg and set a course for it, he wouldn’t have been portrayed as such a selfless hero in that crap movie. Brendan Drumm is happily asking the general public to bend over so that he can fuck us up the arse. The HSE is fucked up and what do we do? Give the Chief fucking Executive of said fuck up a fucking pay rise.
Oh they didn’t stop there. Ya know when you hear of someone like the rapist, Adam Keane? Well ya know how he was initially given a suspended sentence because he didn’t know what he was doing when he broke into a deaf woman’s house and raped her? Well a dog with a mallet up its arse would have made a better job of that case but it seems that I’m totally wrong about the judiciary because they’ve been given an 18.1% wage increase. Now there are bits of orange peel floating in the Shannon at this very moment that could do a better job than our current crop of idiot judges but that doesn’t matter in this country. It’s Ireland for fuck’s sake.
So, here’s the funny bit. In order for a country to function, there needs to be various government bodies such as the health service, a police force, the judiciary etc etc. Now it’s commonly accepted that these agencies are a burden on the state. That means that the people who don’t work for the government are paying for everyone else. These simple saviours of the nation are given a nominal pay increase each year - the government also get this - and, for the privilege of helping out their country, they get screwed by every government agency they help to fund. If you need to go to hospital, you are rewarded with a trolley in the emergency room. If you have been the victim of a crime and need to see justice done… well you can totally fucking forget about that. Criminals prosper in this country. Just take a look at the government. The odd thing is that YOU will receive a custodial sentence if you don’t pay your T.V licence or default on a loan. If you murder someone, you get a couple of months in jail and a house paid for by the government when you get out.
“Well they have to stay somewhere…”
Yes, IN FUCKING JAIL, YOU FUCKING WITLESS MORONS!!!!
Well, there you have it. If you are one of those people responsible for putting that shower of criminals back in power, fucking shame on you. If you are a beneficiary of these criminal pay increases, you should speak up more than anyone else. If you are Bertie Ahern, RESIGN YOU FUCKING PARASITE!!!

I just saw an ad on T.V where various people tell you how fragile our sanity is. Totally agree. There is a thin line and I know I’ve crossed it once in a while. This ad is sponsored by the HSE and this is where I have a problem. If the GAA or the FAI or Harvey Fucking Norman had sponsored this ad, I wouldn’t be so agitated but how dare our feeble health service lecture us on mental health. What they should say is, “Mind your mental health because, if you don’t, we’re going to do one of two things. One, we’ll do absolutely fuck all about it or, Two, we’ll put you in an antiquated facility that will do sweet fuck all for your sanity except make it even more fragile.
Mind your mental health? This is from people who still think it’s a good idea to house adults and adolescents in the same facility. That’s right! So the HSE’s way of watching a 13 year old bipolar girl’s mental health is to lump her in with violent adults, some of whom are only in there to get out of custodial sentences. Yes, make sure you mind your mental health because, in Ireland, no one else is going to.
Suicidal? With our apathetic approach to patient supervision, you can off your self in the comfort of our toilet facilities.
Is this the HSE’s way of coming across as caring? It doesn’t fucking work because the HSE doesn’t work. I am not blaming the people who work in the mental health sector. In fact, I pity them for the lack of resources they’re given. They work hard to bring the best care they can and they’re not responsible for the criminally inept system that still allows ECT. That is when they attach electrodes to your head and give your brain a bit of a shock. This practice has been outlawed for decades in every other European country but it’s ok here because the HSE doesn’t give a fuck.
Our consultants are definitely taking care of their mental health and it is helped no end by the astronomical wages that they’re on. It’s easy to watch your mental health when you can fuck off on the yacht every so often.
I wouldn’t be surprised if they appointed Donald Rumsfeld as minister for health in this country. How long have this government had to turn things around? What have they done with that time? They’ve done exactly what the HSE has done for mental health. FUCK ALL!!

So Steve Staunton has been sacked… Well I’m not saying I’m sorry to see him go but his dismissal only serves to illustrate that the FAI haven’t a clue what they’re doing. John Delaney and David Blood should follow Stan out of Irish football if we are to have any hope of resurrecting our National team. They appointed Stan despite his complete lack of experience in a managerial role. “He has one hundred and two caps so he must know what he’s doing” was their rationale. I once watched a guy fix a car but nobody’s offered me a job as a mechanic.
I feel sorry for Stan. He was a brilliant player for Ireland and my beloved Villa. He was a great servant. Who’d have thought that he was so tactically inept? His ineptitude, however, pales in comparison to the ineptitude of the FAI.
Let’s see who they appoint as the next manager. Why not David O’Leary? He systematically destroyed Villa and was involved in the pulverisation of Leeds, which makes him the perfect man for the Irish job.

I have been absent for a while due to work commitments - lowly vessels won’t pillage themselves, y’know - but I’m back now. The hold’s rum supply is once again replenished and I’m doing ok for trinkets and such. I was going to write a new post on Wednesday but I decided I’d watch the match first. I use the term “match” loosely because what it really was was a pile of steaming elephant shit. I speak of course of the Irish soccer team’s meeting with the mighty Cyprus. Yes, Cyprus, that giant of international football. Brazilians shudder at the very mention of its name.
Cyprus has a population of around 730,000 people and a couple of goats. 12.5% of Cyprus belongs to Turkey so that leaves around 640,000 people to pick a football team from. Taking that into account, Ireland should be streets ahead of them in terms of the quality of players available to them, right? Absolutely right. We have better players in every position. We should be blooding new players against the likes of Cyprus and still beat them by at least a couple of goals. Let’s take it one step further: Cyprus are a crap football team. We were in a crap group. The Czech Republic are no longer the force they once were and Germany are now pedestrian at best. We had two games this week and we should have won one of them. I speak, of course, of the game against Germany. All we were missing in that game was a Spurs jersey because, if Robbie Keane had been wearing a Spurs jersey instead of an Irish one, he would have scored at least two goals against an average defence. Take the captaincy off of Robbie and he might be a better player for it.
As I watched - simultaneously reminded of a painful molar extraction - I noticed something that you would expect a manager to notice. Joey O’Brien played a decent game at centre-half against Germany. John - the donkey - O’Shea has proven time and time again his ineptitude in the centre-half position. John - the donkey O’Shea is a donkey but he’s a better midfield option than anything Cyprus had to offer. I know what you’re thinking; why is he telling us this? Well, Staunton decided to use John - the donkey - O’Shea as a centre half and push Joey O’Brien into a central midfield role that he had not played in before. This smacks to me of a man who hasn’t a clue how to manage a football team. Do I blame Staunton for the current mess we’re in? No.
In the stands at the game were two of Ireland’s better known criminals, Bertie Ahern and John Delaney. Ireland crumbled under minor pressure while these two fucking dickheads discussed how best to describe a brown envelope. John Delaney should step down from the FAI and take up a job as George W. Bush’s speechwriter. Fucking clueless fucking moron who cannot even manage a decent comb-over. TWAT TWAT TWAT TWAT!!!
The one thing that pissed me off about the encounter, after the manner of our capitulation, was that we weren’t beaten by the four goals that Cyprus deserved.
Here’s a little statistic for the FAI to chew over. If the table was displayed after two games against Cyprus, it would read that Ireland have scored two and conceded six. Fuck off Delaney.

If you ever find yourself in Limerick and Dave Irwin is playing, check him out. He does an amazing version of the classic below and a kicking version of There There by Radiohead.

A long time ago. In an Irish town far far away there lived a man who had a dream. His dream was quite simple; he wanted to be a self made man. He wanted to be a captain of industry. He wanted to wear the smug grin of success.
Now, other people who have had this dream tend to do things like… oh, go to college or gain relevant experience. Not our man. He decided to get where he wanted to go by being a giant prick to the local musicians. He became a self-appointed entertainments manager but with a twist: he was a fucking useless one. Not only that, he had a nasty habit. No, it wasn’t a drug habit. Here’s the thing: Musician A has been hired to play by the aforementioned prick. Musician A arrives a few hours before the gig and drops in his gear. He then heads for a pint, meaning to return in plenty of time to set up.
Meanwhile, Musician B arrives to pick up his gear, as he had been playing the previous night. To musician B’s astonishment, the aforementioned twat has rented his gear to Musician C, who is playing in Galway. Musician B is furious at this but the aforementioned weasel has a plan: he rents Musician A’s gear to Musician B.
Musician A, oblivious to the protracted negotiations that have gone on, arrives to set up his gear and finds it is no longer there. Aforementioned rat shrugs his shoulders and says, “Your gear, your responsibility”. Musician A reminds the idiot that he has not only rented Musician A’s talent but the equipment necessary to render said talent. A confused look crosses over the aforementioned monkey’s fat features but he still doesn’t admit to what he has done. Musician A is trying to set up a direct input from the electric guitar to the P.A - something any self-respecting musician will tell you is a million miles less than ideal - when the barmaid tells him there’s a phone call for him.
Lo and behold it’s his friend - musician B - who has just copped whose gear he has. He relates the full details of the previous negotiations and informs Musician A that he is on his way back from Ennis. He has now cancelled his gig because he realises what the aforementioned dickhead has done.
Musician B doesn’t get back in time to save the start of the gig and Musician A has had a nightmare start to what should have been second nature. Musician B cannot apologise enough and Musician A tells him not to worry about it.
The second half of the gig is much better and Musician A - still in a temper from what had happened - goes to talk to a friend of his. Meanwhile, the aforementioned wanker has informed the rest of the band that he can only pay them half the agreed fee because of the disastrous start to the gig. Musician A overhears this and has a few words which results in full payment.
Months later, Musician A sighs without any great surprise when he finds out that the aforementioned bollox has been sent to jail for another scam gone wrong.
Why have I shared this anecdote with you? Well, because the aforementioned toerag is now quite the man about town. Since his release he’s blagged himself into all sorts of business enterprises. He can be seen in his pinstripe suit trying to look important but only achieving pathetic. Not only this, but he has been asked to lecture on Media Studies and Event Management at a local college. There is his fat, smiling, smarmy head in the local rag. Does he feel any shame? Fuck no. What will his students learn? How to scam the fuck out of people.
Here’s a little tip about Event Management from me to the aforementioned arsehole: When you’re setting up a gig, don’t use all of the venue’s beer barrels to make a stage for the band. Beer runs out and, when that happens, punters get angry. That’s right; the aforementioned puss bucket once almost had a riot on his hands when the venue ran out of beer. The band was in full flow and had a couple of tons of equipment on top of the entire reserve of beer barrels. How’s that for event fucking management. It just goes to show once again that, in this country, the fucking criminal gets ahead every fucking time. Why is it that, to be a success, you must also be a giant piece of fucking shit?
If you, as a potential employer, saw the following ad in a paper, would you pursue it?
Seeking Employment:Idiotic, fat, greedy twat seeking employment. I have no basic skills - human or otherwise. On the upside, I don’t care about who I stand on in order to get ahead. I’m completely devoid of talent and, like as not, I’ll rob you blind the second you turn your back on me but I have a neck like a jockey’s bollox. I would prefer a position as a manager - or even director or president. Again, I’m a useless, talentless, sychophantic, loudmouthed convicted criminal. Hire me; you know you want to.
Enough said.
If you have successfully identified the aforementioned skid-mark on the porcelain of society and do not want to leave a comment; please email me at jpdunleavey@gmail.com.

My trusty reporter, Pablo - known in the Pirate fraternity as Four Nipple Jake - sent me this damning proof that that ol idiot, President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is actually a hypocrite too.

On Wednesday I’ll be thirty eight and Stevie Ray Vaughan should be fifty. So, forget about me, it should be Stevie Ray Vaughan’s fiftieth birthday. When you look at how visibly plastic music is, everything that’s relevant becomes a value. Here’s a guy who never claimed allegiance to a fad; he gave the world passion and genius and he and I share a birthday. Fuck me; happy birthday Stevie Ray.

There’s a rant I have to render - and render it I shall - but I have to calm myself first. I want to believe that music matters. I want to believe that, amongst all of us, there is heartbeat that resides solely for music. The tale of Darth Woulfe will follow shortly - or maybe longly - but, for now, I have to console myself with genius. I would love everyone to hear Dave Irwin singing Tom Waits but here’s a song that never fails to calm me. Music has become a joke. Let’s remember a time when it wasn’t.