Captain Purplehead

Oh don’t break out the ticker tape and bunting yet, there’s life in the ol Cap’n yet. No, this post is about the ridiculous trade restriction that is closing time.
If you’re going to go on about irresponsible drinking or alcoholism, you’re reading the wrong post. If you live in a country where there is no closing time, you might find this of interest anyway.
Let me start by saying that, here in Limerick, our local authority is pretty much useless. We have a Mayor who insists on embarrassing himself – and, by association, us – every time someone sticks a microphone in his face. We have a small criminal element, that cheap, tabloid journalists like Donal McIntyre and others seem to think is the sum total of our city. All of this means that it has been left to individual, concerned people to make a concerted effort to put a more positive spin on things. The community that has risen to the challenge is none other than the artistic community.
I’m not going to go into everything that has been organised by them because that would be one long post but one thing that has definitely put Limerick more firmly on the map is the proliferation of original bands and venues who are prepared to run gigs for them.
Last Thursday night, there was a rich and varied choice of entertainment in Limerick. It is something we haven’t seen for a while and should have been embraced by those in authority. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of our bars and venues, the night was to end in embarrassment as the Gards – (the Irish Police) – were sent out in force to raid pubs, shortly after closing time. It wasn’t just that they came in and cleared all the bars of law-abiding citizens who had just enjoyed a few pints and a gig; they parked their estate cars across the roads, making it look like the city was on full riot alert. In doing this, they put hundreds of people on the streets at exactly the same time. Some of them were drunk, and the combination of crowds, inebriation and youth is potentially a powder keg combination.
Ok, their argument will be that it is technically illegal to be in licensed premises after 12 o’clock, unless that premises has paid big money for an exemption. They won’t talk about how these raids have only started happening on this scale very recently. They also won’t talk about the fact that one pub doesn’t get raided because some of their colleagues like to drink there. They won’t talk about the fact that the practice of raiding pubs is archaic, ridiculous and utterly moronic. They well quote the letter of the law. In reality, it’s probably just some little dictator who is trying to make a name for himself in our police farce. They are entitled to quote the law because that law exists. My point is that it really shouldn’t.
Why do we have a closing time? It is the greatest contributor to binge drinking that we have. If a pub wants to stay open until 4 in the morning, or whenever, why shouldn’t they be allowed to? Isn’t it really just a restriction of trade? Of course, our learned government Ministers will harp on about how we need to break our drinking culture for the good of our health. Invariably, the clergy will then be asked to chime in with their tuppence worth and they’ll go on about the destruction of the family and the absence of God and other such whimsical bullshit that they aren’t qualified to spout. In the end, it’s all bullshit!
If an alcoholic is going to stay out all night boozing, you’re just not going to be able to stop them. Maybe you have a better chance of simply refusing them at the bar, rather than let them go home, where there really is no closing time. Also, if they really want to get themselves good and tanked, they can go to the pub early in the morning. Surely it’s more damaging to society to have people falling out of pubs at six in the evening, rather than six in the morning, no? I mean, how many people would stay out until six in the morning anyway? It’s really not the point, in any case.
The pub trade in Ireland is in decline because of our thoroughly pummelled ecconomy. People don’t have the disposable income they once had. This has hit an already fraught industry quite hard. A pub opens early and closes early. Traditionally, they only other option is to go to a club or a late bar, which is still only licensed up to 2am, which is a bit ridiculous, really. What about those people who wouldn’t mind a quiet pint and a chat at 1 or 2am? Where do they go? I’ll tell you where a lot of them go. They go home and sometimes they go home with their mates and drink all night anyway. Therefore, drink isn’t the problem here because you can have a house party every night of the week and never go to bed, if you so wish. The pub has to close at a time when they would probably make more money than at any other time. We like to go out at night. That’s when people go out!
The government needs a bigger tax take to pay for its own criminality and ineptitude and that of their banker buddies, yet they put archaic, nanny-state policies in the way of trade. Trade = tax revenue! Apart from the obvious revenue stream, there’s the added bonus of more employment. More bar staff, more bouncers. Cab drivers making, and spending, more money, people being generally happier because they aren’t being hounded by little country boy sergeants with a Stormin Norman complex.
These pub raids cannot possibly be of any benefit to anyone except the man who bizarrely gets the credit for them. They cause bad feeling and put way too many people on the street at exactly the same time. This is what you get in Ireland though. We get idiots placed in to positions of power they really can’t handle. You see it in every level of society in this country. We are possessed of more than our fair share of idiots, dictators, God warriors, numpties and morons in this country. Someday it will change. I doubt that I’ll be around to see it but it has to come.

This is going to be a short post – (well, hopefully. I’m never quite able to judge these things, as I never plan, I just rant) – about a growing and arrogant group of people. I was standing outside a pub a few months ago and a guy I never met before offered me a joint. Now, I’ve got nothing against smoking hash. It’s pretty harmless, to be honest. I do have an enormous problem with some of the people who spend most of every day smoking it because it’s non-addictive.
Let’s just start with that fallacy. Ok, it’s not essentially addictive in the same way as heroin is but its absolute nonsense to say it’s non-addictive. Sunday driving is addictive to some people. Wanking is addictive to others and smoking hash is addictive, in habit, to a lot of others. To say its not addictive is like saying the Irish government is competent.
Ok, so that’s out of the way then. This benevolent stranger starts with, “how’s it going?” He then takes a long luxuriant toke from his joint and says, “Here, check this weed out. It’s fucking great”. I thought it to be a nice friendly gesture but I, nevertheless, declined by saying, “Nah, you’re grand, thanks”.
‘Don’t you smoke,’ says he.
‘Not really,’ says I.
‘Why not?’ asketh the benevolent stranger.
‘I just don’t,’ I replied. “I’ve nothing against it and I don’t dislike it, I just prefer a pint”.
‘That’s a drug too,’ informeth this paragon of generosity.
‘I know’, I replied, beginning to get a little irked by his Mrs Doyle behaviour.
‘It’s more addictive than weed,’ says he.
‘No it isn’t,’ I replied.
‘How do you make that out?’ this now very annoying stranger asks.
‘When was the last time you spent a day without smoking a joint?’ I probed.
The stranger spits out a hoarse guffaw, followed by a good ten second coughing fit into the sleeve of his shirt, before saying, ‘Probably twenty odd years, man’.
‘So how do you know it’s not addictive?’ I asked.
‘Because it just isn’t,’ he replied indignantly.
‘How do you know?’ I asked.
‘Because I do,’ he replied, now beginning to regret his initiation of our discourse.
‘But this is my first pint in about two weeks. I don’t generally drink during the week so how can you say that pints are more addictive than smoking hash?’ I asked.
‘Look at all the alcoholics,’ was his well thought out reply.
‘That’s a bit different. They are people who crave drink every day. Even at that, I would say that most alcoholics wouldn’t have had a drink every day for the past twenty odd years,’ I replied.
Now, clearly miffed, my new friend says, ‘They’re still alcoholics. In fact, they’re the socially accepted drug addicts’
‘I beg to differ,’ I countered politely, ‘alcoholism has never been socially acceptable. In fact, possibly the only socially acceptable form of addiction is drug addiction…’ I offered.
‘What are you…’ he interjected.
The carrot had been dangled and this benevolent moron had gone for it like a rabid donkey, before I interrupted him with, ‘prescription drug addiction, of course’.
That had him fuming. He didn’t really push me on that but continued with the line that all of these peace loving hippy hash smokers use; ‘You are paying a corporation like Heineken to get richer and they don’t give a fuck about you. All they do is add chemicals to the beer and you drink it up like a good little soldier, don’t you!’
‘Yes I do,’ was my simple reply.
‘So you admit it then?’ he said, eyes dancing with glee as he now thought he had drawn first blood.
‘Yes,’ I replied, not even bothering to point out that he himself was drinking a pint of Guinness, ‘Heineken provide quite a lot of employment, which helps the economy. They also produce a beer that I quite like to drink. They don’t hide the fact that there are chemicals in their beer but they don’t always publicise that their beer contains less chemicals than any of the other leading lager brands. So, in answer to your question, yes I am paying a corporation for their product, every time I go to the pub.’
‘And you don’t find anything wrong with that?’ Adolf Poppins inquired.
‘No,’ I replied, ‘I find nothing wrong with it at all. Now, since we’ve cleared that up, would you like to answer a couple of questions of mine?’
‘Fire away,’ he replied, getting settled in for a good debate.
‘Ok, tell me, why do you think there’s so much violent crime in Ireland?’ I asked.
‘Because the economy is fucked and it was corporations like Heineken that fucked it up,’ he answered.
‘I’m pretty sure that Heineken had absolutely nothing to do with the collapse of the economy, unless it was responsible for the erosion of Bertie Ahern’s soul, but I would go some way to agreeing that economic pressure has increased crime in general but violent crime rose exponentially during the boom years, so I don’t think you can really blame it on the economy. So, tell me, who are the people committing these crimes?’ I asked.
‘Fucking scumbags?’ replied my now chastened new friend.
‘That’s right,’ I replied, in possibly an overly condescending fashion. ‘ So, how come all the scumbags drive around in new cars and have every comfort they desire?’
‘They fucking rob everyone,’ my friend informed me, now getting a little more antsy and requiring a larger but not so luxuriant toke of his joint.
‘That’s partly the reason,’ I replied, ‘but what’s the real reason?’
‘They’re fucking scumbags. Murdering scumbags,’ he announced.
‘Again, no argument there,’ said I, ‘but being a scumbag doesn’t automatically entitle you to a pimped out Mercedes with bulletproof windows,’
‘Yeah,’ my new friend spat, ‘but they’re drawing every penny they can out of the government and they’re getting away with it.
‘Right again,’ I said, ‘but that hardly explains the lifestyle and possession they enjoy. Where do they get all of this money?’ I asked.
‘They control the fucking drug trade,’ my new friend exclaimed in a burgeoning ball of fury.
‘Nail on the head, my friend,’ I replied. ‘That is exactly right. Now tell me this, do you grow your own weed?’
‘Do in my fuck,’ he replies, ‘I get it from a fella down the road.’
‘Oh, so he grows his own dope?’ I asked.
‘Does in his fuck,’ my new friend pouted.
‘Ok, so let’s cut to the chase here. You get your hash from someone who is supplied by a fucking scumbag because they control the drug trade, right?’
‘I don’t know where he gets it from,’ my friend replies.
‘Is it safe to assume that he didn’t get it from the Dalai Lama?’ I asked and, when no reply was forthcoming, continued; ‘chances are that your money is helping to bullets in the guns that may have been used to kill an innocent person at some stage, or maybe threaten an eye witness or two?’
‘You can’t say that,’ my buddy fumed.
‘Maybe not,’ I replied, ‘but will you at least admit that there is every chance that that in fact is the case and, in admitting that, you must also admit that my support of a company that provides employment, tax revenue and a damn fine beer is ever more dignified than your support of a knuckle-dragging thug, who has blood on his hands?’
‘Fuck off, you cunt,’ my, now not very peace loving, new friend spat.
‘I’m just enjoying my pint, buddy,’ I replied, before basking in the sight of him downing his pint of Guinness, rivulets of tar black porter and foam running out either side of his mouth, before storming off up the street
So, there you have it. Not quite as short as I promised, but hey, I’m a cunt. I don’t care what you take to suspend reality a bit, but please don’t judge my choice.

Yep, it’s that simple and there are a variety of reasons for it. Hopefully this will be a short enough post. I’m not going to go into some conspiracy theory fuelled rant; I’m simply going to give you the facts as I see them and my reasons for this bleak statement.
Ok, firstly there’s the financial situation. A lot of greedy cunts took a lot of stupid gambles and, while they retain their opulent standards, we have to pick up the bill for their utter idiocy and greed. The reason this doesn’t change is not because we must rely on people to fix the economy but because we have to rely on the same thick, arse reaming, fucking morons who broke it in the first place. Look at it this way:
You bring your car to a mechanic, citing problems with the brakes.
The mechanic gives you back your car and tells you he’s not only fixed it but he has improved the whole braking system. To be sure of this, he passed it by his boss to quality check his work and he signed it off as fucking perfect and the mechanic got a big juicy raise and a bonus for a job well done.
Later that day, you are travelling right on the speed limit when a truck jack-knifes ahead of you. You have plenty of time to stop so you apply your new improved braking system but it fails utterly and you lose an arm and a leg in the resultant crash.
Do you go back to that mechanic and ask him to fix it again or do you report him, his boss and the entire company for criminal fucking negligence?
If we follow this analogy to its conclusion, the mechanic, his boss and his company get a cash injection from the government and you get to pay back investors who gambled on the competence of the company. You also get to pay for the truck you crashed into after you’ve cleaned up the mess from the wreckage.
Are we fucked? Are you with me yet?

So, ok, that’s nothing new. We all know we’re fucked financially. We all know we’ll continue to be fucked by our leaders. But we’re fucked in a whole different way too.
If some fucking nutjob Islamic fundamentalist wants to prove a point, he will normally blow up a lot of innocent people who he considers to be infidels. Yep, you guessed it, it’s us.
If some fucking nutjob, Christian fundamentalist wants to prove a point to Islamic fundamentalists, he blows up and shoots people who he considers responsible for inviting too many cultures, including Muslims, into the west. Yep, you guessed it, it’s us again!

We can’t fucking win!

Ok, I feel that posting lupins in an earlier post worked in heading off those easliy offended from reading what lay beneath the picture. Unfortunately, today’s particular bug bear is a lot more potent than the previous one and so I feel that lupuns might not be sufficient distraction. To this end I’ve decided to go with chrysantemums. So, if you’re easily offended by aggressive, heartfelt, deep and varied profanity, I suggest you just take a look at these lovely flowers and then fuck off and read one of Ronan Keatings biographies or something. Follow that by a light lunch and a soak in a bubble bath before snuggling up to your favourite teddy bear and pretending everything’s ok with the world.

There you go. Now, if you’re still reading this after the very clear warning above… well, you’re a fucking moronic cunt, aren’t ya. There will be no more warnings.
Here’s a couple of perfectly acceptable jokes to illustrate the points I’m about to make:
Q. Why did the Paddy stick a screw driver in his eye?
A. Because he’s a thick Irish fucking cunt”.

An Irishman walks into a bar. The barman says, “Fuck off, you fucking Irish moron”.

Aghast, are you? Well you shouldn’t be. Ireland is now officially a fucking joke. Not just that, we’re intent on letting the world know that we’re thick fucking cunts.

The Queen recently visited Ireland and I’ve nothing against that. I wasn’t all that interested but I think it was a good thing. Nothing at all to say on that. Yes there were a few thick fucking cunts who protested but, what do you expect, they’re Irish. She spoke to us in Irish and she even ignored her doddering racist husband and all went well from a British point of view. What went wrong was when we decided to entertain her. Mary Byrne is an slightly above average pub singer but she’s not an artist and she doesn’t write her own material, yet she was chosen to entertain the Queen. Similarly, Westlife, who in any other country would have been reminded long before now that their fifteen annoying fucking minutes is well and truly fucking up, aren’t artists. They’re manufactured by the evil gimp, Louis Walsh and they too were chosen to entertain the Queen.
No big deal you might say, if you’re a thick Irish cunt. Y’know, you might be right. For all I know the Queen got a wet on for the lads, I don’t fucking know. Maybe she secretly listens to Cradle of Filth or Megadeath behind closed doors. That isn’t the point though. We had a chance to celebrate our creative culture but we decided to wheel out those who haven’t contributed anything whatsoever.
Ok, so Obama comes to visit. Now we must be reserving particular hatred for him because, in addition to Westlife, we are inflicting The Saw Doctors and Jedward on him and his wife. For fuck’s sake! What in the name of fuck is going on in this fucking country? Is that the impression we want to give the world? Representatives of the two countries who gave us the best popular music ever are treated to two fucking prancing clowns and a shower of fucking smarmy, plastic morons? Really? I mean what fucking arse reaming son of a bastarding cunt came up with that fucking idea? Ok, I don’t like the Saw Doctors but they could - and did - choose worse.
England gave us The Beatles, The Stones and so many other brilliant fucking bands and we give the fucking Jedward? There are actual artists in this country but it must have escaped our attention because we’re THICK FUCKING IRISH CUNTS!
America gave us so much more. Elvis, Johnny Cash, Hendrix and countless other musical lumiaries and we give them four preening fucking maggots singing covers of songs that Bette Midler covered? Is this really the best we could’ve done?
I don’t give a fucking toss about Obama’s politics or the pointlessness of the Queen; the eyes of the world have been on Ireland and what is the best we can come up with in terms of cultural entertainment? THICK IRISH FUCKING CUNTS!

Ok, for those of you of a delicate disposition or an intolerance of profanity, I advise you to read no further. I’m not joking. I’m about to really go off on one, so please read no further if you’re easily offended by the truth explained in a rabidly profane fashion.
Here’s a picture of some lovely lupins to distract you from the angst that lies below.

Ok, I’ve had more than fucking enough of fucking political correctness. If I want to call someone a cunt, I’m going to call that person a cunt and, whilst it’s not meant to offend women, I don’t fucking care if anyone gets offended because the modern world has become more than fucking offensive. Take, for example, the Catholic Church. They have facilitated and covered up child rape and child murder for God knows how long and people still go to fucking mass and kiss the fucking bishop’s ring - sometimes literally. Why is it that, when a parent or a stranger, a fucking teacher or a fucking uncle rapes a child, it’s called child abuse but when a priest does it, it’s called Clerical Abuse? What the fuck? Has the world gone fucking mad. In one case it’s the child being abused and in the other it’s the fucking priest? WHAT? It’s child rape! Get it? They didn’t call the children they raped nasty names and left it at that. They raped them and sometimes killed them. That is NOT clerical abuse. Clerical abuse is what will fucking happen if I’m ever let loose on those insipid, pious, perverted and utterly vile fucking scumbags. That will be abuse of fucking epic proportions.
It makes me so fucking angry that we have to walk on eggshells for fear of insulting someone or hurting someone’s feelings. FUCK THAT! Think about it. The most inane fucking law ever created was the blasphemy law. And why do we have a fucking stupid, cunt of a blasphemy bastarding law? Is it because the fucking government all got together around a campfire, sang Byrds songs and Kumbaya - or whatever it’s called - and decided we should all be nice to eachother? Not on your fucking hairy left one. It’s because everyone’s afraid of Muslims since they rioted in Denmark over a fucking cartoon. A FUCKING CARTOON! Those fucking thick cunts. I wonder what normal Muslims think of it all? I wonder to they condone suicide bombings and violence? Not a fucking chance. In fact, the blasphemy law is probably a bigger embarrassment to them than it is to anyone fucking else!
We have to fucking listen to suited fucking cunts telling us that we have to be nice to eachother. We can’t be sexist and we have to say “he or she” whenever we say anything fucking general. Example: “he or she may or may not have called her teddy bear mohammed.” What they’re really saying is that women are meek fucking idiots who can’t speak up for themselves. BOLLOX! When’s the last time you met a meek woman? I’m all for equality but I am dead fucking against stupidity! Fuck right off with that shit. I will not add one more fucking cunting bastarding sylable that I don’t want to fucking add, simply because some fucking arse-reaming bastard in a fucking suit told me to. FUCK OFF!
Ok, I’ve got myself all worked up now so I’m off for a smoke. If you feel like calling me a cunt for anything I’ve said here, please feel free, I don’t fucking care. One thing though, read the thing and recognise the context before you fucking go off on one.
For those of you who read the fucking warning at the start and still read to this point and have found yourselves offended; well, thick cunts, aren’t ye.

All of our great ideas, plans, schemes and progression seem to have hurtled us towards the edge of an abyss. Ok, so that may seem like a sweeping generalisation, and it is, but let’s just take a moment to look at the root of our problems. It’s hard to look beyond greed as the principal symptom of the disease. Some of us worship talentless, plastic puppets and we ooh and aah at their obscenely opulent lifestyle. Some people rely on these so-called celebrities for their daily dose of what they will never have. For some, it’s a brief and banal suspension of reality. For others it’s a source of their depression. For others it’s a pointless and unachievable aspiration that very often leaves them in financial ruin. For the rest of us, it’s a pathetic joke.

Devour is a good word. The western world has a habit of devouring natural resources. Oil is the big one and that’s running out. You’d think that the more we devour, the more wary we’d get but that is clearly not the case. The amount of money put into medical research is a fraction of the amount put into researching better and more efficient ways of killing each other. So, is the western world eating itself? Well judging by the state of the carcass, I’d say we tucked in quite a while ago. In Ireland, well, it’s common knowledge that we’ve a made a complete arse of things but it’s the same, pretty much, across Europe and America. The big boys don’t get eaten. They eat everyone else. In Ireland, we eat our young, elderly and infirm. We build big housing estates where honest people get stuck and criminals thrive.
Actually, look at that last sentence and ask yourself who needs to be protected in that scenario. Well, it’s the criminals that we protect because the bigger, more socially acceptable criminals recognise the needs of their own. No one protects the innocent, the honest and the victims. If you mention anything else, you’ll have a chorus of “we need to rehabilitate those poor, misguided souls”. Well, fuck off. Seriously! Just stop! They’re not misunderstood, they don’t fucking care about anyone but themselves. Anyway, we already know all that. Even the whinging little fucking “help the poor criminal” brigade know that but they can’t reprogram themselves for reality. Of course, this will happen organically as soon as they start being directly affected by criminals. They won’t be long changing to the “hang the brutes” brigade. Fucking whinging maggots!
So the west eats itself. We just get greedier. People don’t care what happens to them as long as politicians are saying it’s necessary. They can always turn on their TVs and let Simon Cowell and Louis Walsh tell them how to think. It’s pathetic but its par for the course, when you’re slowly and unbeknownst to yourself, being eaten.
Communism anyone? Nah, it doesn’t work simply because greed always gets its way.
Socialism? Give me a break. Normally these idealistic zealots, spouting socialism from the high stool are too caught up in their own egos for socialism to have any chance. In theory, yes. In practice, it has never worked.
Capitalism? Well, look where that’s got us.
Here’s the bad news. There isn’t a system that will work because people are inherently bad. I’m sorry, but it’s true. The need to adapt, develop and progress prohibits any of the aforementioned isms.
Do I have the answer? No, this is just a rant.

The wonderful genius that is Eamon Hehir wrote song called Cat Stevens Grow a Brain and it’s a song I’ve requested from him on many an oul occasion. I share the belief that Cat is cat but also a blithering idiot. Recently, while happily ensconced in a local hostelry, continuing my attempt to drink Loch Eireann, a fellow customer slid from his stool and ambled over to the jukebox. I’m normally wracked with fear when this happens because invariably the choice is either some pathetic Irish act like The Wolfetones or Bagatelle. This was different. It was annoying but different. The guy selected Cat Stevens. He selected two songs; Father and Son and Moon Shadow.
Why, you may well ask, am I telling you this? Well, as is my way, I began to muse about the abject contradiction that is Cat Stevens. Indulge me a little, if you will.
Cat now prefers to be called Yusuf Islam and, as he supported the fatwa against Salman Rushdie, one can only assume that he is now an Islamic fundamentalist. Given that fact, the two aforementioned songs resonate in a darkly hilarious manner. Father and Son is a poignant retelling of a conversation between a father and a son. The father is imparting his wisdom to his wayward boy. Now, from an Islamic fundamentalist point of view, the father may be advising his son to strap explosives to himself and drive into crowded market. Not so poignant all of a sudden. The humour doesn’t come from that song but from the lighter second song, in which the lyrics say “If I ever lose my legs”, “If I ever lose my hands” and so forth. Maybe it’s just me, but I just found these songs are works of contradiction, given Cat’s chosen beliefs. I am an agnostic and the thought of some cosmic being, sitting on a cloud and making a list of whose naughty and nice, is just as hilarious as the thought that if you purposely blow yourself up in a crowd of innocent people, you will please your God and will be rewarded with big bag of virgins. Amazing, really. I’m not saying that all Muslims are evil. In fact I’ve never subscribed to that belief. Most are honest, hardworking people who have no interest in the extremist wing of their faith. Islamic extremists are evil, plain and simple. Like Catholics, they are terrified of women and of sex, yet they can have an out and out orgy once they die for their perceived cause. Contradictions again.
So, to help Cat - the idiot - out, I have rewritten Father and Son for him by subsituting the son’s bits with verses from Moonshadow.

Father and Son (The Islamic Fundamentalist version).

Father
It’s the time to do your bit,
Just relax, take it easy.
You’re still young, and you can drive,
That is all you have to know.
Here’s some semtex in a shirt,
Just strap it on and go now.
Look at me, I am old, but I’m happy.

I was once like you are now, and I know that it’s not easy,
To be calm when you’ve found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Why, think of everything you’ve got.
For I will still be here tomorrow, but you will not.

Son
and if I ever lose my hands
lose my plough, lose my land
oh, if I ever lose my hands
oh, well…
I won’t have to work no more
and if I ever lose my eyes
If my colours all run dry
yes, if I ever lose my eyes
oh well …

Father
Look, it’s the time to do your bit,
Just sit down, take it slowly.
You’re still young, so you must kill the infidels
There’s not much you have to go through.
Strap on the bomb, close your coat.
if you want you can pray now.
Look at me, I am old, but I’m happy.

(Son– Away Away Away, I know I have to
Make this decision alone - no)
and if I ever lose my legs
I won’t moan and I won’t beg
oh if I ever lose my legs
oh well…
I won’t have to walk no more
And if I ever lose my mouth
all my teeth, north and south
yes, if I ever lose my mouth
oh well…

So there you have it, Cat Stevens is a moron.

Where do I fucking start with this fucking week? As you know, I’m normally a calm and reasonable pirate. I don’t fly off the handle without good reason but, fuck me sideways; this week really fucking took the fucking biscuit.
First of all, you have that interminably horrible and vacuous Lady Gaga. The fact that she wins awards for her fucking pitiful attempts at making music is bad enough but she arrives wearing a dress made out of meat. She calls it carnivore couture. What a fucking waste of oxygen that woman is. It’s easy to shock people. It requires no talent or intelligence whatsoever. Similarly, writing songs about having no signal on your phone in a nightclub or a song containing the lyrics ‘ra ra rom rom ra ra rom rom ra ga ga rome ga ga’ requires little to no talent. Putting a catchy melody behind these pieces of shit is also quite easy. I’m thoroughly fucking sick of this woman. In fact, I’m so sick of her that I briefly smiled when I saw the picture of that disgusting dress because for the briefest moment, I thought someone had just disembowelled the whinging fucking dipshit.
I don’t fucking care if she has a fucking penis. I don’t care that she hates animals. I don’t want to hear about her, see her or hear her useless fucking music. Lady Gaga is a fucking persistent floater in the toilet bowl of life and it boggles the mind that she is as popular as she is. There, fucking week is off to a flying fucking start.
We then come to Conor Lenihan, our minister for science who decided to help his friend launch an anti-theory of evolution book! WHAT???? Ok, the first thing that came to my mind was, this is fucking typical Ireland. You appoint a relative of our minister for finance as a junior minister and you ignore the fact that his IQ is struggling to claw its way out of the minus scale. Fucking hell! A minister for science assisting in a publication that suggests that some cosmic magician said “HEY PRESTO” and there we were - a readymade civilisation.
The second thing that occurred to me was, what kind of fucking publishing company even consider publishing such a book. Must be some church-funded shower of cunts.
The third thing that occurred to me was this: MINISTER FOR SCIENCE???? Why does a country that can’t pay its bills have a minister for science? This just goes to show that budget cuts absolutely need to start at the top. No Junior Ministers, NO Senate. In fact, we could run the country on about 12 ministries. Cut their ridiculous wages to around 40 grand a year with NO EXPENSES! Fuck me, this is hardly rocket science - just ask Conor Lenihan.
Ok, so Conor got his job through sheer and unadulterated nepotism and this is one of the many problems we have in this country. Jobs for the boys.
‘Any chance of a job, Bertie? I am your 2nd cousin twice removed, after all?’
‘A…a…a…a…a, well there’s a job going in de canteen, like.’
‘Ah jaysus no, I don’t want to work. I was tinkin more along the lines of being a minister.’
‘Jaysus, I don’t know about that, like’
‘Ah go on, will ya. Give me some ministry where I don’t really have to do antin.’
‘Dere isn’t one available though.’
‘Make one up, then. What about minister for pots and pans?’
‘A…a… a… well, we’d have to make you minister for one or the other. Like, Milly from down the road is lookin for a job too and you’re taking up two ministries there, like. Pick one or t’other.’
‘Ahhhmmmm. Pots so… No, pans.’
‘You sure now, like.’
‘Hmmm, yeah, yeah.’
‘Right, pans it is then. You’ll start of on 150 grand a year with 50 grand unvouched expenses. Say nattin, like, and let’s hope we don’t have some kind of pan crisis.’
‘Deadly!’
Not as far from the truth as you might think. That’s how our inept government works.

Of course, we couldn’t talk about this week without talking about our utter arse of a leader. Brian Cowen gave a shite interview on Morning Ireland this week and was accused of being drunk on air. Now, I’ve since heard the interview and I would definitely say that he wasn’t drunk but was really hungover. Now, this is not the part of the whole thing that annoyed me. What annoyed me is that he was out singing, drinking and telling jokes while he and his cronies were supposed to be working out a way to get us through the problems they helped create. They were supposed to be at a THINK-IN! Puh-lease! A fucking think in? The same shower of thick, corrupt cunts that royally fucked up this country decide that if they think really hard, they will be able to undo all the harm without offending the people who protect the closets that their many skeletons are in. It’s a fucking sick joke! You then have that creepy, horrible little fucking bint, Mary Hanafin, saying that he wasn’t drinking. For fuck’s sake, when to the lies stop and when are they going to realise that we don’t ever believe their fucking lies?

Last, but certainly not least, you cannot pick up a paper or switch on a TV without seeing ol’ Pope Ratzo’s visage. Blanket coverage is being given to this wanker’s visit to Britain. It was initially in jeopardy because they didn’t have a suitable Popemoblie. I mean, back in the forties, the guy was hoping to head to Britain in a fucking tank, for fuck’s sake.
Why give so much coverage to a man who protects people who rape children? Don’t give me this pc bullshit about child abuse; it’s rape! He has covered up for people who have raped children. Think about that. What the fuck is he doing visiting anywhere? He doesn’t care about children. He only cares about the sanctity of the corrupt institution that keeps him in the lap of fucking luxury, living in the most obscenely opulent environment you could imagine. Fuck off, Ratzo and fuck off, Sky. Stop giving this cunt all this coverage. Why not sit him down and ask him the tough questions?
What a fucking week!

I’ve been hearing the words “culture” and “respect” used in the same sentence quite a lot recently and it makes me wonder how much you can actually get away with in the name of culture.
The thing that got me thinking about this is those horribly annoying vuvuzelas at the World Cup. Apparently they can’t be banned because they are part of African culture. Now, excuse me, but music is a rich part of African culture and their music is beautiful, colourful, full of energy melody and equal measures of hopeful and heart-rending harmonies. The vuvuzela, on the other hand, issues a monotone, which surely flies in the face of music itself. How can you have one part of a nation’s culture insulting another and still use the defence that “it’s part of our culture”?
FIFA are a ridiculous organisation and I expected nothing more of them than to cave and refuse to ban these fucking annoying plastic, droning monstrosities. They come across all magnanimous but really they’re nothing more than useless.
Another part of African culture is female genital mutilation. Often called female circumcision or introcistion, its sole purpose is to prevent the female from enjoying sex. There’s no other reason for it. Y’see, in a lot of cultures the men are terrified of women. They seek to dehumanise them to the point where they are nothing more than sexual aids.
Ok, so we don’t have people mutilating women’s genitals in the stands at the World Cup but it is another atrocity covered by the Culture defence. It’s our culture. We’ve been doing it for years. You can’t stop us doing it now. Ok, it’s the twenty first fucking century, you fucking moron. We no longer burn people for being witches. We no longer think the world is flat. Cop the fuck on.
Now, before you call me a racist for dwelling on African culture, please read on and try to get the point. Most Africans do not practice female genital mutilation. Most Africans that I’ve met are decent, hard working people. And the Culture Defence is not indigenous to Africa. We have it right here in Ireland.

The rural community have many bizarre rituals which they like to defend as part of their culture. Most involve cruelty to animals. We have coursing, which involves a live hare running from greyhounds, for instance, but I’ve gone on about that at length before and it does actually look like blood sports like this will be banned. Ireland generally has a terrible attitude towards animal welfare and welfare centres aren’t supported by the government.

The main thrust of this rant revolves around an incident that happened right here in Limerick a couple of weeks ago. So, while we’re on the subject of animal welfare, let’s get straight to the point and state that the travelling community have absolutely no respect for animals but they claim to need them as part of their cultures. Having been given houses by the Irish government, they insisted on using them as stables in quite a few halting sites. Ok, so it sounds nice to have a fully furnished home for your horse but that’s not really what the meant. They just wanted the shells of these houses for horses that they whip to within an inch of their lives. Right, so they were eventually persuaded to live in the houses, which I think is a terrible crime against their culture. They’re the travelling community. Giving them halting sites is fine. I mean, it’s better than when they used to just pull up outside your door and wreck your neighbourhood.

Ok, so at this point, the people who were hell-bent on calling me a racist are getting their comments ready. So, before I continue, let me just explain. I’m white and so are they. I choose to live in a house and respect the rights of those around me. They choose to live where they like and respect nobody. That is the main difference between us. Unlike those liberal clones in their leafy suburbia, I am not neglecting their right to be cunts and I’m not saying that every single one of them is a fucking criminal; just an abnormally high percentage.

So back to the point. The travelling community are renowned for stealing pet dogs, especially small dogs, so that they can give their own pit bulls and other neglected animals the requisite bloodlust for when they hold dog fights. This isn’t a rumour, ladies and gentlemen, this is a fucking fact. If you get there in time, you may be allowed to buy your beloved pet back but quite often it’s too late. Some pedigrees are stolen and sold on and, if they are chipped, the chip is crudely and painfully removed. Oh but its part of our culture? Fuck that for a culture.

So, I’m sure by now you’re curious about the aforementioned incident. Well, here it goes.
In plassey, quite close to one of their halting sites, is an industrial estate. It’s largely abandoned due to the Irish government’s culture of lining their own pockets and letting the country go to shite, so there are quite a few green areas. There’s also a route down to the river where people can go walking.
In full view of two companies that the government has yet to dispense with, two sulkies pulled up face to face. I should explain that a sulky is a horse drawn mode of transport that consists of two wheels and a couple of seats on a metal frame so that higher speeds can be achieved. On each sulky there was an adult male and a male child of around 7 years of age. Once the sulkies came to a stop, the two children were made to fight eachother. Now there weren’t any cardboard swords and tinfoil armour involved. This was a bare knuckle fist fight. This wasn’t handbags at twenty paces. This was a full on fist fight between two children. Within seconds, one child was on the ground and the other began to kick him in the head and body, all the while encouraged by the two adult travellers. It didn’t last long because some disgusted employees of both companies ran out and the children were roughly thrown back on the sulkies and the travellers - sorry, adult cunts - whipped their horses to life and vacated the scene. The child who was bloodied and beaten was then thrown from the sulky he was on and left to make his own way home.
Now, you try to fucking register your disgust about this and you’re told that bare knuckle fighting is part of their culture. Is it acceptable to nurture violence in kids? What fucking chance do these kids have?
There are no laws to stop criminality in Ireland but there are plenty to keep the innocent, hard working people on their fucking knees. This is a disgusting ritual that needs to stop.
Just because you’ve been doing something antisocial for years is no excuse. We can’t allow these rituals to be perpetuated, simply because we don’t want to offend someone’s culture.
I fucking guarantee you that, if there was a culture that requires people to be naked on the first fucking Friday of every month. You’d have fucking Nora and her knitting group garnering the support of the government to put a stop to it. Fuck’s sake. I’m sick of the Culture defence.
There are some parts of culture that connect us to our past and should be preserved but not if they are deliberately harming other people or being needlessly cruel to animals.
If part of your culture requires you to beat and humiliate children then fuck you and your pathetic fucking culture.
How long before some scumbag says, “But yer honour, my father and his father and his father’s father were all proud stabbers and racist. It part of me culture, boss.”?
Here endeth the rant.

Before I took to the seas, I was a normal Irish child. Ok, normal might be stretching it a bit but I did the things that normal Irish kids do. I went to school, for instance. In my school days, the only Irish history we were taught was that the British were cunts. I firmly believe you would have been allowed to say the word cunt only if you were alluding to the British occupation of Ireland.
The Catholic Church had a firm grip of the education system at that stage and you invariably had to be schooled by a priest at some point. No priest interfered with me sexually but they did abuse my little mind. “Eight hundred years of torture!”. “We had to teach Irish in ditches… you feckin pup!” The same rhetoric over and over again about how the British were cunts. Not a thing about how Dev was one of the biggest cunts who ever walked. Not a thing about how successive governments were raping us. Not a fucking thing about how the clergy were raping children. All we heard was that the British are cunts.
Having been born in London to Irish parents, I came in for a bit of stick for being a cunt myself but not so much that I got a complex about it.

To be fair, calling the British cunts wasn’t all they did. They also taught us that it is wrong to lust after anyone. I remember kissing a girl at a Redemptorist disco - yep, I’m not making that up - and a priest came over and slapped me across the back of the head. You dirty pair of feckers. Cut that out now! Y’see, the clergy didn’t like anyone to display an act of love. I was just a lusty young man, leading a fair maiden astray. I can’t imagine what that arse reaming fucker might have said if he saw what we were up to in the back of the bus… The clergy were, and still are, obsessed with sex. It’s apparently wrong unless you’re a priest raping a child.
On another occasion I was thumped in the chest by a priest for looking at a girl in my class. The fucker knocked me out of my chair. Now, I’m not saying that I suffered abuse at the hands of the clergy because I didn’t. I was one of the lucky ones who walked through that minefield relatively unscathed. What I’m saying is this. The education system and the clergy are responsible for bring up a fucking generation of sexually frustrated terrorists. What good have they done? The only thing they’ve achieved is to put God out of reach of poor people. Now I’m not going to go into a big theological discussion about what I do or don’t believe but I will say that, for a lot of people, all they have is their faith and nobody has the right to take that away from them. The thing is that they blame everyone except the church for putting obstacles in the way of their faith, when it is exactly that morally bankrupt organisation that has been doing it all along.
End of Rant.