Captain Purplehead

In Ireland, it’s perfectly legal to fall out of a pub at twelve in the afternoon, absolutely bolloxed from drink. It’s frowned upon, but it’s absolutely legal. In fact, you can sit outside a pub, spouting profanities at random passersby, whilst in your cups, and there’s very little anyone can do about it… legally. It is, however illegal to have a few sociable night time pints while listening to live music at 2am.
‘Ok, we all know that, Cap’n. What’s the fucking point?’
Ok, it’s ok to fall around drunk while kids are still legally allowed to walk home from school or just be in our view but it’s absolutely verboten, to have an extra couple of pints after a gig!
Frankly, it’s fucking ridiculous! It makes no sense whatsoever. The idea is to allow each bar to trade for 12 hours per day, as long as the cease serving at 4am. It would solve so much. Yes, there’s a drink problem in this country but it should not prohibit sense! It should not be a restriction of trade.
In the “boom” years, it wasn’t a problem because there were many departments that did nothing. Regulatory bodies who spent their time going for elevenses and passing the time on Bebo. Some even went on extended leave so they could play golf more often. It didn’t matter because we were rich beyond our wildest dreams. You could take stress leave from your job as a regulator - presumably because you were bored from having nothing to do - and still qualify for a mortgage you couldn’t afford. In fact, because you worked for the government, you could phone in a mortgage request.
The problem was, they never really had any idea what they were employed to do. “Well, my father is a councillor/guard/TD/banker/property developer and I never really had to work so he/she/it got me this job and its one handy fucking number”. And that’s fine; they’re wanking to pictures of Princess Lea while we’re paying their wages but not being over-charged. Happy fucking days! Have a nice, unrewarding life and free valium for your retirement, you pointless fucker.
Suddenly there’s a recession. All the captains of industry have been found out to be really scratching their own privates. We’re fucked, through greed and incompetence and a slavish devotion to cloud people and fear. “Bollox! We’re going to have to justify our handy numbers, especially now that our fathers/brothers/sisters/aunts/uncles/grandparents are completely broke and under investigation!”
So what do these fucking, knuckle-dragging fucking stupid fucking moronic wankers do? They become pedantic. They don’t understand subtlety and the idea of a judgement call. They start raiding restaurants, pubs, shops and any other business they can claim travel expenses for walking to and they start closing them down. Yep, let’s regulate ourselves into deeper shit. Let’s fucking restrict revenue to the extent that we can put small businesses out of business. “Your kitchen is 5 centimetres too small. You will either have to pay to extend it, or close down”. Never mind MacDonalds who have perfectly appointed kitchens but no skilled staff!
“Me fahder was a gard, me mother was a gard and all de wans before them were gards and I’m here to tell you, I’m trying to make an oul name for meself before I get a plum job in Ballyfuckmesister and retire on a King’s ransom. Now, you miscreants are here having a pint, listening to a bit of live music. If ye don’t feck off out of it, I’ll arrest the lot of ye”
Fucking pond life!
Here’s the thing. I don’t blame them. They are too fucking utterly stupid and beholden to their culture of nepotism to ever get the point. These people are fucking morons. These people are utterly useless. They are the people who put people out of homes but give rapists and murders suspended sentences. Yes; this is Ireland, where 174 people served custodial sentences last year for default on loan and mortgage payments because of the incompetence and greed of our government, whose pensions we are still paying, and 4 rapists got suspended sentences. No time served for ruining someone’s life but a few weeks in prison for being foolish enough to buy into the lies that were told to us by our government. No, I don’t blame them. I don’t blame these people at all. They don’t understand the simple tenets of decency. They’re idiots.
So what is pissing me off at the moment? Well, the businesses that made huge profits in the boom, with inflated prices and admission fees, are now reporting new businesses to the idiotic regulatory bodies who are, in turn, quite thankful for the tip off, because they never would’ve been able to even form the idea of an investigation themselves. They aren’t reporting them for harbouring criminals. They aren’t reporting them for being troublesome. They are reporting them for being in direct competition. If they shared the wealth and said, “Let’s form an alliance, where we can provide proper entertainment but never clash with each other”, they would be fucking gifted. It would work. It would ensure a balance of trade, while providing a balanced variety of entertainment, where each venue could promote the idea. The main thing here is that, there would be trade.
The current template is destined to be temporary because Ireland will eventually eat itself through moronic greed. We don’t need a revolution as much as we need revolutionary thinking and behaviour. In all honesty, if we were to have a revolution tomorrow, there would be too many morons shooting off in too many different directions to make it valid.
STOP!!!! Think about the fact that you’re an idiot and try and change that. Just try and change the fact that you’re a fucking idiot. It all starts with acceptance.
Ireland is a stupid fucking country. Utterly stupid, with very little to recommend itself.
To finish, here’s one of my favourite songs.

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.

I wasn’t going to do a Christmas post this year but, everyone seems to be so full of fucking cheer, despite having being shafted from every possible angle and in every orifice by greedy right-wing pricks, I feel I need to point out a few fucking home truths to people. No, I’m not going to go on about the worsening European crisis or fascism or anything political because you’ve heard enough of that and there are people out there doing it much better than I could. No, I’m going to talk about the Christmas formula, particularly – (ah fuck it, exclusively) – the entertainment side of it. Because of this, I’m not going to do just one post, I shall do two.
Right, let’s briefly speak about the music side of it. I don’t mind the old crooner songs because they are not invasive and annoying, they are what all Christmas songs should be; something to be played lightly in the background to build atmosphere. The crooners knew that. The orchestras that backed them knew that and that’s correct and proper because that’s just how it should be. I don’t mind a Christmas atmosphere. No, I’ve come to hate Christmas because people tend to just shove shit in your face and expect you to swallow it. There is never an acceptable occasion to do that to anyone. My personal peeves are that fucking horrible Driving home for Christmas song. Fuck me, how pathetic is that piece of fucking horrible rancid shit? Chris Rea was obsessed with traffic jams at the time. He wrote a song called The Road To Hell. It was a song about a metaphorical traffic jam. He likens the world’s slide towards doom to a traffic jam. He uses this imagery because it occurred to him when he was stuck in a traffic jam once. His bad mood about being stuck in traffic gave voice to some dark thoughts he had about the plight of the world. “It boils with every poison you can think of”, chirps little Chris. He’s right, I fucking hate traffic jams. When it comes to Christmas, however, he writes a happy little ditty about Christmas. What is the subject matter? Being stuck in a traffic jam as you’re driving home for Christmas. All of a sudden, that murky, dark, hopelessness evoked in an earlier recording is transformed into “Top to toe in tail lights”. Suddenly, he’s so delighted to be in this traffic jam that he’s singing to himself. Not only that, he looks at the driver next to him and he’s fucking singing too. Too much fucking Prozac on the motorway is never a good fucking idea! MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND, CHRIS!
Slade seem to have started this fucking all encompassing need for bands to bring out fucking Christmas songs. This is mainly because more singles are bought around Christmas so it is the hardest No. 1 to get. Call me cynical but I guarantee there is NO other reason for Christmas singles. They don’t fucking care if you’re out in a fucking pub, covered in glitter, singing it between shots of over-priced luminous fucking syrup. They want the cash! Simple as that.
Look at Mariah Carey, for instance. I’ll be the first to admit that she can be quite pleasing on the eye. Not so much the ear though. Look, being able to reach high C may be a talent or it may simply be an ability akin to being double jointed. I haven’t given it much thought and it doesn’t matter either way. The point is this. The fact that you are able to reach high C, does not mean, under any circumstances, that you fucking should. Mariah Carey is a disgusting little fucking money grubbing trollop that is less fucking appetising than a marmite and toejam sandwich with extra fucking earwax. She bleeds cheese. She almost makes Jordan look fucking classy. And, yes, she spouts some fucking horrible Christmas shite. “All I want for Christmas is you”. I’m willing to bet that they had to put a fucking small mountain of cash and a diamond encrusted rampant rabbit to inspire her to sing that. Fuck off, Mariah, you fucking toerag!
We cannot discuss Christmas songs without mentioning that fucking nut tumour, Cliff Richard. What a fucking spoofer that man is. If you play the Lord’s Prayer backwards, it says, “fuck off and die, Cliff, you old fucking cunt”. I haven’t tried it, but I’m reliably informed. Enough about that fucker.
Then we have the Bandaid song. There won’t be snow in Africa? Really? I’m not even going to go into how badly conceived that song was. Yes, their heart was in the right place but it’s a terrible fucking song.
Fairytale of New York is a very well crafted song. It is an excellent song but it’s overplayed. How Ronan Keating ever thought it was a good idea to cover it is, frankly, beyond me. The idea of the younger Cliff Richard singing “T’was Christmas Eve, my love, in the drunk tank”, is hilarious.
People like Dana and Cliff order us to remember the true meaning of Christmas. They want us to remember that it is a time when our saviour was born. He was unique because he was born without original sin. Original fucking sin! For fuck’s sake! They want you to believe that you never had a hope. They want you to believe that you can’t possibly amount to anything good without the guidance of their makey uppy religion. Your children are born without a malicious thought or intention. They are born innocent and beautiful and precious but these fucking zealots want you to believe that they are born sinners. How utterly disgusting! How fucking dare they. Of course, this is just to coral you into a ball of fear and confusion, which can only be fixed by the guidance of the church. If you’re lucky enough not to be dicked in the ear by one of them, you may grow up to understand that the whole thing is a load of bollox.
Part 2 of this rant will be up shortly. Stay tuned, or don’t, it’s up to you.

I am in the middle of writing a post about an extremely irritating and somewhat unfortunately hilarious development in the ongoing issue with Kate O’Brien’s house but I have recently been reminded that the Cap’n is getting a little too serious so I thought I’d lighten the mood somewhat by relating to you an experience I recently had with a Catholic.
Let me start by saying that I no longer consider myself to be Catholic. If I had subscribed to a service while I was drunk or in a coma or otherwise incapable of making an educated assessment of said service, any court would consider my contract with that company null and void. I consider the same applies to the Catholic Church. I was subscribed while I was an infant so don’t give me any fucking bullshit about being a lapsed catholic or a non-practicing catholic. I am NOT a catholic. I was once considered to be a Catholic but at no time in my life did I buy that bullshit. Ok?
Right, that’s out of the way. Because of the smoking ban, I find myself outside of the pub more often than I’m in it. It is a piece of legislation I agree with and it has a surprising side effect: sociability. Yep, you end up having conversations with complete strangers and, once the initial couple of conversations have taken place, you wave at them as you pass, you become acquaintances. This can be a good thing but it can also be a catastrophically bad thing. Y’see all people are weird. You may think you’re normal but you’re not, you’re weird so accept it. Why am I saying you’re weird? Well because you don’t like the same things I do. That makes us kind of weird to each other. Yeah, weirdoes are fine but fucking freaks are a pain in the fucking nutsack.
You can tell a freak right off. The second you see one, although they may be trying to act normal, you know they are freaks because freaks simply can’t act normal. Normal to these fuckers is sitting in a twitching mass of anxious insanity, while attempting not to make eye contact. Now, before you start going on about mental health issues, let’s make the distinction here. These people have chosen to be freaks. I’m not talking about people with actual mental health issues so get the fuck off of that high horse straight away. Now let’s get another thing straight before we get to the point of this post; freaks are not cool. Ok? There’s a school of thought out there that says freaks are cool but it is a school populated by fucking freaks and NOT ONE of them is cool.
I met one such freak recently in the smoking area of a bar. It was around eight o’clock in the evening and I was enjoying a pint with a non-smoking friend. The second I walked into the smoking area, I saw this clump of flesh in the corner, eyes darting everywhere but in my direction. “Fuck”, I thought, “a freak”. Ok, so there are ways of dealing with a freak but you must first accept that there is no way of dealing with a freak so, therefore, the only effective way of dealing with a freak is to ignore the fucking freak. My method of doing this is to smoke my fag and look through my emails on my phone. More often than not, you get lucky and the freak just stays there, stewing in a fetid pool of their own madness but occasionally you get the pushy freak. Ignoring a pushy freak is like trying to tie a knot in a titanium rod. They will try, for a very short time, to respect your boundaries but will then suddenly remember that they are freaks and will approach you. This was one such pushy freak. I just knew it. He shifted uneasily in his seat as if my failure to engage him in conversation was causing him physical discomfort. Eventually, the pain must have become unbearable because he approached me. His opening line was this:
‘Have you got a light?’
Right, at this point it’s important to set the rules of the game that is about to take place. You don’t want to come across as ignorant but you can’t be too ready to engage in conversation. So I idly searched in my pocket while pausing to fully read an email I wasn’t really reading. I find 7 seconds to be an adequate delay in these situations, so I eventually started to hand my lighter to this freak when I noticed his cigarette was actually lit. I pointed this out to him and he immediately stubbed it out, took another one from its box and used my lighter to light it. I was, for the first time, witnessing that rare phenomenon; the particularly pushy freak.
‘Checking the oul textses?’ he asked and it was here that I made my fatal mistake. The rule here is to continue looking at your phone, respond with a “yuh” and hope the fucker gives you your lighter back. I didn’t do this because I’m given to occasional acts of utter idiocy.
‘No’, I replied, ‘emails’. I fucking knew the second I said it that I had just played into his hands. I had just rugby tackled Cristiano Ronaldo in my own penalty area and then took a piss on his head, before teabagging the ref. Yes, that is the breadth of the mistake I had just made, which was evidenced by the subtle but undeniably smug grin that crossed his face.
He took a long pull from his cigarette, exhaled loudly and said, ‘I don’t own a computer. Had one, got rid of it’.
Right, I had a chance here. If it was merely a pushy freak and not a particularly pushy freak, that is. He wanted me to ask him why he got rid of his computer so I nonchalantly replied, ‘Oh’. There was no interrogative inflection at the end of that “oh” sound. It was more of a grunt of acknowledgement.
There was a pause and he began to feel that physical discomfort again. He had to finish what he wanted to say so he pulled up a seat beside me and said, ‘Nope, never going to replace it, don’t miss it’.
At this point I did something I don’t normally do and just said ‘Ok, see ya’ and started to leave. Normally nothing would stop me from leaving but he unwittingly found my Achilles heel.
‘I don’t have a computer because I reckon they’re taking people further from the Lord’.
Ok, I can’t resist taking born again Christians, Catholics and other religious zealots to school. I fucking love it. I turned around, quickly assessing him, noticing the cheap looking Ferrari badge on the breast of his jacket and the Marlboro cigarettes on the table. This would be enough for an opening gambit, from which we wouldn’t recover. And so I lit another cigarette, turned to face him and said,
‘What?’
‘Computers’, he repeated, ‘they’re taking people away from God’.
‘Are you saying they are a tool of the devil?’ I replied.
‘No’, he said smiling, ‘they are a tool of man but they are taking people away from God’.
‘Which God?’ I replied.
‘There is only one God’, he replied.
‘No’, I said, ‘there are several different ones, depending on who you speak to. What I’m saying is, to which denomination are you affiliated?’
‘I’m a catholic’, he replied proudly, ‘Aren’t you?’
‘No’, I replied, I’m not a catholic’, and before he could latch on to that little gem, I quickly followed with, ‘So you believe that, when you die, you will go to heaven’.
‘Of course’, he replied, shocked that I should even hint that this just might be a bit of a ridiculous notion.
‘So why would you like to go to heaven?’ I asked.
He laughed, a very shrill and disturbing laugh that almost made me continue back into the bar but once I’ve started on Catholics, I have to finish.
‘What do you mean, “why”?’ he asked. ‘Heaven is heaven, bud. It’s paradise, full of joy and love and light and bliss and all our sins will be forgiven’.
‘Ok’, I replied, ‘you like Ferraris so I’m assuming you like fast cars, yeah?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’, he asked.
‘Ok’, I said conspiratorially, ‘I’m just going to say this and then I’m going back in for my pint but I want you to think about it. Don’t think about for a moment or even an hour. Take a few days and, when we meet again, tell me if you still want to go to heaven.’
‘Go ahead’.
‘Ok, there’s no point in having fast cars in heaven because you are immortal in heaven. There’s no risk so survival is no longer an option. There is no thrill because the thrill of a fast car comes with knowing that you could die at any second. Similarly there’s no sky-diving, white water rafting or bob sleighing. There’s probably bungee jumping but it’d rather pointless and boring, as is everything else in heaven. Ok, so that’s one of the joys of your life gone. When you consider it, that’s most joy gone.
But that’s just a small thing. I suspect you weren’t really expecting to have fast cars in heaven anyway but there’s more.
Human empathy is an evolutionary trait, imprinted on us to help us to survive and to prevent us from killing each other. Over the years we’ve learned to empathise with other people feeling pain. Empathy is a very scientific thing and is connected to our mortality. Therefore, there is no empathy in heaven because mortality isn’t in question. There is no pain or sadness so there’s no need for empathy and, without empathy, there can’t really be love because there’s nothing to really define it. You basically walk around smiling at everyone and that’s going to get on everyone’s nerves before too long because there’s no empathy or love in heaven. There’s no more murder because you’re immortal but that’s a pretty piss poor pay off.
So, there’s no love and no real joy and, without the awareness of the fragility of life itself, there’s no challenge or thrills or excitement. I mean, why would you get out of bed?
And that brings us nicely along to bliss. Bliss is kind of a subjective term but if you’re not loved, you’re not cared for, you’re not challenged or thrilled or excited, there can’t be much bliss about so the only real chance of bliss is via some narcotic supplement. And, why wouldn’t someone who presides over a loveless, boring place like heaven forgive your sins? I mean, forgiveness is a small return for all the shit you’re going to have to deal with.
So, to finish, there are places on Earth, in this town, that are exactly the same as heaven. There is no empathy or love or thrills there. The people who preside over these places couldn’t give a fuck if you’re a murderer, rapist or kiddy fiddler. They forgive all of your sins, once you have money, they sell a form of bliss and they can make you believe you are immortal.
In some countries they’re called opium dens but, in less exotic towns like this, they’re called crack houses. Now I’m heading in for my pint but, think about it, a crack house is really hell, isn’t it?’
At this point my rather more to the point friend came looking for me.
‘You’re one insulting, blaspheming fucker’, the freak said. I wanted to use Bill Hick’s line and ask him, as a Christian, to forgive me but my mate just said, ‘At least you don’t have to drink with the cunt!’ and shepherded me back into the bar.
Haven’t seen the freak since but I did enjoy his company.

I was in an appartment in Richmond Court when the events of September 11th 2001 unfolded. It was an utterly unreal and ultimately distressing experience. Many people talk about the impact of the planes as the one thing that will stick in their memory but, for me, it was the people who had no choice but to jump from windows over the point of impact. Those images have stuck with me for the past ten years and I often think of the utter desperation of having absolutelty no choice.
The people who carried out the attacks thought that, on impact, they would pass through a gateway into paradise. They were idiots. They were heartless idiots with no concern for the innocent people they were killing and the destruction of thousands of families. The people behind it were evil; that’s a certainty. They weren’t, however, Iraqi. We know now that a lot of the planning and execution of the attacks was carried out by Saudis. Of course, America can’t really retaliate on Saudi, as they own most of America.
Where is the remembrance ceremony for the hundreds of thousands who died as a result of America’s illegal reaction to the September 11th attacks? Where’s the explanation that, while companies like Haliburton and Microsoft were making truckloads of cash out of government contracts, soldiers’ salaries were cut by over thirty percent?
I have watched some of the remembrance footage and it’s genuinely heartbreaking to hear widowed wives, orphaned children and decimated famillies, mourn for loved ones who were cruelly taken in the name of hatred but we simply can’t just say, let’s not talk about Abu Ghraib or the senseless torture of and murder of innocent poor people as a result.
We could start by disbanding Fox News and ensuring that their brand of bullshit is consigned to history.
Just a thought to mark a dark day from which very few lessons appear to have been learned.

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!

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!

1 “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. You shall have no other gods before Me.

Ok, harsh, but fair enough. He the man. Yeah, I get it but what’s this about a house of bondage?

2 “You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; you shall not bow down to them nor serve them. For I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and fourth generations of those who hate Me, but showing mercy to thousands, to those who love Me and keep My Commandments.

Right, so he’s a jealous dude. Not cool but, hey, it’s understandable. If someone rains on my parade, I get pretty angry too. Not really getting into the meat and veg of things yet but be patient. These first two commandments are kind of pointless really but let’s continue.

3 “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain.

Ok, this is another pointless one. I’m great, don’t slag me off and chin anyone else who does.

4 “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labour and do all your work, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord your God. In it you shall do no work: you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your male servant, nor your female servant, nor your cattle, nor your stranger who is within your gates. For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it.

Ok, now we’re getting into the good stuff. Firstly; if he hadn’t rested on the seventh day, he might’ve been able to get rid of that recessive, let’s rape a child gene that pervades so many of his followers. What’s all this about male and female servants? The commandments were “given” to a guy who was fleeing through the desert; where the fuck would he or anyone in his company make enough money to employ a staff?

5 “Honour your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you.

Ok, that’s fair enough. My parents are sound out. I honour them whenever I can and I certainly don’t need to be commanded to do so as it comes from my love of my family.

6 “You shall not murder.

What? You should tell that to some of the Christian Brothers who have been responsible for quite a few unmarked graves. Decent people don’t kill or rape each other and, again, have no need to be commanded in this respect.

7 “You shall not commit adultery.

What about Kidultery? I mean, you’re not allowed to shag someone who is with someone else. That’s fair enough, although, with a few pints, it can happen. Why can’t there be a commandment to honour the child. Honour and respect the innocent and under absolutely no circumstances should you rape or otherwise abuse them. I don’t think I’d break the seventh commandment if someone was to shag my wife. I’d be pissed off but, as I’ve already stated, I’m a decent person and it would take a lot to drive me to kill. If, however, someone was to rape my child, I’d feed him his genitals before slowly killing the fucker.

8 “You shall not steal.

Quite a broad statement really. What about stealing someone’s innocence? What about stealing someone’s physical and mental well being through constant barracking, abuse and rape? What about stealing land from underdeveloped countries? What about stealing art and other sundry treasures from people who have nothing? If the God that the Catholic Church reveres should visit the Vatican, would he see no evidence of this history of theft?

9 “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour.

Good one. What about threatening people to keep quiet about priests who have raped them or their children?

10 “You shall not covet your neighbour’s house; you shall not covet your neighbour’s wife, nor his male servant, nor his female servant, nor his ox, nor his donkey, nor anything that is your neighbour’s.”

There he goes with the servants again! Obviously not a realist then. Right, so you can’t covet your neighbour’s house, wife, servants, cows or his donkeys. Nothing there about children but I suppose that just falls under the “anything that is your neighbour’s” category. Maybe that’s the small print that has meant that so many priests have gotten away with raping children. Maybe that’s why numerous bishops decided to move child abusers to other parishes rather than turn them into the authorities.

Ok, so the commandments were Moses’ thing but we were still taught then in school and it is, in basic terms, what Catholics are supposed to adhere to. In fact, most Catholics do adhere to these principles - well not the statue thing. I mean that’s just silly; what about the Oscars. Most Catholics adhere to these basic tenets because most Catholics are decent people who have been deluded by the very people who are charged with distribution and protection.
The Vatican insists on insulting us with these pathetically defensive outbursts like comparing criticism of the church to anti-Semitism and claiming that people who talk about Pope Ratzo’s own guilt in covering up a child rape case is simply indulging in petty gossip. Well child rape is NOT petty and the FACTS of which people speak are the fucking TRUTH!
Here’s the thing. I have nothing against people who have faith in God. I have my own beliefs and I choose to keep them to myself because faith is something that gives people hope in a hopeless world. I would never degrade somebody for believing in the same God the Catholics believe in. Ok, a galactic overlord who killed people in volcanoes as a kind of population control exercise is taking it way too far and scientology is nothing but a scam anyway. In many ways, the catholic belief is just as ridiculous but I’m a lapsed catholic and I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty.
The main rule of thumb is that fear is the most powerful persuader and that is what many religions have used throughout history. You must believe because, if you don’t, you could be standing at a bus stop, minding your own business and wondering if Moses might have actually carved those tablets himself, when you’re suddenly and unceremoniously struck down by lightening.
I’m definitely not trying to tell people not to have faith and not to believe in God. I would never do that. What I am asking is that, as much as we possibly can, we keep writing and spreading the word that the Vatican and its hierarchy are corrupt, evil people. People need to stop worshiping the Pope. Where does it say in the bible that we even need a Pope? We should not stop until those responsible for covering up crimes of child rape and those who actually raped or otherwise abused children are JAILED. These people either took part or, by act of omission and concealment, are complicit in the crime of raping children. I mean, think about that. How evil and deranged must you be to want to rape a child? How evil must you be to look into a child’s terrified eyes and beat that child anyway? There can’t be any love and compassion in these people. They belong behind bars or under the grass.

Think about all the shit you’ve had inflicted on you about being an Irish patriot over the years. Think about all the shit that has been flung in your general direction about how we should hate the British. Think about the people who fought and died for an ideal that this country never became. Think about the children raped and/or killed by men that we were told to hold in the highest esteem. Think about the leaders that we put into power and who have systematically buggered us and who now call for patience and belief in order for those same idiots to pull us out of the shit we’re in. Now ask yourself if you’re not just a little bit ashamed to be Irish.
I’m not saying that the very essence of being Irish is ruined but it’s definitely tainted. Since that fucking back stabbing piece of shit Dev took the helm, we, the great unwashed, have been fucked in the arse and eye socket by our leaders but we kept the faith. We trusted that our 800 years of torture under British rule meant that it had to work out for us someday…….. didn’t it?
Well, no, it fucking didn’t.
I, like most Irish people, am disgusted at the sheer volume and extent of clerical abuse in this country and I’m just as mad that we’re calling for the resignation of the bishops who brushed all of this under the carpet and relocated child rapists and murderers so that the problem was kept from view. Resignation? These men are criminals. By act of omission, they facilitated the continued abuse of innocent children. Wait, why did I use that term? Is there any other kind of child? These men are evil fucking perverts and the bishops who protected them are no better for believing that it was more important to protect the integrity of the church.
Nazi war criminals have been chased down regardless of their age or physical well-being and these fucking parasite priests, Gards and bishops should be hunted and punished with that same mentality. We see a doddering old man and we think, how could we punish him. Fuck him! If he raped a child, he gets jail. If he colluded in covering up the rape of children, he gets jail. Believe me, if one of these fucking cunts was presented to me, I’d have to be restrained from beating the fuckers to death - a punishment that would be far too good for them.
We’re all to p fucking c these days. “O no, we’ve got to go through the correct channels”. No we fucking don’t! These are fuckers who raped and, in some cases, killed children for their own sick gratification. Ollie O’Grady is still walking free and he was a serial child rapist.
I watched a debate on frontline and people were talking about how unfortunate it was the Donal Murray now won’t be remembered for the good things he did. WHAT? Are these fucking people on crack? He was a part of a paedophile protection ring! Who gives a fuck what he did? Did he find a cure for fucking cancer? No and, even had he found it, he still deserves jail. “Pray for me”, he pleads. Fuck you, Bishop Murray! You’re guilty by association. “I didn’t understand child abuse” he cries. You what? Fuck off, you lying cunt.
Will Ireland ever stand up and be counted? Not a fucking hope. “Someone should do something about that”. That’s our fucking credo. That’s why we have inept, greedy and corrupt leaders and sick, perverted and fucking inhumane church leaders.
I’m aware that this is a rant and that’s all it’s supposed to be because I’m fucking furious. Ireland is a fucking joke. People tut at the TV and then turn over to fucking X-Factor or whatever shite they want to get the ringing of shame out of their heads. For all of you proponents of Godwin’s Law, tell you what, fuck off and comment somewhere else.