“Shrill and confused” – That proper made me chuckle Jude! There’s no doubt in my mind that the Indo – and particularly The Sindo are reaching a point (or may actually have), that there’s no more ‘pinpoints of attack’ they can lay upon Sinn Fein. Their soggy, stinking bog has run dry – hence, as you pointed out during ‘the periscope’ – they’re resorting to laughable ‘Opinion Articles’ such as RDE’s timing of the handshake – and the stunningly hilarious ‘cup of tea as method of protection’! You’re exactly correct in your perception as to the length of the handshake – it’s seen time and time again the world over – leaders, dignitaries etc – all will hold the handshake for some 15 seconds or so. – Plus, none of us know what Gerry and Charlie actually said during those (gasp!) 13 seconds. My guess would be that it involved words of reconciliation and regret. And i believe also that the meeting, however brief, was pre-arranged – and although (myself being of dual Nationality), growing up in the UK as an Anti-Monarchist / Republican (though knowing the Royal Family will always exist – especially given the fact that a high proportion of the populace there can’t wait for William to ‘get the big job’) – and after almost 14 years of living down here in the South, always having voted SF – i’m glad the handshake was made, also too, that Charles, whilst in Wexford, stated his regret at the loss of life etc “on all sides”
As regards The Irish (Unionist) Times – they’ve slackened off the anti-SF brigade of Journalists and ‘Opinionists’ of late, though that was more to do with seemingly giving the anti-SSM, Breda O’Brien a permanent platform to espouse her views (along with the IONA crowd), day after day after day – And it wasn’t until the last couple of days before the Vote, that the ‘Yes’ Voters were given a sizeable platform to air their views – and that was done in a ‘head-to-head’ medium between approximately 8 ‘pairs’ of Yes/No’ers. The lone voice was Una Mulalley (i may not have got her surname spelt correctly there) – very often a good read (and listen) regarding music, culture and such – and herself a lesbian. (Also sadly recently diagnosed with cancer, and relatively young too, mid-30’s?) – And disgustingly the recipient of messages along the lines of “Well, if you lived a ‘normal life’ and didn’t promote your deviancy, you wouldn’t have cancer” – And worse. Very hopefully, it may have been diagnosed early, she’ll make a full recovery – and outlive the knuckle-dragging bigots.
The Times, overall, has in my view changed over the years – it was my Newspaper of choice when i moved over (though i read it quite regularly 25 years ago in the UK, during a few years of a career working for WH Smiths – and then post it straight up to my Mum + Dad in Lancashire, usually 3 times a week). When i moved over here, i instantly recognised ‘The Dependent’ for the tripe that it was/is – the first ‘Journalist’ i detested was Kevin Myers (who lives about 10 miles from me).
The Times’ rot seemed to set in when the female Editor, (her name escapes me) left the Paper, and FG (semi) won the Election. – and then it gradually went into ‘attack SF mode’ – especially after the Local / European Elections last year, when SF won hosts of seats (also doing very well in the Carlow/Kilkenny By-Election last Friday by the way)
One major change in recent months however, has been the appointment of a new Editor – and i’m almost certain of this – a W-B-U (i’ll let you try and figure that out), from Athy (It’s not the end of the World – But you can see it from there), in deepest Kildare. Also married to a FG’er i’m told. – So standby over the coming year, as the Election looms – and T-U-T will show its true, oh so blue, colours.
By the way Jude, you’re looking well. Apologies for nary a post from myself for quite a while, but the Medicinal f**k up that a Consultant up in Dublin made 11 years ago, had/has recently hit ‘the pinnacle’ in terms of pain (bones etc) – and Hospital stays (with no sodding Wi-Fi) – Bloody Nora! – You and Paddy have been busy! Given time, i’ll get through all your blogs.
Many Thanks Indeed / GRMA, Jude. – Perkin joined the dots / put the jigsaw pieces in the right place for me there….wrong ‘Newspaper’, wrong Party (just about, in terms of timing over the last 48 hours or so). Have to admire her stance – she does come across as someone you wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of i’d imagine.
– Looking forward to googling the Harris article link!
Just one quibble with your communication from the depths, Esteemed Perimeister: one felt you were unduly tough on The Unionist Times which you relegated to silver medal winner status in the role of Shinner skinners.
With the golden girls and b’s in the Sunday Dependent (where no chimney sweepers need apply) double breasting the tape first.
Perhaps you missed this little bitty litir/ letter of witty pith from the woodwindy city of Vienna.during the week in TUT. It was penned by a Doctor John Doherty, and is perhaps worth quoting in full:
-I hope Prince Charles counted his fingers after his recent handshakes.
Two questions are begged here: 1. Does The Big C suffer from leprosy?
2. What’s with the plural of handshake?
Does the ‘handshakes’ contain a veiled reference to the Little Boys’ Room in a Comfort Stop? One understood Royalty employs footmen (of the middle sort) to deal with that sort of domestic duties. Perhaps, the good Doktor Johann might like to expand in a later letter?
(Vienna was not at all an inappropriate city from which to pen a missive re Prinz Karl. Who does have a habit of committing the occasional gaffe, such as: ‘Ich bin ein Karlie’)
It took one a while too to twig the title of the tome on the shelf over your left shoulder, Esteemed Perimeister. So, one went into Sherlock Holmes mode (taking up the magnifying glass, and deerstalker hat and putting aside the opiate laudanum for the nonce). For that sleuth in his eternal pursuit of the truth was of the firm opinion that the current book on the shelf can always give an inkling as to the inner self of the thinking suspect’s suspect..
The name of the author in large print was a doddle: Richard Power.
That figured: as for the past week we South of the Black Sow’s Dyke have been rather concerned with the diminutive of Richard (Dickie) on two fronts and its,erm power to exert change for the better in terms of tolerance, decency, inclusivity,generosity, that sort of thingy.
But: the title of the tome in smaller print confronted one with something of a three pipe puzzle: could it be, perchance, the biography of one of the two dungareed members of the Dworkin Class in q: Ruth and Eilish ?
On mature recollection of the title , however, lasting all of perhaps 6.9 nanoseconds one summarily dismissed this possibility out of handshake, oops, hand: The Lay of the Land.
One point which one felt you might have emphasised, E.P,, in an otherwise penetrating anal-Isis, is the charming tendency towards the coy which the golden girls and boys of both the Sunday Dependent and its sister paper, the Irish Dependent (known as I, Sis) share.
In the case of the Sunday edish this coyness has taken root in the Cahilliphate of the Free Southern Stateen, in general, such is its influence of the majority who meekly wear the badge of Maj.
This coyness is no less prevalent In the case of the Irish Dependent, whose extraordinarily exciting new editor is, of course, one Fionan Sheehan aka Mr. Sheen. For the past two days the pages of the Irish Dependent have been dominated by one name, that of Mrs. Fionan Sheehan, aka Mrs Sheen.
Or, as she is known far less widely and even then in only the most select of circles: Ms. Averil Power, late of the Fianna Failures.
But, of course, there is always Vienna.
A city not unknown to Grand Onkel Dorf, himself. Or indeed, to the distinguished sigh-cologist, Doktor Maureen Gaffney who put the emphasis firmly on the first syllable of her surname when she sighed this about the No Nothings of late at a Hissy Yis meeting:
– ‘In Nazi German,nobody of German blood was allowed marry Jewish people. I’m not drawing direct comparisons, we’re far from that here, but I ask you, what is the difference excluding a whole raft of ordinary people who are gay and lesbian?’
Then, as a weary afterthought, she sighed: ‘ It’s just another form of the same oppression’.
When, on last Saturday’s Finucane Show the stern Maid Marian demanded in no uncertain terms, that the eminent sigh-cologiist explain herself, La Gaffe, somewhat shaken, sighed: ‘I was taken out of context’.
So, that’s alright then. Or as we are given to say (philosophically) South of the Black Sow’s Dye: ‘Ta gach uile rud anois ar Mhuin na Muice Duibhe’.
Hausfrau Gudrun Burwitz (nee, Himmler), daughter of one who was once involved in a similar war to that of Grand Onkel Dickie, wrote the following as a teenager: ‘Today we went to the SS concentration camp at Dachau. We saw everything we could.We saw the gardening work. We saw the pear trees.We saw all the pictures painted by the prisoners. Marvellous. After which we had a lot to eat. It was very nice’.
Hausfrau Burwitz today, a doting great grandmother, still lives close to Dachau and is of a similar viewpoint, still..
One mentions this for when it comes to handshakes, Grand Okkels and say, Dresden or Down the wee Falls Road,, both Ruth and Eilis would give Gudrun a, erm, good run for her sheckels.
NB: in this instance the strict in-house Sunday Dependent rule manifestly does NOT apply: Eoghan ‘Heliopter’ Harris is no relation; repeat, NO relation.
For the record: the wallpaper (and shadeless bulb) are in the one room in the house where the present Mrs C has permitted squalor to run free. Some days I amuse myself by taking pot-shots at the occasional fleet-footed rat. Although I must be truthful: I’m seriously thinking of a light shade.
PS Oops, Esteemed Perimeister, the author of that tome mentioned above ought to have read: Richard Ford, of course.
Mo leithsceal, agus (gulp) mea culpa.
Demned magnifying glass, don’t you know. The blame rests entirely with one’s manservant, name of Watson who fancies himself a doctor but is really a quack.
Who quickly took the opposite route to the generality by ENTERING the closet of late. And is adamantly refusing to come out till there are at least four TV cameras, ten radio mikes, a panic attack of hacks and a power of attorneys in attendance.
in the unlikely event of this not happening the same Watson is threatening to head off for Vienna, and to put up a brass plaque with ‘Doktor Watson’ inscribed. And from there to write one line-letters to The Editor of The Unionist Times.
Who just loves to receive same. Lends him a, erm, patina of cosmopolitanism, don’t you know.
Jude,take a look some time at Eoghan Harris’s column on the Adams /Charlie handshake.I got it by googling “Eoghan Harris”.It’s comedy gold !
Eoghan Harris link is priceless. Is he the one who used to command the Munster IRA or was that a different traitor? Unbelievable!
“Shrill and confused” – That proper made me chuckle Jude! There’s no doubt in my mind that the Indo – and particularly The Sindo are reaching a point (or may actually have), that there’s no more ‘pinpoints of attack’ they can lay upon Sinn Fein. Their soggy, stinking bog has run dry – hence, as you pointed out during ‘the periscope’ – they’re resorting to laughable ‘Opinion Articles’ such as RDE’s timing of the handshake – and the stunningly hilarious ‘cup of tea as method of protection’! You’re exactly correct in your perception as to the length of the handshake – it’s seen time and time again the world over – leaders, dignitaries etc – all will hold the handshake for some 15 seconds or so. – Plus, none of us know what Gerry and Charlie actually said during those (gasp!) 13 seconds. My guess would be that it involved words of reconciliation and regret. And i believe also that the meeting, however brief, was pre-arranged – and although (myself being of dual Nationality), growing up in the UK as an Anti-Monarchist / Republican (though knowing the Royal Family will always exist – especially given the fact that a high proportion of the populace there can’t wait for William to ‘get the big job’) – and after almost 14 years of living down here in the South, always having voted SF – i’m glad the handshake was made, also too, that Charles, whilst in Wexford, stated his regret at the loss of life etc “on all sides”
As regards The Irish (Unionist) Times – they’ve slackened off the anti-SF brigade of Journalists and ‘Opinionists’ of late, though that was more to do with seemingly giving the anti-SSM, Breda O’Brien a permanent platform to espouse her views (along with the IONA crowd), day after day after day – And it wasn’t until the last couple of days before the Vote, that the ‘Yes’ Voters were given a sizeable platform to air their views – and that was done in a ‘head-to-head’ medium between approximately 8 ‘pairs’ of Yes/No’ers. The lone voice was Una Mulalley (i may not have got her surname spelt correctly there) – very often a good read (and listen) regarding music, culture and such – and herself a lesbian. (Also sadly recently diagnosed with cancer, and relatively young too, mid-30’s?) – And disgustingly the recipient of messages along the lines of “Well, if you lived a ‘normal life’ and didn’t promote your deviancy, you wouldn’t have cancer” – And worse. Very hopefully, it may have been diagnosed early, she’ll make a full recovery – and outlive the knuckle-dragging bigots.
The Times, overall, has in my view changed over the years – it was my Newspaper of choice when i moved over (though i read it quite regularly 25 years ago in the UK, during a few years of a career working for WH Smiths – and then post it straight up to my Mum + Dad in Lancashire, usually 3 times a week). When i moved over here, i instantly recognised ‘The Dependent’ for the tripe that it was/is – the first ‘Journalist’ i detested was Kevin Myers (who lives about 10 miles from me).
The Times’ rot seemed to set in when the female Editor, (her name escapes me) left the Paper, and FG (semi) won the Election. – and then it gradually went into ‘attack SF mode’ – especially after the Local / European Elections last year, when SF won hosts of seats (also doing very well in the Carlow/Kilkenny By-Election last Friday by the way)
One major change in recent months however, has been the appointment of a new Editor – and i’m almost certain of this – a W-B-U (i’ll let you try and figure that out), from Athy (It’s not the end of the World – But you can see it from there), in deepest Kildare. Also married to a FG’er i’m told. – So standby over the coming year, as the Election looms – and T-U-T will show its true, oh so blue, colours.
By the way Jude, you’re looking well. Apologies for nary a post from myself for quite a while, but the Medicinal f**k up that a Consultant up in Dublin made 11 years ago, had/has recently hit ‘the pinnacle’ in terms of pain (bones etc) – and Hospital stays (with no sodding Wi-Fi) – Bloody Nora! – You and Paddy have been busy! Given time, i’ll get through all your blogs.
Best Wishes – and tell Paddy i said “Howdo”!
Good to hear from you, John – stay well. Paddy will no doubt respond when he emerges from his alcoholic slumber…
Many Thanks Indeed / GRMA, Jude. – Perkin joined the dots / put the jigsaw pieces in the right place for me there….wrong ‘Newspaper’, wrong Party (just about, in terms of timing over the last 48 hours or so). Have to admire her stance – she does come across as someone you wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of i’d imagine.
– Looking forward to googling the Harris article link!
Huh? Waddaya mean “slumber”…. Deep contemplanation !!!!
Just one quibble with your communication from the depths, Esteemed Perimeister: one felt you were unduly tough on The Unionist Times which you relegated to silver medal winner status in the role of Shinner skinners.
With the golden girls and b’s in the Sunday Dependent (where no chimney sweepers need apply) double breasting the tape first.
Perhaps you missed this little bitty litir/ letter of witty pith from the woodwindy city of Vienna.during the week in TUT. It was penned by a Doctor John Doherty, and is perhaps worth quoting in full:
-I hope Prince Charles counted his fingers after his recent handshakes.
Two questions are begged here: 1. Does The Big C suffer from leprosy?
2. What’s with the plural of handshake?
Does the ‘handshakes’ contain a veiled reference to the Little Boys’ Room in a Comfort Stop? One understood Royalty employs footmen (of the middle sort) to deal with that sort of domestic duties. Perhaps, the good Doktor Johann might like to expand in a later letter?
(Vienna was not at all an inappropriate city from which to pen a missive re Prinz Karl. Who does have a habit of committing the occasional gaffe, such as: ‘Ich bin ein Karlie’)
It took one a while too to twig the title of the tome on the shelf over your left shoulder, Esteemed Perimeister. So, one went into Sherlock Holmes mode (taking up the magnifying glass, and deerstalker hat and putting aside the opiate laudanum for the nonce). For that sleuth in his eternal pursuit of the truth was of the firm opinion that the current book on the shelf can always give an inkling as to the inner self of the thinking suspect’s suspect..
The name of the author in large print was a doddle: Richard Power.
That figured: as for the past week we South of the Black Sow’s Dyke have been rather concerned with the diminutive of Richard (Dickie) on two fronts and its,erm power to exert change for the better in terms of tolerance, decency, inclusivity,generosity, that sort of thingy.
But: the title of the tome in smaller print confronted one with something of a three pipe puzzle: could it be, perchance, the biography of one of the two dungareed members of the Dworkin Class in q: Ruth and Eilish ?
On mature recollection of the title , however, lasting all of perhaps 6.9 nanoseconds one summarily dismissed this possibility out of handshake, oops, hand: The Lay of the Land.
One point which one felt you might have emphasised, E.P,, in an otherwise penetrating anal-Isis, is the charming tendency towards the coy which the golden girls and boys of both the Sunday Dependent and its sister paper, the Irish Dependent (known as I, Sis) share.
In the case of the Sunday edish this coyness has taken root in the Cahilliphate of the Free Southern Stateen, in general, such is its influence of the majority who meekly wear the badge of Maj.
This coyness is no less prevalent In the case of the Irish Dependent, whose extraordinarily exciting new editor is, of course, one Fionan Sheehan aka Mr. Sheen. For the past two days the pages of the Irish Dependent have been dominated by one name, that of Mrs. Fionan Sheehan, aka Mrs Sheen.
Or, as she is known far less widely and even then in only the most select of circles: Ms. Averil Power, late of the Fianna Failures.
But, of course, there is always Vienna.
A city not unknown to Grand Onkel Dorf, himself. Or indeed, to the distinguished sigh-cologist, Doktor Maureen Gaffney who put the emphasis firmly on the first syllable of her surname when she sighed this about the No Nothings of late at a Hissy Yis meeting:
– ‘In Nazi German,nobody of German blood was allowed marry Jewish people. I’m not drawing direct comparisons, we’re far from that here, but I ask you, what is the difference excluding a whole raft of ordinary people who are gay and lesbian?’
Then, as a weary afterthought, she sighed: ‘ It’s just another form of the same oppression’.
When, on last Saturday’s Finucane Show the stern Maid Marian demanded in no uncertain terms, that the eminent sigh-cologiist explain herself, La Gaffe, somewhat shaken, sighed: ‘I was taken out of context’.
So, that’s alright then. Or as we are given to say (philosophically) South of the Black Sow’s Dye: ‘Ta gach uile rud anois ar Mhuin na Muice Duibhe’.
Hausfrau Gudrun Burwitz (nee, Himmler), daughter of one who was once involved in a similar war to that of Grand Onkel Dickie, wrote the following as a teenager: ‘Today we went to the SS concentration camp at Dachau. We saw everything we could.We saw the gardening work. We saw the pear trees.We saw all the pictures painted by the prisoners. Marvellous. After which we had a lot to eat. It was very nice’.
Hausfrau Burwitz today, a doting great grandmother, still lives close to Dachau and is of a similar viewpoint, still..
One mentions this for when it comes to handshakes, Grand Okkels and say, Dresden or Down the wee Falls Road,, both Ruth and Eilis would give Gudrun a, erm, good run for her sheckels.
NB: in this instance the strict in-house Sunday Dependent rule manifestly does NOT apply: Eoghan ‘Heliopter’ Harris is no relation; repeat, NO relation.
PS Love the wallpaper, Esteeemed Perimeister.: ‘
For the record: the wallpaper (and shadeless bulb) are in the one room in the house where the present Mrs C has permitted squalor to run free. Some days I amuse myself by taking pot-shots at the occasional fleet-footed rat. Although I must be truthful: I’m seriously thinking of a light shade.
PS Oops, Esteemed Perimeister, the author of that tome mentioned above ought to have read: Richard Ford, of course.
Mo leithsceal, agus (gulp) mea culpa.
Demned magnifying glass, don’t you know. The blame rests entirely with one’s manservant, name of Watson who fancies himself a doctor but is really a quack.
Who quickly took the opposite route to the generality by ENTERING the closet of late. And is adamantly refusing to come out till there are at least four TV cameras, ten radio mikes, a panic attack of hacks and a power of attorneys in attendance.
in the unlikely event of this not happening the same Watson is threatening to head off for Vienna, and to put up a brass plaque with ‘Doktor Watson’ inscribed. And from there to write one line-letters to The Editor of The Unionist Times.
Who just loves to receive same. Lends him a, erm, patina of cosmopolitanism, don’t you know.
PS Still love the wallpaper.