Not coming to a chat show near you any time soon, a discussion about Irish sovereignty and Water Framework Directive 2000/60/EC. The bureaucrats in Brussels are watching the failure to form an administration in Dublin with growing concern. EC directives are binding. Member states must implement them through national legislation. Article 9 of the water framework directive requires charging for domestic water. There is a way forward. Establish a public utility with constitutional safeguards in relation to the provision of a safe water supply. We know the boiling point of water. The electorate in the 26 counties have passed boiling point on this issue.
Tangible fear on Tubridy’s face as the producer screams in his ear to shut him up or they will go early for a break.RTE is unaaccustomed to explicit, unadorned truth which banjoes Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael simultaneously. Ar fheabhas!
Fair play to him for sticking with his point when Tuburity tried to kill his point with the old line “well Denis O’Brien is not here to defend himself and he would say….”
It is Stephen Nolan’s favotite line, it always amazes me how he knows exactly what the other guy would have said in those circumstances.
Touching all the same to see Ryan ‘Airhead’ Tubridy, Esteemed Blogmeister, fly in a budget kinda way to the defence of the boss of RTE’s ‘rival’ broadcasting boss, Denis O’Brien. A mere millionaire standing up for a sheer billionaire.
And in keeping with an exchange of no little importance you drew our attention to recently:
F. Scott Fitzgerald : The rich are different from us, Ernest.
Ernest Hemmingway: Yes, they have more money.
Another broadcaster, a more than mere millionaire, a multi-millionaire, was on the airwaves yesterday, in his role as the main man on the Denis O’Brien mono media. And although there was no comedian on his show, he was in chucklesome mood. A chuckle his la-day, if you will.
The topic was the fun-filled one of the seeming Irish inability to speak, erm, Leprechaun. As a build up to his brunch-line (his show being a prime time one, it straddles the morning and lunch munch times) Patronising Pat Kenny (for it is he !) smugly mentioned the ease with which Romanian and Chinese children can converse with each other in, erm, Romanian and Chinese.
What the wheelbarrower of Lowery-sourced loot didn’t add was the ease with which a non-Romanian or a non-Chinese traveler in those antique lands can get by, there being no lack of a local minority there to converse in a functional version of the German Queen’s English. On a level at least with the typical English Premier League Bainisteoir’s grasp of the same bingo-number lingo. Not that that’s saying much, going f., at the end of the day.
There was an elephant in the studio during this show.
Which was hardly surprising considering that Patronising Pat’s pop (as he frequently reminds his vast listenership) was the Elephant keeper in the Dublin zoo, oops, the Royal Zoological Gardens.
During the show, he often instanced his own schooldays as when he mentioned in the same breath of being taught numerous subjects through Leprechaun and ‘sin amach do lamh’ (‘stretch out your hand’). Ah, the subtle, subliminal linking of Leprechaun with (gulp) ‘compulsory child abuse’. And for him to survive such a cruel, gruel-eating schooling !
Re-spect.
(For some unknown reason, however, Patronising Pat kept calling the patois ‘Irish’ – which brought to mind the clarion cry of a former Blueshirt MP affectionately known as ‘the Goose’ : ‘What kind of message are we sending to Northern Unionists ?’)
The elephant in the studio had, the previous day, Sunday 24th April, occupied a green rectangle directly across the Royal Canal from the grey school in question: Croke Park and O’Connell CBS respectively. The two institutions are not totally irrelevant to le topic du jour of the PK Show. Though for some reason, perhaps best known to himself, the host of the show opted not to mention what had happened on the opposite allied Irish bank of the canal.
Croke Park was the venue for the football, oops, Gaelic football game between Laochra na Life v Lakers of Killarney and was possibly of some importance. On the basis that it drew the biggest attendance of any sporting contest in (gulp) Europe on Sunday. And if not: where?
Not big enough, however, to catch Patriotic Pat’s hawk-eye notice. This may well be down to his off-proclaimed preference for one M.U. over the other M.U. (see below).
Although there were 82,000 present in Pairc an Chrocaigh, suffice to concentrate on just two of those present (persons, not thousands) as being least irrelevant to the comical topic of the day.
One was actually a former teacher of Patronising Pat in the school of ‘sin amach do lamh’ infamy. Now in his mid-eighties and the finest and fairest sports commentator, in either of the two Irish languages, ever (and also the best Uachtaran this benighted isle never had ) the mighty Micheal O Muircheartaigh (mar is e a bhi ann !) read a bilingual script as part of the post-games celebratory commemoration of 1916.
(As a former classmate of Patronising Pat and pupil of MOM, one’s recollection –admittedly faulty at best – is of a maistir scoile ruling by the authority which a mellifluous bilingual voice automatically confers upon a teacher, rather than an inarticulate leather strap, probably manufactured in a black and tannery).
The other instance of an Irish person’s ‘inability’ to speak Leprechaun was one of the Laochra na Life, now in his early twenties, and a native of Castleknock, just an, erm, elephant’s trumpet call away from the Royal Zoological Gardens.
That was the MOM (Man Of the Match) himself.
During his acceptance response as he was presented with yet another bauble, Ciaran Kilkenny (mar is e a bhi ann !) spoke only in Leprechaun. (Though, in fairness, going f., one has yet to have proof that this multiple bauble winner can actually speak Compulsory English).
Ciaran Kilkenny (no relation of Pat Kenny) , incidentally, plays football, oops, Gaelic football in a manner reminiscent of the virtuoso flautist, James Galway playing the flaut, oops, flute. The Duracell Bunny of Dublin displays an awesome mastery of breath control technique.
To conclude: the preference of Pate-eating Pat for one M.U. over the other M.U. is a given. Otherwise he would hardly be in position to park one plump arse in the plush swivel chair of the main man on the mono media of DOBland.
Manchester United and Maor Uisce, perspectively.
Truly, does one need not one, but two funny bones to survive in this comical ‘country’ south of the Black Sow’s Dyke.
Turbridy did’nt say SF were “not here to defend themselves” when he allowed gutter journalist Paul Williams on to slander the party on the eve of the election.
Irish sovereignty and EC directives
Not coming to a chat show near you any time soon, a discussion about Irish sovereignty and Water Framework Directive 2000/60/EC. The bureaucrats in Brussels are watching the failure to form an administration in Dublin with growing concern. EC directives are binding. Member states must implement them through national legislation. Article 9 of the water framework directive requires charging for domestic water. There is a way forward. Establish a public utility with constitutional safeguards in relation to the provision of a safe water supply. We know the boiling point of water. The electorate in the 26 counties have passed boiling point on this issue.
Tangible fear on Tubridy’s face as the producer screams in his ear to shut him up or they will go early for a break.RTE is unaaccustomed to explicit, unadorned truth which banjoes Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael simultaneously. Ar fheabhas!
Fair play to him for sticking with his point when Tuburity tried to kill his point with the old line “well Denis O’Brien is not here to defend himself and he would say….”
It is Stephen Nolan’s favotite line, it always amazes me how he knows exactly what the other guy would have said in those circumstances.
Kudos to Oliver Callan.
He told it exactly as it is and as others have pointed out Ryan Tubridy was visibly crapping himself.
Methinks Oliver will not be invited back for a while.
Touching all the same to see Ryan ‘Airhead’ Tubridy, Esteemed Blogmeister, fly in a budget kinda way to the defence of the boss of RTE’s ‘rival’ broadcasting boss, Denis O’Brien. A mere millionaire standing up for a sheer billionaire.
And in keeping with an exchange of no little importance you drew our attention to recently:
F. Scott Fitzgerald : The rich are different from us, Ernest.
Ernest Hemmingway: Yes, they have more money.
Another broadcaster, a more than mere millionaire, a multi-millionaire, was on the airwaves yesterday, in his role as the main man on the Denis O’Brien mono media. And although there was no comedian on his show, he was in chucklesome mood. A chuckle his la-day, if you will.
The topic was the fun-filled one of the seeming Irish inability to speak, erm, Leprechaun. As a build up to his brunch-line (his show being a prime time one, it straddles the morning and lunch munch times) Patronising Pat Kenny (for it is he !) smugly mentioned the ease with which Romanian and Chinese children can converse with each other in, erm, Romanian and Chinese.
What the wheelbarrower of Lowery-sourced loot didn’t add was the ease with which a non-Romanian or a non-Chinese traveler in those antique lands can get by, there being no lack of a local minority there to converse in a functional version of the German Queen’s English. On a level at least with the typical English Premier League Bainisteoir’s grasp of the same bingo-number lingo. Not that that’s saying much, going f., at the end of the day.
There was an elephant in the studio during this show.
Which was hardly surprising considering that Patronising Pat’s pop (as he frequently reminds his vast listenership) was the Elephant keeper in the Dublin zoo, oops, the Royal Zoological Gardens.
During the show, he often instanced his own schooldays as when he mentioned in the same breath of being taught numerous subjects through Leprechaun and ‘sin amach do lamh’ (‘stretch out your hand’). Ah, the subtle, subliminal linking of Leprechaun with (gulp) ‘compulsory child abuse’. And for him to survive such a cruel, gruel-eating schooling !
Re-spect.
(For some unknown reason, however, Patronising Pat kept calling the patois ‘Irish’ – which brought to mind the clarion cry of a former Blueshirt MP affectionately known as ‘the Goose’ : ‘What kind of message are we sending to Northern Unionists ?’)
The elephant in the studio had, the previous day, Sunday 24th April, occupied a green rectangle directly across the Royal Canal from the grey school in question: Croke Park and O’Connell CBS respectively. The two institutions are not totally irrelevant to le topic du jour of the PK Show. Though for some reason, perhaps best known to himself, the host of the show opted not to mention what had happened on the opposite allied Irish bank of the canal.
Croke Park was the venue for the football, oops, Gaelic football game between Laochra na Life v Lakers of Killarney and was possibly of some importance. On the basis that it drew the biggest attendance of any sporting contest in (gulp) Europe on Sunday. And if not: where?
Not big enough, however, to catch Patriotic Pat’s hawk-eye notice. This may well be down to his off-proclaimed preference for one M.U. over the other M.U. (see below).
Although there were 82,000 present in Pairc an Chrocaigh, suffice to concentrate on just two of those present (persons, not thousands) as being least irrelevant to the comical topic of the day.
One was actually a former teacher of Patronising Pat in the school of ‘sin amach do lamh’ infamy. Now in his mid-eighties and the finest and fairest sports commentator, in either of the two Irish languages, ever (and also the best Uachtaran this benighted isle never had ) the mighty Micheal O Muircheartaigh (mar is e a bhi ann !) read a bilingual script as part of the post-games celebratory commemoration of 1916.
(As a former classmate of Patronising Pat and pupil of MOM, one’s recollection –admittedly faulty at best – is of a maistir scoile ruling by the authority which a mellifluous bilingual voice automatically confers upon a teacher, rather than an inarticulate leather strap, probably manufactured in a black and tannery).
The other instance of an Irish person’s ‘inability’ to speak Leprechaun was one of the Laochra na Life, now in his early twenties, and a native of Castleknock, just an, erm, elephant’s trumpet call away from the Royal Zoological Gardens.
That was the MOM (Man Of the Match) himself.
During his acceptance response as he was presented with yet another bauble, Ciaran Kilkenny (mar is e a bhi ann !) spoke only in Leprechaun. (Though, in fairness, going f., one has yet to have proof that this multiple bauble winner can actually speak Compulsory English).
Ciaran Kilkenny (no relation of Pat Kenny) , incidentally, plays football, oops, Gaelic football in a manner reminiscent of the virtuoso flautist, James Galway playing the flaut, oops, flute. The Duracell Bunny of Dublin displays an awesome mastery of breath control technique.
To conclude: the preference of Pate-eating Pat for one M.U. over the other M.U. is a given. Otherwise he would hardly be in position to park one plump arse in the plush swivel chair of the main man on the mono media of DOBland.
Manchester United and Maor Uisce, perspectively.
Truly, does one need not one, but two funny bones to survive in this comical ‘country’ south of the Black Sow’s Dyke.
–
Turbridy did’nt say SF were “not here to defend themselves” when he allowed gutter journalist Paul Williams on to slander the party on the eve of the election.