(Snap 1)
Graffiti is, like Primo Carnera, aka The Vast Venetian, one the the leading contenders for the most used of Italian words imported into the English (or indeed, Leprechaun) language.
This particular graffiti was in the same spot the last time this scribe imbibed the visual variety of Venezia, five or so years ago.
(Griangraf 1)
Is iomaitheoir láidir, graffiti, dála Primo Carnera, ata An Veinéiseach Ollmhor, don teideal gurb é an focal Iodáilise is mo a úsáidtear sa Bhéarla, (gan trácht, ar ndoigh, ar an Leipreacháinis).
Maidir leis an graffiti áirithe seo, bhí sé le feiceáil san áit chéanna an uair dheireanach a thug an gaiscíoch méarchláir seo ar Venezia, cúig bhliain no mar sin o shin.
Like Graffiti, ditto for Fiasco. (As indeed, for ditto itself). (Not to mention ‘Cíor Thuathail’: seems well nigh impossible to leave Finchley ‘Fiasco’ Fintan out of the reckoning !). Fiasco is the imported word in the soon again to be King’s English to best describe, Georgie, that ‘turbulent’ marriage of Fine and Fianna, Gael and Fail, respectively.
Dála Graffiti, ditto Fiasco (dala ditto fein !). (Gan trácht ar Chíor Thuathail: dealraíonn sé go bhfuil sé dodhéanta Finchley ‘Fiasco’ Fintan a fhágáil as an áireamh !). Is é an focal Fiasco an focal is fearr le cur síos a dhéanamh ar an gcomhrialtas ‘corrach’ idir an lánúin aisteach úd, Fine agus Fianna, Gael agus Fail, faoi seach.
For in truth this pair of bedders-down at loggerheads are known (as sneak-peeked by Keyhole Kates on the take – known as ‘The Thighed Intermediary ‘ in the Press Circle of Leinster House) to slyly push their divans together in the privacy of their mistress bedroom behind locked doors at say, four in the morning, when once more the dawning, in sinister Leinster House to engage in a rum pact of gazumpy-thumpy.
Déanta na firinne, tuigtear (do Phoilín an Phoill Eochrach a bhfuil a soc sa trach aiic agus ar a dtugtar An Eadránaí Leadránach Leise i gCiorcail na nEach i dTeach Laighean) go bhfuil sé de nos ag an mbeirt phairtnéir singil atá in ainm is a bheith achrannach go bhfuil siad i ndáiríre in adharca a cheile i seomra leapa an mháistreása i dTeach uchoideach Laighhean i mbun an dá díbheán a bhrú le chéile, ag, abair, a cheathair ar maidin, agus an lá le breacadh, chun gor ar shocrú caimiléireachta a bhfuil cur isteach on dá thaobh ann.
In other words to come up with a one-word insult which most effectively expresses their primary , if not sole, purpose of coalesced existence : to gazump and thump the Shinners. ‘Mafia’ has been, of course, an ongoing Fine and Fail fall back term of derision. But of late it was considered, well, too Italiano or RC and so a more blunt, one-syllable word with a good Anglo-Saxon direction about it was sought.
What prompted this urgent need to consult in an adult way that will catapult them back on the front foot was the result of the recent Boy-Girls Election in Dublin Bay which gave Fine Fail no cause to exhult when they were both ‘Bounced by a Bad Cheque’ as the red-tops had it.
I bhfocail eile leis an masla aonfhocail a aimsiú a nochtodh níos éifeachtai an phriomh-chuspoir, an t-aon chuis, ata lena gcomhrialtas aontachta, mo leithscéal, aontaithe: chun Sinn Fein a gasumpáil gan trácht ar a dhumpáil. Le fada, dob é ‘Mafia’ ar ndoigh an rogha téarma ag Fine agus Fail mar mhasla fonoideach. Go dtí le déanaí nuair a ceapadh go raibh sé, bhfuel, ro-Iodáileach, ro-RC agus mar sin, go raibh gá le focal aonsiollach a bhí giorraisc ar bhealach gallda agus maol sa stil namhbhalbh. Angla-Shasanach.
Dob é an fáth tobann a bhi leis an gá seo chun dul i gcomhairle ar bhonn tuairimiúil, stuama a theilgfidh siad ar ais on reilig ná an léasadh a d’fhulaing an lánúin Laighneach sa bhfo-thoghchán le deanai ag Bá Geal Bhaile Átha Cliath nuair a ‘d’obaigh Droch-Sheic orthu dís’, mar a thug na cinn-rua i gceannline ar an dtubaist.
They have come up with a real humdinger of a cunning stunt. With a four letter C-word.
-Cult.
Thus, ‘The Cult that is Sinn Fein’ was to be heard with both gay and not so gay abandon over the airwaves in the immediate aftermath of the Ninth and Final Count, when it was shown that both Fine and Fail had proved to be suffering from ‘electoral dysfunction’.
D’éirigh leo cleas dochreidte ar doigh a chumadh. I gcraiceann an fhocail-C le se litir:
-Cultas.
Mar sin, bhí ‘An Cultas ar a dtugar Sinn Féin’ le choistint á chaitheamh timpeall na haertonnta le gaoth agus fiú, gan le puth gaoithe díreach i ndiaidh an Naoú Chomhairimh a chinntigh go bhfuil daor i gconai ar Fine agus Fail araon i ngeall ar a ‘mifheidhmiú toghchánach’.
(Snap 2)
Two stuatuesque lions squat to one side of the Basilica of St. Marc in Piazza San Marco.
-The British and Irish Lions sez I to myself sez I.
-Which is the British Lion and which is the Irish Lion?
Spot the difference
Or, to put it another way:
-Which is Captain Courageous Conor and which is Leo ?
(Griangraf 2)
Feictear dha leon ar a ngogaide ar thaobh amahin de Bhasilica Mharc Naoa i gCearnog San Marco.
-Na Leoin Bhriotanacha agus Eireannacha,, arsa mise liom fein, arsa mise.
-Cé acu an Leon Briotanach agus ce acu an Leon Eireannach?
Dean an difriocht a aithint.
No, len é a chur ar bhealach eile:
-Cé acu an Captaen Croga Conor agus cé acu Leo?
The Rugby Correpondents of TUT (a plurality of pure pride in the achievements of our United Oval-balled Oirishmen ) threw themselves into a high-kicking Canal Dance on Conor’s being The Chosen One, a dance plucked from the Gondoliers which those Gilbertian ‘schwencks’, the Irish Christian Brothers, now wiped out and off the blackboard of history, saw to it thrilled their pupils, contrary to another Conor’s box-ticked dictum.
We will dance a cachucha, fandandgo, bolero
Old Xeres we’ll drink Manzanilla, Montero;
For wine, when it runs in abundance, enhances
The reckless delight of that wildest of dances !
Chaith Tuairisceoirí Rugbai (iolra, Ruairí Mac Iolra) an TUT iad féin gan srian isteach i Rince Canála ( le teann morbhoid as na gaiscí gradamúla atá bainte amach ag ár Laochra le Liatrhoidí Ubhchruthacha,go háirithe Ceapachán Conor mar an Té ata Tofa (nuair is bua don Chine Tofa ní mor don Mhonailít Dara Mhona atá Lofa, rith). Roghnaigh siad Rince o na Gondaloirí a d’féach na ‘schwenks’ Gilbeirteacha siúd, Bráithre Críostaí na hÉireann, atá glanta anois as clár dubh na staire, chuige gur bhain a ndáltaí sceithimíní as an rince céanna, cibé a thug an Bhréag Mhor nár Éag de chuid Conor eile., le fios.
It is worthy of note that when it comes to that most politcial of pastimes, sport, the T.U.T. intially morphs into a subtley different form: T, UT. This stands for:
-Tolerant, Uber Tolerant.
Is dÍol spéise tabhairt faoi deara nuair thagann an sport i gceist, nach bhfuil nÍ nÍos polaitiúile ann, go gclaochlaÍonn TUT go caolchúiseach to dtí C,AC Seasann seo do:
-Caoinfhulangach, An-Chaoinfhulangach.
One Kodak Mo in T,UT speaks louder than threee words, such as Hundred Thousand Welcomes
In Mount Juliet golf crourse recently at the Open, oops, the Irish Open, there was a photo in T,UT of 2 Giants of Irish Sport (Jonny and Rory, as in Sexton and McIlroy) strolling down a fairway, like a pair of Romeos. Genuflect ye all, in the presence of Greatness ! But, whereveR there is Apple software, there is always a Butt, but. A couple of days later, a photo of the same scene appeared in a different publicaiton.
Cue: the theme from The Third Man composed and played unforgettably by Anton Karas on the Zither (aka A to z).
Labhrann Bom Kodak níos airde ná trí fhocal: Céad Míle Fáilte. Ar chúrsa gailf Cnoc Julitr ag an Oscailte, mo leithscéal, Oscailte na hÉireann, i leathanaigh T,UT de 2 Fathach de Sport na hAryean,mo leithscéal, na hÉireann (Jonny agus Rory, Sexton agus McIlroy faoi seach) ag spaisteoireacht síos banog, dála péire Romeo. Déan bhur nglúinte a fheacadh, i láthair na Morgachta !. Ach, ar ndoigh, pé áit a mbionn bogearrai Úll, faightear Croí, mar. Cúpla lá ina dhiaidh sin, foilsiodh griangraf den radharc céanna in iris eile.
Ciú:an téama on dTríú Fear a chum agus a sheinn Anton Karas ar an Siotar go dodhearmadta.
So, which Giant of Irish Sport, came, as it were, a cropper in the photo which appeared in the (ahem) Paper of Record. And was not afforded a C.M.F. Yes, The Thrid Man was actually the Harry Lime of Hurling aka D.J. Carey, local hero of the Killkenny Katz. But, a Giant (?) who played stickfighting, (copyright, The Irish Dependent) the game of the Leprechaun? Come– on !
Mar sin, cérbh é an tríú Fatach a thit anuas den ghriangraf san T, UT? Cé eile ach Harry Lime na hIománaiochta, laoch lách áitiúil na gCat., D.J. Carey. Ach, Fathach (?) a d’imir an bualadhbhatai (coipcheart, An Spleách Éireannach) , cluiche na Leipreachán? Tar – ar aghaidh !
(Snap 3):
Curiously, the symbol of St. Mark is a Winged Lion. It was Michael O Leary of Ryanair (which the Merchant of Ennis has togged out in the Clare colours) who was responsible for the 10 euro return ticket from Malta to Venezia.. God be with Mickey O the Flight Stimulator !
One will not hear a bad word about this hero of the hangars. One is almsot tempted to forigive him his insistence on wearing a rugga gansey at press conferences. No doubt it was Ryanair who carried our Lions on a wing and a Boer on their humanitarian mission to distact the locals from their current turmoil in Sud Afika.
(Griangraf 3)
Spéisiúil go leor is é siombal Mharc Naofa ná Leon Sciathánach. Micheal O Leary o Ryanair (ata Ceannai Inise a roghnaight dathanna an Chláir dá loingeas eitleán) ba chuis leis an ticéad fillte o Mhalta go Venezia ar 10 euro. Dia go deo le Mickey O !
Ní éistfidh mé leis an drochfhocal faoi laoch na haingear. Mothaím cathú – beagnach – maithiúnas a léiriú do i ngeall ar na ngeansaithe rugga úd a chaitheann sé ag preasagallaimh..Gan dabht dob é Ryanair a d’iompair ár Leoin ar sciathán agus ar Boer ar a misean uasal daonnúil le haird na ndúchasach a bhaint den chlampar san Afraic Theas.
(Snap 4)
Treviso Airport. Whereas it took 2 minutes to pass through and take the bus to the Rialto bridge it took 2 hours to wait for the return flight .The actual Covid inspection etc only took about 5 mintues but the rest was such that one was actually on the point of checking out the time tables of the shipping lines between Venice and Malta. Reason? There were strategically placed screens within the departure lounge so much so that one was never out of view. They all showed the same 8o second promo video, consisting of the local Treviso rugga team exiting, in full blazeer and bonhomie, and tossing an oval ball between each other across the tarmac, up the gangway before disappearing into a Ryanair plane.. Hayes Hotel wept !
(Girangraf 4)
Aerphort Treviso. San áit nár thog sé ach dhá noiméad le bealach a dhéanamh tríd an aerphort tar éis teacht o Mhalta, ghlac sé dhá uair a chloig ar fhilleadh abhaile. Bíodh nár thog an chigireacht ar cháipéisí Covid ach 5 noimead no mar sin, ba iad cúrsaí feithimh a bhí i gceist sa chuid eile den am. Ar phointe amháin bhios ar tí sceidil ama na línte loinge idir Venezia agus mo cheann scríbe a scrúdú.. An Fáth? Cuireadh go leor, leor scáileán ina n-áit go straitéiseach ar fud ma tolglainne imeachta, i dtreo is nach raibh scáileán ar bith as radharc na dtaistealaithe. Taispeánaadh an scannán grairid bolscaireachta 80 secoind céanna go comhuainrach ar gach scáileán ina fheictear baill na foirne rugbaí Treviso ina mbleásair agus meangadh duine ina ndunre ag trasnú an tarmaic agus na liathroidí ubhchruthacha á sheachadadh go dtí an duine taobh thiar, suas an stangairt go dtí go n-imníonn siad as radharc laisitgh d’eitleán Ryanair. Shil Ostan Hayes deora !
(Snap 5)
Back home in Malta, which had more skin in the Euros Final than most coutnries, and where the two most followed soccer clubs are Man U and Juventus, one approached the BIG FINAL at a certain disadvantge. Having just come off watching a Gaelic game for the ages when Donegal overcame Derry with the last meaningul kick of the game: 16-15. God bless, GAAGO !
Would Wembley match the heights of Páirc Mhc Chumhaill in Ballybofey?Would I see a player of such silken skills as the classy Odhrán Mac Niallais of Gaoth Dobhair?.
(Griangraf 5)
Ar ais sa bhaile i Malta (mara bhfuil tacaiocht ghlorach ar chlubanna mar Man U agus Juventus – tri mhean na Mailtise, ar ndoigh) d’fheachas ar aghaidh chuig Craobh Sacair an hEorpa faoi mhibhuntaiste ar leith. Bhios direact i ndiaidh bheith ag baint iontais as Cluiche Gaelah dochrhreidste ina smachtaigh Dun na nGall foireann Dhoire leis an cic dheireanachach sa chluiche: 16-15. Dia go deo, le GAAGO !
An mbeadh Wembley inchurtha le Pairc Mhic Chumhaill i mBealalch Féich agus an mbeadh peileadoir le scileanna sioda ar aon chaigdean le hOdhran Mac Niallais o Ghaoth Dobhair le feiceail?
The omens were prominising – as early as the second minute, when Shaw, dispensed with Shavian the post with a near miss by quite literally scoring what was indubitably the goal of the tournament.
Alas, we had to wait for two hours for the a similar slice of exciterment, for the epic epiloque. Give a shout out to the shoot out ! In between dragged two hours of a Te Deum to tediuim in the stadium. It reminded me too much of my two housrs in Treviso airport.
As for the Odhrán Mac Niallais play alike: the nearest ws one, Chiesa (14) who looks like a young Marty Robbins from his Rosa’s Cantina days in El Paso when he spotted a good one, it looked like it could run.
Thosaigh an cluiche sacair go tuarúil le dea-comhartha- chomh moc leis an dara noiméad, nuair a fuair Shaw réidh le dea-iarracht agus thug cic chomh trean agus snasta sin don liathroid gurb é cúl féin na turnaimithe an toradh. Mo léan, bhí orainn feitheamh go mifhoighneach ar fheadh dhá uair a chloig lena mhacasamhil de spleodar san eipealog eipiciuil. Bualadh bas don fheile shaorchice ! Idir eatartha lean Te Deum don leadrán (a dh’fheadfadh TDanna leamha an chomhrialtias a chumadh). Chuir sé i gchuimhne domh an dá uair a choig a chaith me ag feitheamh in aerphort Treviso.
Maidir leis an bpeileadoir ar chomhchéim le hOdhran oilte Mac Nialltais, dob é an té ba ghaire na Federico Chiesa (14) on Iodail a d’fhéach cosúil le Marty Robbins og sna laethanta a d’fhreastlaíodh sé ar Chantiná Rosa in El Paso, nuair a thug sé ceann maith faoi ndear, a raibh an chosulacht ann go bhfeadfai se uimhir a dhéanamh.ú
But back to the photorgraph (forragraff in Furey Bros-speak)
This is the home of Syd from Slough a near neighbour here. While Syd has gone indoors, ie., home, he has, alas, yet to emerge. It is deeply worrying.
For it raises the philosophical question: has his going home been of a footballing or a spirtual form.One awaits Syd’s re-emergence with no little, Trappatoni, oops, trepidation.
Ach le filleadh ar an griangraf..
Seo é teach Syd o Slough, comharsa a chonaíonn in aice liom. Bíodh go ndeachaigh Syd abhaile, i.e. isteach ina theach, mo léan, níor tháining sé amach o shin. Díol mor míshonais atá ann.
Mar dúisíonn sé ceist fhealsunta: ar imigh sé abhaile ar bhonn pheile no ar bhonn spioradálta?
Fantar lena aththeacht amach le Trapattoini, mo leithsceal, le himní nach beag.
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