Jude, if you accept that John Hume sacrificed his party in an effort to bring PSF in from the cold, knowing what the outcome might be, can you really see any politician of the same stature in the Leinster House legislature. Nice try but no cigar, unfortunately.
Congratulations on getting the letter printed Jude.We could write 10, 000 letters and neither II or IT would publish them. Already some commentators and most scribes are pushing the ‘why can’t that lot get on?’ line.Or simply blaming SF.Already MArtyn (love that ‘y’) Turner has a cartoon showing a paramilitary figure taking off ‘power-sharing’ slippers and putting on ‘more comfortable’ boots labelled ‘sectarianism’. Clearly a dig at SF. Philip Ryan, a duly compliant Indo hack tweeted that SF had ‘collapsed a government over a row about wood pellets’. Today’s online Indo has Arlene ‘s ‘Queen’s Speech’ on video. However not all the Indo hacks are lying down. Martina Devlin and Collette Browne, who refuse to be cloned à la Jim Cusack,were quite clear as to where the blame lay. Even Pat Rabbite on the Late Debate was clear that McGuinness had little alternative but to resign. Incidentally Cormac O’ hEadhra the presenter of that show plumbed debths of ignorance and showed levels of bias and sheer incompetence astounding even to ‘ those of us inured to RTE’S historic ‘s anti Northern nationalist prejudice.
“We could write 10, 000 letters and neither II or IT would publish them” – perhaps, perhaps not. But they would most definitely be VERY upset. The media get very edgy when critical letters land on their desks, even if they do bin them. VERY edgy…
Reading your letter out of Deft fFeld today in The Unionist Times, Esteemed Blogmeister, one was reminded of a fellow with his trousers rolled half way up his legs and paddling in an ice- cool shallow pool of platitudinous attitudes.
One recommends it not be done too often, especially in the bleak mid-winter time. TUT has a knack of setting up what it considers an Aunt Sally (in this case, Uncle Pally) before knocking same down again with the a few hefty socks by the orthodox block.
In fact, the process of stepping back from the heaping of belated praise on Martin McGuinness has already begun in the Monochrome Media on Liffeyside.
Take yesterday, for example, during the News at One, on RTE radio, the broadcasting wing of The Unionist Times.
At around 1.15 pm, a kind of hush descended over the glib and happy land of Hibernia (Latin, of rourse, for Winter – strange how one manages to squirrel old Latinism in one’s siieve-like head), in fact, a kind of Herman and his Hermits kinda hush.
-I am Sir Oracle and let no dog bark !
Although it was yesterday nonetheless the microphone was handed over to The Day before Yesterday’s Man aka Sir Oracle to address the nation in that peculiar speaking way of his which is as tedious to listen to as, say, watching a maiden aunt knitting a voluminous cardigan for her favourite nephew.
When Sir Oracle was in his pomp, in the miliieu of the undrained swamp that was Section 31, it was customary for supine RTE reporters to be tentative in their questioning of he who is Not as Famous as He would like to Be. Much in the way a dude shopping in the local Mini-Market is tentative in questioning the cutie behind the counter for the location of the (gulp) toilet rolls.
Even though Sir Oracle was compelled to play second fiddle during the interminable course of his Long Mile Road of a career , as under his more famous better his genius was rebuked, nonetheless this did not prevent him from developing his intelligence.
His promotional intelligence.
His self-promotional intelligence.
The Timid Tims in RTE were not behind the door in facilitating this development of the self-promotional intelligence of Seamus Mallon (for it was actually he !). Yesterday, the Timid Tims, for a change, decided to be behind the door as they headed off for a cup of Horlicks and left the microphone of the station to Sir Oracle to embark of a solo run, sans interruption for the, erm, delectation of the nation.
Reminding the avid listenership, unwittingly, perhaps, of Sir Oracle’s previous footballing careeer, as he motormouthed along, untackled, toe to hand, hand to mouth, mouth to cliche.
All the old familiar SDLP bromides were brought along for the ride by this natural born Yawnaiste: from (yawn, stretch, trouser cough) Sunningdale (with its – nod, nod – connotations of slow learners), Sunnindale, Sunningdale and, oh yes, Sunningdale (once more with its -hint, hint – connotations of slow learners).
The one difference between his former brow-knitted bromides of yore was the replacement of the V-word by the C-word in his grumpy lumpy cardigan of verbiage:
-Contrivance is the new Violence.
The gist of his pissed-off pronouncements could be summarised in the following Olympian shakedown of The Great Shakes:
-A plaque, oops, a plague on both their houses.
(Both, erm, Montagues and Capulets).
Staying in Italian mode his patience-taxing text veered from Verona to Rome in a droning, ochoning way:
-Beware the Ides of March !
Presumably he was referring to the probable date of the upcoming Election and a reminder too of two things: how Ide is his favourite monosyllabic word and how he once trod the boards of amateur theatricals.
His roles obviously encompassing the wrinkled old Soothsayer in Julius Caeser (Beware ! Beware !) to that of the Marlon Brando character in ‘On the Waterfront, Belfast’ :
-Ide a-been a contender for the Nobel Prize if only Ide a-been born in a Five County Ulster.
-Ide a-been a bigger COG in the political wheel is Ide a-been born in a Five Country Ulster.
(Note: note the absence of dots in the COG here. Otherwised it would have read C.O.G. Down here on Liffeyside this C.O.G. is an ancronym for Crotchety Old Git and so, is in NO way relevant in this instance).
And it was then that the penny and/ or euro dropped:
Sir Oracle is on record as saying that his finest oratorical moments were in the hallowed halls of Westminster, aka, the MF of Parliaments: this might well be the clue to his cardigan-kitting style of communication.
Flying over the Irish Sea to and from the Mainland, from and to the Colony, from and to the Mainland, from and to the Colony, he would have cruised, even Conor Cruised at 32,000 feet over a vast and volumious expanse of water, known as, erm:
Possibly someone could help me in my search for what seems like the Abominable Snowman.
Since Marty’s resignation speech I have been searching for ‘get well soon’ messages, through any medium, from any DUP politicians.
Am I just too naive for my own good?
Maybe not a get well soon Sherdy, but its probably as close as it gets. May also highlight the internal factions of the DUP at war and that the Paisleyites are still angry at AF getting the top post, her being, well, an Anglican CoI
Loved it Perkin. Mr Mallon is the centre of gravitas in this country. Exhume him.at every crisis, remove the stake from his heart and the gaelic, sorry garlic, from his old turkey neck.When I hear “Malin Head” I think of his craggy features And hear his gravelly voice serrated with a million cigarette butts. Shame-us for allowing the media to play him like a nine pound trout. (Not a ten pound tout!) Or vice versa.
As always well said Jude!
Lets remain optimistic and dare to believe all shades of green will unite in what must a watershed election.
I just hope people are registered and will come out to vote using PR to their best advantage.
well said Jude,
Thank you, Bridget. I suggest 10,000 people write the IT/Indo a similar letter.
Jude, if you accept that John Hume sacrificed his party in an effort to bring PSF in from the cold, knowing what the outcome might be, can you really see any politician of the same stature in the Leinster House legislature. Nice try but no cigar, unfortunately.
Congratulations on getting the letter printed Jude.We could write 10, 000 letters and neither II or IT would publish them. Already some commentators and most scribes are pushing the ‘why can’t that lot get on?’ line.Or simply blaming SF.Already MArtyn (love that ‘y’) Turner has a cartoon showing a paramilitary figure taking off ‘power-sharing’ slippers and putting on ‘more comfortable’ boots labelled ‘sectarianism’. Clearly a dig at SF. Philip Ryan, a duly compliant Indo hack tweeted that SF had ‘collapsed a government over a row about wood pellets’. Today’s online Indo has Arlene ‘s ‘Queen’s Speech’ on video. However not all the Indo hacks are lying down. Martina Devlin and Collette Browne, who refuse to be cloned à la Jim Cusack,were quite clear as to where the blame lay. Even Pat Rabbite on the Late Debate was clear that McGuinness had little alternative but to resign. Incidentally Cormac O’ hEadhra the presenter of that show plumbed debths of ignorance and showed levels of bias and sheer incompetence astounding even to ‘ those of us inured to RTE’S historic ‘s anti Northern nationalist prejudice.
“We could write 10, 000 letters and neither II or IT would publish them” – perhaps, perhaps not. But they would most definitely be VERY upset. The media get very edgy when critical letters land on their desks, even if they do bin them. VERY edgy…
Especially in green ink. That’ll make them sit up and take note.
Scintillating cynicism and amazing repartee. You have excelled yourself,gb
fiosrach
Thanks. Praise like that makes it all worthwhile.
Reading your letter out of Deft fFeld today in The Unionist Times, Esteemed Blogmeister, one was reminded of a fellow with his trousers rolled half way up his legs and paddling in an ice- cool shallow pool of platitudinous attitudes.
One recommends it not be done too often, especially in the bleak mid-winter time. TUT has a knack of setting up what it considers an Aunt Sally (in this case, Uncle Pally) before knocking same down again with the a few hefty socks by the orthodox block.
In fact, the process of stepping back from the heaping of belated praise on Martin McGuinness has already begun in the Monochrome Media on Liffeyside.
Take yesterday, for example, during the News at One, on RTE radio, the broadcasting wing of The Unionist Times.
At around 1.15 pm, a kind of hush descended over the glib and happy land of Hibernia (Latin, of rourse, for Winter – strange how one manages to squirrel old Latinism in one’s siieve-like head), in fact, a kind of Herman and his Hermits kinda hush.
-I am Sir Oracle and let no dog bark !
Although it was yesterday nonetheless the microphone was handed over to The Day before Yesterday’s Man aka Sir Oracle to address the nation in that peculiar speaking way of his which is as tedious to listen to as, say, watching a maiden aunt knitting a voluminous cardigan for her favourite nephew.
When Sir Oracle was in his pomp, in the miliieu of the undrained swamp that was Section 31, it was customary for supine RTE reporters to be tentative in their questioning of he who is Not as Famous as He would like to Be. Much in the way a dude shopping in the local Mini-Market is tentative in questioning the cutie behind the counter for the location of the (gulp) toilet rolls.
Even though Sir Oracle was compelled to play second fiddle during the interminable course of his Long Mile Road of a career , as under his more famous better his genius was rebuked, nonetheless this did not prevent him from developing his intelligence.
His promotional intelligence.
His self-promotional intelligence.
The Timid Tims in RTE were not behind the door in facilitating this development of the self-promotional intelligence of Seamus Mallon (for it was actually he !). Yesterday, the Timid Tims, for a change, decided to be behind the door as they headed off for a cup of Horlicks and left the microphone of the station to Sir Oracle to embark of a solo run, sans interruption for the, erm, delectation of the nation.
Reminding the avid listenership, unwittingly, perhaps, of Sir Oracle’s previous footballing careeer, as he motormouthed along, untackled, toe to hand, hand to mouth, mouth to cliche.
All the old familiar SDLP bromides were brought along for the ride by this natural born Yawnaiste: from (yawn, stretch, trouser cough) Sunningdale (with its – nod, nod – connotations of slow learners), Sunnindale, Sunningdale and, oh yes, Sunningdale (once more with its -hint, hint – connotations of slow learners).
The one difference between his former brow-knitted bromides of yore was the replacement of the V-word by the C-word in his grumpy lumpy cardigan of verbiage:
-Contrivance is the new Violence.
The gist of his pissed-off pronouncements could be summarised in the following Olympian shakedown of The Great Shakes:
-A plaque, oops, a plague on both their houses.
(Both, erm, Montagues and Capulets).
Staying in Italian mode his patience-taxing text veered from Verona to Rome in a droning, ochoning way:
-Beware the Ides of March !
Presumably he was referring to the probable date of the upcoming Election and a reminder too of two things: how Ide is his favourite monosyllabic word and how he once trod the boards of amateur theatricals.
His roles obviously encompassing the wrinkled old Soothsayer in Julius Caeser (Beware ! Beware !) to that of the Marlon Brando character in ‘On the Waterfront, Belfast’ :
-Ide a-been a contender for the Nobel Prize if only Ide a-been born in a Five County Ulster.
-Ide a-been a bigger COG in the political wheel is Ide a-been born in a Five Country Ulster.
(Note: note the absence of dots in the COG here. Otherwised it would have read C.O.G. Down here on Liffeyside this C.O.G. is an ancronym for Crotchety Old Git and so, is in NO way relevant in this instance).
And it was then that the penny and/ or euro dropped:
Sir Oracle is on record as saying that his finest oratorical moments were in the hallowed halls of Westminster, aka, the MF of Parliaments: this might well be the clue to his cardigan-kitting style of communication.
Flying over the Irish Sea to and from the Mainland, from and to the Colony, from and to the Mainland, from and to the Colony, he would have cruised, even Conor Cruised at 32,000 feet over a vast and volumious expanse of water, known as, erm:
-Cardigan Bay.
A smile per line, Mr Warbeck, and all easily verifiable truisms.
Possibly someone could help me in my search for what seems like the Abominable Snowman.
Since Marty’s resignation speech I have been searching for ‘get well soon’ messages, through any medium, from any DUP politicians.
Am I just too naive for my own good?
“MF of Parliaments” – shrieks of laffter so loud, the present Mrs C rushed in, half-hoping I’d been assassinated…
http://www.newsletter.co.uk/news/love-your-enemies-says-dup-man-on-mcguinness-illness-1-7766567
Maybe not a get well soon Sherdy, but its probably as close as it gets. May also highlight the internal factions of the DUP at war and that the Paisleyites are still angry at AF getting the top post, her being, well, an Anglican CoI
Thanks TL – had seen that one but regarded it more as a message to the faithful, as it was about Marty, rather than to him.
Loved it Perkin. Mr Mallon is the centre of gravitas in this country. Exhume him.at every crisis, remove the stake from his heart and the gaelic, sorry garlic, from his old turkey neck.When I hear “Malin Head” I think of his craggy features And hear his gravelly voice serrated with a million cigarette butts. Shame-us for allowing the media to play him like a nine pound trout. (Not a ten pound tout!) Or vice versa.
As always well said Jude!
Lets remain optimistic and dare to believe all shades of green will unite in what must a watershed election.
I just hope people are registered and will come out to vote using PR to their best advantage.
It’s time to turn the heat up on the DUP
Grma, Hugh