It is not only the Northern Yunes what have a prob with the Leprechaun, A Mháistir Ionúin Blog.
Last Sunday on The Ivan Yates Show on Newstalk fm which is part of the DOBland Dissemination Duopoly the former Royal Meath midfielder, Liam Hayes, opined that ‘he was a huge fan of the GAA, apart that is, from the Gaeilgeoirí part’.
Hmmmm.
Now just as it is ok for dudes who are denizens of, say, Bronzeville in the South Side of Chicago to use the N-word as they will it is a self-inflicted ko for a Southern Yune like Liam Hayes, the sports reporting Man from the (gulp) Irish Daily Mail, to use the G-word in the tone of voice he employed.
This Liam Hayes, btw, is in no way to be confused with the Liam Hayes who is a musicianer from Chicago though the confusion is understandable on a number of levels. The latter trades under the stage name of (gasp) Plush. And one of whose big hits was, erm, ‘No Education’.
Leo the Tolerant would have found himself best pleased with the Southern Yune yabbadabbadoo of Liam ‘Ceo’ Hayes. Leo the Tolerant sees himself in the same Apostolic line as Garret the Good with this one crucial difference: the latter was known to sport ill-matching ankle socks.
Last Sunday, also, in an interview which Leo the Tolerant deigned to grant to the Hindu-supporting Sindo, which is also, curiously, part of the DOBland Disseminaton Duopoly (see above) declaimed along the following Loins, oops, Lions, oops, Lines:
-People think I am all style and no substance. Well, as sure as my name is Super-Sub-Stance they have another think coming.
Leo the Tolerant has already pledged his substantial backing for the LGBT Lobby when he addressed, as the Big T, a Hosting of the Horse-Frighteners in, of all places, the site of the Dublin horse and hairy ass fair in Smithfield. That was on Lá Bandhearg/ Think-Pink Day.
It is unfair to whine as the cnawvshawlies do ( and who are always with us, alas, but, TG, fast dwindling in ‘the only English-speaking country still in the EU’) that Leo has not been quite so Tolerant with the LPRN Lobby. He did not attend, much less twitter a twit of support to their Lá Dearg / Red Letter Day.
(The latter’s day out is dervied from the the second part of the third line of this deathless quatrain, penned by a Ballyshannon man and part of a pome which became the German Queen Victoria’s favourite English pome, The Fairies :
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!)
But then, there are Fairies and then there are fairies.
Already, Leo the In-Tolerant, oops, Leo who’s into Tolerance, has already dropped the L-word (for Leprehcaun) from the last remaining Government Department of the Free Southern Stateen still displaying L-plates.
The Perkin, happily in not in the, erm, camp of the cnawvshawliess, on this one. For he, unblinkered, can recognise it for the Toblerone-shaped bar of Tolerance that it actually is: by deleting the offensive L-word in one brave stroke Leo the Tolerant makes ‘the only English-speaking country still in the EU’ a (gasp) Warm House for the convulsed-by-compulsion Bilingual Billy Boys (Anguish and Ulster Scots).
One can easily imagine the ancient josher-wallahs in the Colonial Club in Darjeeling beneath the Toblerone-shaped Himalayas nodding in agreememt even as they slurp their daily bowl of piping-hot, rum-bolstered mullitawney soup.
Speaking of Warm Houses, there was none warmer in the FSS yesterday than the former house atop Howth Head of Lord Craze O’Brain which, sadly, burned down, to a cinder. Mercifully, it was vacant. Reminiscent of a turf-fire the Bog-oak Monolith might well have rekindled with their (gulp) inlammatory rhetoric.
Leo the Tolerant, nephew of two Indian dissidents, showed his style during a recent visit by his counterpart from Ottawa; and into the coverage of which the Galiphate of the DOBland media indubitably put the OTT. (Look away, Una Mull, look away !)
Tiocfaidh a Straw ?
Leo the T’s two uncles had, for prison bedding,
Straw: as for d’ Empah exit the Raj was heading
For the PM Canadian
Eschewed d’Arcadian
Leo the T’s two ankles had a same-socks wedding.
To conclude, and still staying with matters (gulp) Canadian, also yesterday in the Dublin Circuit Court, one Brian Murphy was fined 900 squids and also, fined the suggestion by the beak that he pen a ‘letter of apology’ to the Canadian Ambassador, Kevin Vickers .
(900?)
It will be recalled that Brian the Irishman was the defendant who compelled the plaintiff Kevin the Canadian to get his diplomatic knickers in a twist when he interrupted (verbally) a solemn commemorative ceremony celebrating the role of the Khaki-clad Keepers of the Peace in the risible Rising of Easter 16. The site was the immaculately approrpriate Grangegorman, location of Baile Átha Cliath’s Bedlam a hundred years ago or so.
The former mountie (see Leo the Tolerant’s taste in ankle socks above) felt he had no alternative but to ‘get his man’ when the impolite local interrupter felt compelled to be, erm, mounted and wrassled to the ground. Not least by the restrained and restraining Ambassador Brian whose temper was blazing at this, erm, impudent header. And forced to act, against his will, the de rigeur gurrier, a word which is seemingly derived from the French Canadian, guerriere.
(See blazing heather and O’Brian above).
Little did the commonality realise that this piece of impromptu theatre of the absurd was but a free preview of the Amharclann Náisiúnta / Abbey Theatre’s central celebration of the same Risible Rising of 16 later in the year of our Lord, 2016:
-Observe the Sons of Ulster marching to the tune of Somme Enchanted Evening.
Whose crucial tirade is a restrained rant against the Leprhechaun-speaking P. Pearse. Delivered, as it happened, on the same stage which has been previously, erm, moutned by protesting members of the Galiphate and the Galiban. Between them, and their Auxies of the Paliphate and the Paliban, it was estimated that up to (gulp) 900 protestors mounted the stage where the history of hysteria down the century has made it groan.
As some wag chin-stroked it:
-Like a crowd scene from Ben Her !
Far from disgracing themselves, they were in fact hailed as Heroines by this graceful chorus of cheerleaders in the hackettetariat.:
-Not merely not Gaelic but Gay as well !
But then, in the FSS, there are Fairies and then there are fairies.
Or, as Christy M might sing it:
-Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór.
In the name of God! This article’s unreadable. Are punctuation marks being rationed?
..Sorry to read you found it so, John, though the reference to punctuation marks has one somewhat flummoxed.
Unlike, say, punk, one has always had a hello and hat-tipping relationship with Punctuation ever since we shared a desk during our, erm, Grammar School Days in the Last Century.
He has proved to be more than a generous old boy whenever one went looking for the loan of a comma (,) or an exclamation mark (!) or, if one happened to run short of a colon (:) or indeed, single quotatation marks (‘ ‘).
Not to mention, the separating semicolon (;) which, as any reasonable, run-of-the-mill pedant will recognise, is a pure hoor for slipping through the hole in one’s pocket dictionary.
And indeed whenever his cousin, Poncaíocht from Connemara, was in town on a visit, he too proved to be just as giving as his host; thus, should one have found one’s stock of lán stadanna (.) or comharthai ceiste (?) or indeed, an comhartha uaillbhreasa (!) itself, he too proved to be the, erm, bronntannas who continued to bronn.
One, indeed, has quite lost track of the number of times one has wheelbarrowed one’s borrowings, backwards and forwards, forwards and backwards, between Castle Warbeck and Chez Punctuation !
Curiously, John, the following word-puzzle appears in Wikipedia, in which proper punctuaion marks must be added to give the sentence meaning:
• James while John had had had had had had had had had had had a better effect on the teacher,
This is just the kinda word-puzzle which would have had of having Asterix, the French cartoon character, throw Le Wobbly:
– ***$%+???>:£!&^^!!!!!!****
Moving further east, John, to das Vaterland, home of the marks, one will commence one’s punctuation rehabilitation by easy listening to the ultimate anti-punk, James Last.
Whose signature tune was:
-Orange. Blossom. Special !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mein Gott ! must dash –
Auf wiedersehen………..
.
I enjoy most of PW’s delightful anarchic verbal meanderings,particularly his puns. However I regret his unveiled hostility to the gay community. The use of such terms as ‘fairy’ is simply unacceptable in the 21st century. Indeed could be construed by some.as hate speech though I am sure it is not intended as such. You are better than that PW.
Au contraire, BP, I harbour no hatred whatsoever towards the gay community; indeed I number many fabulous members of the same community among my greatest heroes – from Caravaggio to Schubert to Micheál Mac Liammóir and Joe Dolan himself.
Though, crucially, their orientation has diddley-squat to do with my admiration. Nor ought it.
Indeed, I probably count some among my favourite acquaintances – I say probably, because none has so far announced himself or herself as such. Nor would I expect them to: matters to do with the privates ought to remain private. I couldn’t care less what their orientation is, as long as they don’t make a song and dance of it or bedeck it with bells and whistles. Crass lacks class.
It’s not something I would do myself. Do unto others, etc
.
-Póg mo Zappone?
Nooooo, thank yoooooo
What I am not best pleased with, however, is the modern phenomenon of what is known as the Gay Lobby down here in the Free Southern Stateen being quarantined from ANY hint of criticism in the monominded media on Liffeyside.
To give one pertinent example: their commandeering of the tiller of the Amharclann Náisiúnta to the detriment of the (gulp) First National Language has made them celebrated as hero/heroines rather than harrumphed at as hijackers. Which, in any sane society, would have been the case.
Where ignorance is Panti Bliss, ‘tis wise to folly the media mob – on Liffeyside.
Which brings one neatly to the question of Fairies and fairies.
What makes this cotton-wooling of the Gay Lobby all the more galling for the Gael in Gall-Éire is The Contrast.
Now that might sound like the title of a Horror Fillum and in fact is not far from being such. The Contrast refers to the treatment meted out in the mononminded media and their political lackeys, to the Lephrechaun (the Irish Fairy argot) and the Lobby of the Gay.
One does not use the term, Leprechaun Lobby, not because it does not exist, but because it has been rendered invisible, muscled undergound, in Offical Shoneenia, aka the Free Southern Stateen.
While fairy with a small f, on one hand, is verboten/ as ord one can with, erm, gay abandon, use the racial hate word ‘Gaeilgeoir’ with impunity.
(One is, of course, referring to the mis-use of ‘Gaeilgeoir’ by Leprechaun-loathers).
The most public of all human activities (it separates us from the quadrupeds, Mimsy) is the use of language. Yet, in the FSS the public has been rendered private or (gulp) pubic while the private or (gasp) pubic has been morphed into the public.
Leprechaun, in the process, has been reduced to the low-rent level of a Two-way Teanga an Teileafóin, where those Leps who wish to speak in their lingo of choice find themselves, in the main, compelled to do so in the privacy of their own telephones to like-minded, lack-witted Leps.
Shockingly, Gay has shanghaied the front row seat where the Gaeilgeoir buttock ought to be
.
Two recent examples of this bizarre toxic czarism in Joxer-land will suffice.
For they illustrate just how pleased – by way of comparison – the national flag-burning Johnny Rotten would have been with the capital hamlet of the Garrison Stateen, aka, the Only. English-.Speaking. Country. Still. In. The. EU. Or rather, the Only. Only-English-.Speaking.Country. still. In. The. EU, bejabers.
1. The bland indifference displayed, south of the Black Sow’s Dyke, to the racial hatred hurled at its Irish Fairy lingo/ First Offiical Language by the newly flush, Bushmiller’s daughter.
2.The latest whingefest at the waste of precious resources by the outrageous employment of a (gasp) ‘batallion of redundant Leprechaun translators of bureaucratic bumpf ’ in Brussels. Happily, I find myself in (partial) agreement on this second point.
Why not, f’instance, syphon off ‘three or four hyphenated single spies ‘ from this ‘batallion in Brussels’ and employ them in the Amharclann Náisiúnta on Middle Abbey Street, Dublin 1 to Do. The. Gobsmacking. Obvious. In. The. Interests. Of. e-Quality ?
Bizarrely (see above, under czarism) the current (gasp) European Commentator of the Year (2017) resides on Liffeyside.
Re-spect.
Where he, a gusher of ideas, indeed, the Old Faithful of the Yellowpack National Capital, once opearated as a Literary Editor (?) of the Amharclann Náisiúnta (see also above) and never EVER came up with this simple, to the point of being simplistic idea.
It’s not exactly,erm, Out-of-Pocket Science.
Slán anois, seo chugam mo Limo Sínte !
Think I lost you somewhere in the Maze of as(s)(h)ides and double-lawn tondues. I am (panti) Blissfully ignorant of the intricacies of the politics of the Amharclann Naisiúnta or Adharc-Clann na Mainistire. I hold no briefs for Panti Bliss but he/she seems congenial enough and I have never heard him/her utter a word against Gaeilge. I have no problem with anyone calling me a Ghaeilgeoir, though I am not a gay-ligetheoir
I am unaware that there is a pan-pinko conspiracy against Gaeilge. I would be fairly certain that the pro and anti Gaeilge factions of the gay community , would percentage-wise be pretty similar to those of the mód díreach tendency. That great charlatan of the Irish theatre Micheál MacLiammór, though himself of Anglo-Sacsún schtock,was a great aficianado of the mother thong and articulated it beautifully.
And there is no excuse for using the term “fairy”.
Arb fhearr leat queer, a. Bhriain?
B’fhearr liom ‘gay’ nó ‘aerach’ A Fiosraigh.