Please Sir, the dog ate me copy!

Teacher : Son, where's your homework?
Bertie : Ehh, sir, I forgot to bring in me copy.
Teacher : I thought I told you to bring it in today.
Bertie : I know sir, sorry sir.
Teacher : So what happened?
Bertie : I had it on the kitchen table this morning sir.
Teacher : OK. And?
Bertie : Ehh, I thought I had it in me bag.
Teacher : But you didn't. So where is it?
Bertie : Ehh, I can't remember sir.
Teacher : Oh you can,. Think.
Bertie: Sorry sir, I can't remember.
Teacher : OK I've had enough of this. Ahern, you're on
detention every night for the next month.
Bertie : Ah sir.
Teacher : And extra homework.
Bertie : Ah sir, that's not fair.
Teacher : And you'll be sitting extra tests.
Bertie : Ah come on sir, that's not on.
Teacher : And you're off to see the headmaster.
Bertie : Ah please sir, no way. ........ Wait!
Teacher : What?
Bertie : Sir, I remember. I remember what happened?
Teacher : Really? Tell us.
Bertie : Sir, I had me copy on the kitchen table, I was about
to put it in my schoolbag, but then out of the blue,
next thing the dog jumped up and snatched the copy
out of me hand, and ripped it to shreds.
Teacher : Oh.
Bertie : Yessir, that's it sir. The dog ate me copy. Sir.

Don't you just love the Mahon Tribunal!

Mr 'The Dog ate me copy' addresses the American Houses of
Congress tomorrow. He might even wear his favourite green
Darby O'Gill tie, and put on his statesman voice. The aul wans
will say a few rosaries for him. There'll be a few Ceili dancers, and
a maiden playing a harp. Diddley eye!

Oink Oink!

Friday Poem

Thank God for Friday, Thank you God,
I thought this damn week would never end;
Get me a Bloody Mary under a parasol
and a double dose of Panadol

Find me a cubbyhole in a quiet pub,
with a stiff drink on a summer's day;
let a ray of sun rest upon my cheek
to put this goddam week to sleep.

Gormley's China Crisis

Is the power going to Archbishop John Gormley's head? Fresh from his (and Mary Harney's) ever so unsubtle putsch on Bertie, His Eminence's moral crusade has gone into overdrive. I suppose if you're one of the triad of supermen destined to save the planet (Will Smith and Bruce Willis being the others), there's no point messing about, is there?

Usually, His Eminence makes his pronouncements in an outdoor setting, and he likes to wear his favourite prop - his all-weather, waterproof coat. Watching him, one feels like you're getting a good ticking off from Sherpa Tensing.

Why is this significant? Well, His Eminence's latest outburst was directed at the mighty Chinese, no less. You can check out his verbal Kung Fu on Youtube by clicking on the title of this post. So Gormley is dishing it out to the Chinese? Hi-Ya! Out of curiosity, I decided to go out to my coatstand in my hall, and check where my Columbia waterproof jacket was made. You guessed it. Made in China. What about my Lowe Alpine Fleece? China. My Timberland Jeans? China. Folks, chances are most of the nicknacks in your house originated from China. To put a figure on it, imports of goods into Ireland from China and Hong Kong increased from €4,768m in 2006 to €5,148m in 2007 (+8%). Exports of goods from Ireland to China and Hong Kong increased from €1,498m in 2006 to €1,950m in 2007 (+30%). Basically, we get to buy cheap goods from China, including fancy waterproof coats.

So, your Eminence, next time you feel like having a cut off the Chinese, take a look inside the lapel of your jacket, and see where it was made. Take off your pants, and see where they were made. And if you really want to make a stand for the people of Tibet, start putting your money where your mouth is.

Oink Oink!

We're a livin in a pigshty!

Forget the forty shades of green folks. Poor aul Ireland is experiencing a litter epidemic. At every four-cross roads, in every ditch at the side of every bohereen, the Oirish are dumping their domestic waste. And Official Ireland doesn't give a damn.

Archbishop John Gormley, Minister for the Environment and number one treehugger, is too busy saving the planet to even notice. Instead of opening his eyes, and taking in the damage to our countryside, the Archbishop is stuck in his office in Merrion Street devising emergency strategies for Judgement Day, Armageddon, and God knows what. Yikes, here comes the tsunami! I'm going to drown. Oh wait, here comes Gormley on his rubber dinghy. We're saved, we're saved!

Not that the Al Gore wackybacky is confined to the Green Party. Our County Councils, who we pay to collect our rubbish, are clearly very relaxed about the situation as well. PaddyThePig, upon informing his County Council about some disgraceful local dumping of litter was abruptly told "The Council have a policy of not collecting illegally dumped litter." In other words, chill out man, we ain't gonna collect it.

Should we be surprised? No. We always knew there were scumbags in our midst. Regrettably, they are now on a crusade to avoid paying their waste disposal bills, and to hell with the consequences. The authorities are either too lazy, or have their heads buried so deep in the sand (or up their asses), to do anything about it. And you call pigs dirty! Gimme a break!

Oink Oink!

I'm Paddy The Pig. Oink Oink!

Paddy the Pig here. Casting a sceptical eye over all things Oirish. If like me, you're fed up with Official Oirland (that's Piglish for Ireland by the way) ; if you've just woken up with the biggest financial hangover of your life after Bertie's house party ; if you're fed up of the Government, the estate agents, the mortgage brokers, the bankers, the cheerleaders and the apologists for the boom that never was - the Celtic Tiger; if you've had enough camaile to last you a lifetime ; if you want to separate from the herd, and are looking for some straight talking about what is really going on in Oirland, then stick around.

Oink Oink!