Friday, April 8, 2016


Yesterday saw another doss day for most of our newly elected representatives. In short, many voted for another eight days off as their first point of business. Then they tried to elect a leader for the country.
First up, after some sycophantic ravings from selected members of the party faithful, was acting-caretaker-accidental taoiseach, Enda Kenny. He failed, his third attempt in five weeks. Fourth in all? A record perhaps? More mauling for Kenny, he got less support than when he first went for the post a few weeks back. Labour finally deserting him.
Joan 'days are numbered' Burton haranguing Fianna Fail on their past  - they're on equal terms now on that one.
Next up was Michael Martin, vetted as the first Fianna fail leader not to be become taoiseach, and so far that remains so. He wants to lead a minority government. He too, failed, but he's not the one facing the end of his political career.
Then it was Ruth Coppinger's turn, the first female to ever stand for election of taoiseach of the country. It does tell a story in itself. She too was denied after polling admirably in double-figures.
No-one else was put forward. Gerry Adams called it a 'charade.' Outside the little cohort of interested parties, i think there's consensus on that.

Next up was an evening meeting on neutral ground between the natural bed-fellows. Tipple of choice. First stroke to Enda - he offers Martin an equal partnership in government with the help of a couple of Indies for security. History is in the making. Martin sleeps on it. Fine Gael teamsters feel smug. They are in the driving seat. Civil war politics is over. Who would refuse?
But the soldiers of destiny are having none of it. Brief meeting today - short. No deal. The charade continues.
Not a great time to be governing - the countries been stripped bare, there's little or no money and there are major crisis' in health and homelessness - to name but two. Not to mention the carnivorous dealings of the capital structures of state, NAMA being one. Defending tax haven accusations, both at home and abroad, being another. Shaky economic foundations worldwide and a geopolitical situation that's look more precarious with each passing day.

I doubt another election will sort the men out from the boys. There are no men. Unfortunately, world wide, statesmen seem to be in terminal decline. No vision much anymore. Election promises that turn out to be lies. The lust for globalization creating more division in societies everywhere than perhaps at any other time in history. The middle-class are the new working-class. What's left is swept up in no-hour contracts, work-for-free schemes, ineffective courses or long periods of soul-draining life on the dole.
What's left after that is a vast network of carers and volunteers, picking up the pieces of a century of failure of the political classes in Ireland - most voiceless. Barely funded. Not funded at all.

After the downfall of Charles J. Haughey, Larry suggested Ireland should go rogue and elect a Dictator. One candidate from the left, the right and the centre...and a novelty candidate from the Independent spectrum. All set out their stall - first past the post. Ten year term. £100k-a year. Tax-free. Full-reign. One-term. A guillotine vote at the end. Larry always had a touch of French about him.
'Keep them on their toes,' he'd say, painting up his latest placard.
One of the many ideas Larry had. All in his manifesto. I saw it a few times. Back when he and Leo were mates. Rather thick in content. Larry thought a lot as he stitched his animals together.
Someone must have it now. But who? Maybe I'll give Joe Lumley a call again. Fuckin' jet-setter, never in the office. I see he's into Financial Holdings now.

Ain't they all. 

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