Gene Kerrigan: As Time Goes By
It was a mess right from the start. Cock-up City. I didn't want to go to Chequers, in the first place, but bloody Jim bloody Dooge stuck his greasy finger in the pie and stirred things up. "Offer to go to Chequers, Garret," he said, "For security reasons, Garret," he said. "Put her under an obligation, Garret," he said, "Get you off on the right foot, Garret," he said. A real deep-dyed, spit in the cup, God I must be dreaming, cock-up.
The following are some of the Major points from the "National Plan" drawn up and published last month by the executive of the Spontaneous Aggravation Party (SAP). The plan was unveiled in the midst of great pomp and ceremony in the lounge of The Oasis before an invited audience.
(The plinking music fades and we hear the voice of Ireland's Most Civilised Man, Sir John Bowman, for it is he.)
Welcome to Day By Day, and on this evening's . . . sorry, this morning's programme we have our usual collecction of items, em, all the, em, topics which are, em, topical. So to speak.
Walk in the door and Oh Lord, so it's going to be one of these. There he is, talking out of one side of his mouth, drinking a pint of Harp through the other. Tosh Finnegan doesn't like to waste good drinking time. Shudda known he'd be here.
Bloody bus strike. A CIE management that sends redundancy notices to men dying of cancer. You wonder why there's a bus strike. Bloody CIE.
Profiles in Courage: 2.
Dermot Metcalf, Fianna Fail TD for Dublin West Central
It's some years since I got onto the Readers Digest's hit list. About 1978, maybe. They sent me a letter saying I had been specially chosen, by computer, because of my fine intellect, social sophistication, personal charm and all round gee whizz goodness, to participate in a fun experiment they were organising. Love that kind of flattery, except that at least three-quarters of the people I know received similar letters, and a good two-thirds of them are well-known hairbags and dog breaths (Mick Belker is a juicy little guy, isn't he?).
Dear Ken, Sorry about the long silence. Things pile up. Just finish one month and the next one starts. You know the kind of thing.
DUMPETTY-DUMPETTY MUSIC, and then Pat Kenny appears, his eiuows braced on the desk and him staring intently at the camera like he might suddenly leap up and wrestle it to the ground. Hint of a Boyish Smile. (Thank God, that means they're not doing the North tonight. When they do the North it's Eyebrows Dipping and a hint of Oh God Wouldn't It All Get You Down Sometimes But Sure You Have To Soldier On Don't You?) Kenny: The Presidency. The highest office in the land. Today President Hillery was inaugurated for a second term at a rather splendid affair at Dublin Castle.