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Thurles Man Confesses To Inappropriate Behaviour

Himself a golfing enthusiast, Fr. Paddy Delaney was on duty hearing confessions in Thurles Cathedral, last week, when a tall, slim, middle aged man entered the confessional.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned”, began the individual seeking atonement.
“What is your sin, my son?”  the kindly priest enquires.
“Well,” the man begins, “First I used some unrepeatable language recently in front of  work colleagues, while out golfing at Thurles Golf Club. Prior to my inappropriate behaviour, I had hit an incredible drive that looked like it was going to travel over 250 yards, but, alas, it struck a power line that was crossing the fairway and rebounded, landing only about 100 yards away.”

“Is that when you swore?” asked an understanding Fr. Delaney.
“Not at all Father.” said the sinner, “After the ball came to a standstill, a dirty great grey squirrel ran down out of a nearby tree and grabbed my ball in his mouth, mistaking it for a nut, before beginning his run for cover.”

“Is that when you swore?” asked the kindly Fr. Delaney.
“Well, not as I recall.” said the man, “Because as the squirrel was fleeing the scene, a hawk dived down out of the sky and grabbed the grey squirrel in his talons, before beginning to fly away in the general direction of Littleton village!”

“Is that when you swore?” asked the golfers confessor.
“No, not yet”, the man replied. “Father, as the hawk carried the grey squirrel away in his claws, it flew up towards the green, and as it passed over a group of beech trees near that same green, the squirrel dropped my ball.”

“Did you swear then?” asked the Priest now getting somewhat impatient.
“No Father, because as the ball fell it struck a tree trunk, before bouncing through some undergrowth. It then bounced off a big rock, and rolled right through a sand trap onto the green and stopped within six inches of the hole.”

“You missed the fu**king putt, didn’t you?” said Fr. Delaney, shaking his head.

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Why I Hate Politicians

A study into homelessness, funded by the present minority, coalition, Irish government, has found that homeless people are more likely to believe in God, than non-homeless people, which a member of the Independent Alliance today claimed; “This beggars belief”.

The study also reveals for the first time that long periods spent living outdoors leads to better quality eyesight, which Ophtalmologists now believe is the reason why you never see homeless people queuing up to buy spectacles at Specsavers.

The study goes on to strongly recommend that homeless people, when given ‘change for a cuppa’ should apportion a percentage of this ‘granted loose coinage’  towards the cost of purchasing a kettle and teabags, as such a speculation could be beneficial to a longer term economical investment, in their futures.

With 81% of all accidents happening in the home, the report fully recognises that this is welcome news for all those, almost 9,000 persons, currently found to be in a homeless situation.

A new scheme for helping the homeless will be commenced by the Irish government starting on Monday night next.
Politicians and local councillors will be authorised to invite homeless people to take part in a simple quiz.  If they answer the single question correctly, they will be in with a chance of receiving one million pounds. According to the Irish Minister for Hardship and Homeless Persons an example of the type of questions to be asked are, “What is €2.50 + €2.50?”
If the homeless person answers €5.00, they will immediately be given a €5.00 note with which to buy a National Lottery Ticket. This scheme is now expected to be watched closely by other countries, also experiencing even greater homelessness on their streets.

Meanwhile, people with houses are being encouraged strongly to assist those less fortunate homeless people this Christmas, to find the nearest shelters. The study / report recommends that the unfortunate latter should be directed to follow the first bus that they observe driving past.

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Thurles Man Forced Out Of Marital Home

As far as I know, Mikey Ryan didn’t venture home to the wife as yet.

Oh, sorry you are probably not fully acquainted with reports of certain marital dissentions, which recently reared their ugly head, here in our rural, politically forgotten town.

To better explain; we were above in the Arch Bar in Liberty Square, Thurles last Monday, when a most dishevelled Mikey desended in, much later than usual.

To give him his due, Mikey, ordinarilywould be the sort of a guy to spruce himself up when heading out “on the tear”.  Mikey, for all the years I have known him, usually appears with his face as smooth as a baby’s bottom, togged out in a pinstriped suit, with a striped, blue tie, foiled by a rather crisp, white, starched shirt. Indeed, it’s as if all of his clobber had been plucked straight out from the front window of Stakelum’s Menswear in Friar Street.  Now add to this ensemble; that splash of Old Spice; top it off with a Sunday best, white, Panama hat and add a pair of highly polished brown shoes and you can see at a glance, even if only in your mind’s eye, the type of person that is our Mikey.

But last Monday night it was a different kettle of fish; he turned up in a truly scruffy state. To describe him as displaying a rather “slept in look” could be more rightly seen as being a sort of exaggerated benevolence, to say the very least.  Pat, the Arch Bar proprietor, wasn’t even sure that he was worthy of admission. Indeed, were it not for the fact that he was a regular, it would have been a “No way Jose” scenario regarding admission rights, as Pat warned me quietly afterwards.

Mikey arrived through the bar portals like a man who had been found absent when his house was searched by the Criminal Assets Bureau or a relative of the Hutch-Kinahan criminal gang.
“Was she in tonight,” Mikey queried hurriedly, glancing continuously over his shoulder.
“Who are we talking about”, says I.
“That sadistic bitch of a wife of mine”, retorted Mikey.

It was only then through my persistent questioning that I learned that Mikey, following advice, had not dared to venture home in the last few days, choosing instead to sleep (if that is possible) on a two-seater sofa in the front room of his sister Bridie’s house.

From what I can gather it all began in the latter half of the previous week. According to Mikey, his wife had come home from a doctor’s appointment she had been granted, regarding worrying chest pain, and was now grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s making you so happy”, Mikey asks, “Why the ‘pleased as punch look’ on you”.
His wife smiled again, “The doctor told me that for a forty-five-year-old woman, that I have the breasts of a eighteen year old virgin.”
“Oh yeah?” quipped Mikey, “What did he say about your forty-five-year-old fat arsehole?” to which she is supposed to have replied, “Trust me your name wasn’t even mentioned in our conversation.”

But it wasn’t until Saturday that the real difficulties came to the fore, Mikey forgot their wedding anniversary. His wife was furious, informing him in no uncertain terms that, quote, “Tomorrow morning, I expect to find a gift in the driveway that goes from 0 to 200 in 6 seconds and it had better materialise”

Living in fear and dread all night, Mikey arose early next morning and left in his van for work, having placed a gift as directed. When his wife woke up, she looked out the window and sure enough there it was, a box beautifully gift-wrapped sitting, as requested, in the middle of their driveway.

Confused, the wife put on her dressing gown and rushed out unto the driveway, narrowly missing a somewhat now startled postman. Bringing the box back into the house she opened it to find that the contents contained a brand-new, state of the art Weight Watchers, Designer, Precision, Electronic, Bathroom Scales.

Don’t ask me how I know, but personally my feeling is that Mikey may end up sojourning on the sofa in Bridie’s house for just a day or two longer.

Women; sure I could never understand them either.

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TD Runs Up Drink Tab For €1,200 In Dáil Bar

Inside the Dáil Bar

According to last weekend’s Sunday Times, in the Dáil bar, one TD has run up a bill of €1,200 over the summer, despite the Dáil only sitting for just eight days. The Dáil’s Bar tab, in total, reached over €31,000 up to the end of last August.

We can now confirm we saw yesterday, one Irish Cabinet Minister quickly attempting to exit through the side gates of Dáil Éireann, being chased by a man waving a drinks bill, before being accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless person, who asked him for a “couple of Euro to get food”.

Dodging out of site, behind the front entrance security building, the Minister routed in his trousers pocket, before extracting a two Euro coin. Holding it up between finger and thumb he asked, “If I gave you this money, will you take it and buy whisky?”
“No, sure I stopped drinking years ago, Sir,” said the unfortunate dishevelled individual.

“Will you use it to gamble?” asked the Minister.
“I don’t gamble. I need everything I can get just to keep body and soul together, Sir”, said the starving man.

“Will you spend the money on greens fees at a golf course?” questioned the Cabinet Minister.
“Are you totally mad, Sir?  I haven’t played golf in 20 years“, said the now confused man, wishing he had never asked for help in the first place.

“Come quickly” said the Cabinet Minister,  “I’m not going to give you two Euro. Instead, I’m going to take you to my Dublin residence for a terrific dinner, cooked by my adoring wife’s fair hands.”
The starving, homeless man was astounded. “Sir won’t your wife be furious with you for doing that?  Sure I’m dirty, and I probably smell like shit.”
“Hey, not to worry”, said the Minister, “I want my wife to see what a man looks like who, in just a couple of short years, has given up drinking, gambling, and golf”

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O, To Have A Little House Mr Varadkar

Old Woman Of The Roads
by Padraic Colum.

O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped up sods against the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall!
To have a clock with weights and chains
And pendulum swinging up and down!
A dresser filled with shining delph,
Speckled and white and blue and brown!
I could be busy all the day
Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,
And fixing on their shelf again
My white and blue and speckled store!
I could be quiet there at night
Beside the fire and by myself,
Sure of a bed and loth to leave
The ticking clock and the shining delph!
Och! but I’m weary of mist and dark,
And roads where there’s never a house nor bush,
And tired I am of bog and road,
And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!
And I am praying to God on high,
And I am praying Him night and day,
For a little house – a house of my own
Out of the wind’s and the rain’s way.

One wonders if the Co. Longford poet Padraic Colum (1881 – 1972) were penning his poem “Old Woman Of The Roads” in today’s Ireland, what would be the title? “The Lament Of A Homeless Person Neglected by Government” perhaps.

“Ireland has one of the lowest levels of homelessness,” stated Mr Leo Eric Varadkar yesterday which perhaps suggests that the problem is being ignored.

You will of course remember Mr Varadkar, the Irish Fine Gael politician and now the leader of a minority coalition government since June of this year; same government which includes quite a number of Fine Gael members. Representing the Dublin West constituency and ‘people who get up early in the morning’, since 2007, Mr Varadkar has previously served as a Minister for Transport, Tourism and Sport (2011 to 2014, the period that himself and Mr Alan Kelly increased train fares from Thurles to Dublin by 100%); a Minister for Health (2014 to 2016), and yes, actually the Minister for Social Protection from 2016 to 2017.

The Cabinet, which Mr Varadkar presides over, of course contain numerous individuals who, like himself occasionally demonstrate ‘Learner Driver Syndrome’, in their cases continuously failing to ‘engage brain, before operating mouth’.

Take a look at just one other example; TD Mr John Halligan, the Irish Independent politician who has served as Minister of State for Training and Skills since May 2016 and who is surprisingly an elected TD for the Waterford constituency. This same week Mr Halligan; (anxious to grab a “see me appearing to do important work” headline with the national press), threatened to visit North Korea on a diplomatic mission to halt a nuclear Armageddon.

An impressed Chairman of the Workers’ Party and the supreme leader of North Korea, Mr Kim Jong-un, (as one does in every good home these days), got his wife Mrs Ri Sol-ju to polished the silver and run their china under the tap, before laying it out in the parlour. He himself nipped out to clip the hedges and mow the lawn at the front. Now after all that effort, what happens?  Mr Halligan decides (following a rumoured kicking from civil servants at the Dept. of Foreign Affairs), not to travel. Now between you and me and without in anyway trying to cause panic; Waterford people should be keeping one eye gazing skyward, as I can confirm from first hand sources that Mr Kim Jong-un and the wife are feeling rather ‘pissed off ‘ over the whole damned affair.

I mean Mr Halligan, having failed to acquire a permanent second Catheterisation laboratory down in Waterford, actually instead nipped out to meet with the Palestinian authorities on the West Bank, not to mention the Israeli authorities on the opposite bank, just a few months previously, and you can visibly see today the almighty changes immediately brought about by his diplomacy, which focused the world on his true political ability as a possible leader in Europe.

Anyway, enough on Mr Halligan, sorry, we were chatting about Mr Varadkar and his excuse yesterday for allowing 8,374 Irish people remain homeless during the week of September 18th to the 24th, 2017, across Ireland.

Homelessness, as everyone knows, has had its roots well-watered by past and present Governments failing to legislate. Their failures to correct a broken housing system; low Rent Supplement Payments; low Incomes; forced Social Welfare reductions; Landlords selling; Bank repossessions; Shortages of property stock; Properties refusing to accept Rent Supplement in an effort to avoid Income Tax; High Rents charged by Irish Get-Rich-Quick Landlords, acting out similar sagas as that which existed when we were being exploited by England Landlords; Vulture Funds, and finally a Governments decision to cut spending on social housing by a colossal 72%, between 2008 and 2012, and which now talks about reducing taxes, while they themselves have granted themselves massive salary increases.

Surely it’s time to change our system of elections.

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