It has been confirmed that the counting of votes for the newly unified Tipperary County Council elections will be held for the first time in Thurles.
County election executives have decided to hold the count for the five electoral areas in the Presentation Convent, Cathedral Street, in Thurles. Previously the counting of votes in respect of both North Riding and South Riding Tipperary were held jointly in the towns of Nenagh and Clonmel respectively.
Ballot papers for the European elections will be checked and forwarded to the regional centre in Cork for inclusion in the Ireland South Constituency.
This venue is seen as ideal for purpose, since Thurles Town is situated centrally in this shortly to be amalgamated county authority area.
The tourism group Hidden Tipperary, under the Chairmanship of Mr Tom Noone, had recently highlighted the need for Thurles town to be viewed / identified, by both Local and National Government, as an existing central location, especially with regard to the availability of public services.
It is expected that up to 90 staff should be employed on the day to count the votes for this new 40 seat county authority, however it is expected that the ‘usual suspects’ will be rounded up to undertake this electoral task, namely retired Bank officials, Teachers, Gardaí, Civil Servants and their respective wives, latter also already in receipt of generous pensions from the Irish State.
However if you are currently unemployed, we suggest that you contact the Court Registrar, Nelson Street, Clonmel, Co Tipperary, Tel: 052-6129183, (Mr. Gerard Connolly Office Manager) and register yourself as being available to participate in this “Nice little earner.”
Note: At any possible future interview, be positive and point out that you are aware that our present Government is a “Caring Government” and devoted to “Taking care of the vulnerable and less well off in our society.”
Lament On The Absence Of The Thurles Clothesline.
The clothesline was a news forecast to the neighbours passing bye. There were no secrets you could keep when clothes hung out to dry.
It also was a friendly link for the neighbours always knew, if company had stopped on bye, to spend the night with you.
For then they’d see those “fancy sheets,” that towel upon the line; they’d see that “special table cloth,” with its elaborate design.
This line announced a baby’s birth from the folks who lived inside, as brand new infant clothes were hung, so carefully with pride.
The ages of their children too, could so readily be known, by watching how their sizes changed; you’d know how much they’d grown.
It also told when illness struck, as extra sheets were hung; your nightclothes and a bathrobe too, when irregularly were strung.
It also said, “On holidays now,” when lines swung limp and bare. It told, “We’re back,” when full lines sagged, with not an inch to spare.
New folks in town were scorned upon, if their wash was dull and grey; as neighbours carefully raised their brows, then turned their eyes away.
But clotheslines now are of the past, for dryers make work much less. Sure now what goes on inside a house, is anybody’s guess.
Ah sure I really miss that way of life; it was a friendly sign, when neighbours knew each other best, by what hung upon their line.
Shortly after the Ryanair flight had reached its correct cruising altitude, during yesterday’s extremely high winds, the Flight Captain’s voice came calmly over the plane’s intercom system.
Plane blown over by hurricane winds in Shannon yesterday
“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Welcome aboard Ryanair Flight 101, non-stop from Shannon to New York.
The weather ahead will be somewhat turbulent over the next hour or so, but very soon we can expect to encounter a smoother and more uneventful flight. So do sit back, relax, and………OH… MY GOD!”
A short silence followed as lives flashed in front of the eyes of all seated passengers.
Some moments later, the captain came back on the intercom system announcing; “Ladies and Gentlemen, I must sincerely apologise if I scared you in any way. While I was talking to you, due to the present turbulence being experienced, a flight attendant accidentally spilled burning hot coffee into my lap. You should see the front of my pants at this moment in time!”
From the back of the plane, one Thurles passenger yelled out, “For the luvva sweet Jaysus Sir …… you should see the back of mine.”
The old monk Friar Francis, as he was affectionately known in his Franciscan Priory in New York, was returning to Thurles, Tipperary, flying Ryanair to Shannon airport. Unable to obtain his preferred window seat due to his late booking, he found himself seated beside the isle, on one side and a very attractive but rather glum faced, young woman with whom he had not yet become acquainted, seated next to the window.
Friar Francis missed not having his normal window seat, but the unexpected and sudden death of his brother had provoked this hurried reason to return to his native Tipperary. Speed was of the essence, as his brother’s funeral Mass in Thurles Cathedral was being delayed, awaiting his arrival.
Friar Francis closed his tired eyes, welcoming the silence emanating from his female co-passenger. His thoughts drifted back to his early youth. He remembered the one and only chastisement he had ever received from his long dead mother. It was for telling lies and he could still almost feel the painful sting from that unexpected wet dishcloth, which had made contact with his right ear. His mother, as she tucked him into bed later that night, had explained that her sudden wet dishcloth assault was meant to act as a future painful reminder and a deterrent. “Lying is unacceptable,” she had explained, after all “What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive,” she had continued.
The subject of his then deceit had been formulated around some stolen apples removed from Mrs Ryan’s orchard next door, which he remembered were of the hard green cooker variety and uneatable anyway, but the good Friar had been careful to never lie in the true sense, after that fateful date.
As he explored this now long past memory, behind his closed eyelids, the Friar was aware of the Central Remedial Clinic’s (CRC) scandal back in Ireland, sure the world knew about it, but lies come under several category headings, there are fraudulent greedy lies like CRC, slanderous lies and there are even truthful lies, the latter to which in two hours time he would knowingly now become a participant.
About two hours into the journey his thoughts of those happier times, now gone forever, had continued to flow. He was remembering his last meeting with his now deceased brother, when suddenly his meanderings were interrupted by the here-to-fore silent attractive female, who now, out of the blue, turned to him and asked in a whisper; “Father, may I ask a very great personal favour?”
Somewhat amused by the young lady addressing him as ‘Father, Friar Francis smiled and then stated “Of course child. What may I do for you?” “Well, Father, I bought my mother a very expensive GHD hair straighteners, while shopping yesterday in New York. It’s for her 60th birthday next week actually.” she whispered.
“Really, that’s great,” said Friar Francis yawning. “Remember child; always be nice to your mother. We should never ignore our parents, time passes so quickly and then they are gone, nothing but guilty memories tend to exist.” he continued.
“Oh I do Father, I do, but this GHD is unopened, still in the original box and well-over my limits for imported goods and I’m afraid Father that Customs will confiscate it. Is there any way maybe you could carry it through customs for me?” enquired the young lady in pleading tones. “Sure you could hide it easily under your habit maybe?”
Friar Francis thought for a moment or two in silence. Could this package contain illegal drugs? Images of a trained drugs sniffer dog identifying him at the ‘Arrivals Gate,’ flashed upon his inward eye. Yet this young lady looked innocent enough and after all she had remembered her mother’s birthday. Hardly the kind of action one would expect from a girl operating as a professional ‘Drug Mule’ for some as yet unrecognised Columbian drugs cartel.
“I would love to help you child, but however I must warn you, if your gift is identified on my person, I will not lie to Customs Officers on your behalf, to save your skin.” replied the kindly old Monk. “There exists already, too much dishonesty abounding in this rotten world of ours.”
“Thanks Father, God bless you, sure with your honest face, no one will hardly question you,” replied the young lady, releasing a sigh of relief.
Taking the rectangular box slipped to him by his new acquaintance, from her hand luggage and checking that the Stewardess was otherwise occupied, Friar Francis now slid the article up the long sleeve of his habit and adjourned to the toilet, where he then placed it securely into the elastic band of his underpants, before returning to his seat.
When they both arrived at Customs in Shannon, the young lady agreed to let the priest go ahead of her. The beady eyed Customs Official halted the Friar and asked, “Sir, do you have anything to declare?”
“From the top of my head down to my waist I have nothing to declare.” smiled the Monk, looking somewhat deviously, yet directly into the eyes of the questioning Customs man.
Thinking this a rather strange answer, the vigilant now smiling Customs Official, tongue in cheek, asked the Monk, “And Sir do you have anything to declare from your waist down to the floor?”
“I do, I have a marvellous instrument designed to be used only on women, but which to date remains unused.” replied the grinning Friar.
Roaring with laughter and with a wave of his hand the Customs Official replied, “You are good, go ahead Sir, – Next customer please.”
The temperature here in Thurles last Friday morning rose higher than the over 40 degrees currently being experienced this week in Melbourne, Australia, following the RTE exposé on dog turds by Irish Columnist, Playwright and Scriptwriter, Fiona Looney and broadcast to the nation on RTE1.
Having removed her sun glasses on arrival, Fiona had quickly located these dog turds around Semple Stadium and same was the talk of every Supermarket, Pub and “High End, Bond Street” type shop in Thurles, the following Friday morning.
The Mayor of Thurles Michael Grogran, speaking on Radio Tipp FM on Friday, felt our Mid Tipp town had been unfairly portrayed in this RTE programme, “painting the town in a bad light,” thus damaging our non-existent tourism sector. But I suppose the nice part about living in a small town like Thurles is that when you yourself don’t know what you’re doing, someone else does.
We here on Thurles.Info had done our best, God knows. We wrote about this and other problems two years earlier in March 2011.
Is it any wonder therefore that, according to a recent audit, our Town Council discovered that 40% of eligible rate payers in Thurles are now refusing to pay their dues, and “back of the envelope” economist Sinn Fein Town Councillor David Doran (Not my words but stated in the Tipperary Star Newspaper by fellow councillor Michael Cleary, God forbid that I would use such language) is left wondering if there are any facilities available for those who cannot meet their payments.
Let’s see if our local Councillors actually changed anything in the past two years, to warrant such business behaviour, by looking at the 2011 video hereunder.
OK, no change there then, so what is the solution for the Thurles dog turd issue, (remembering of course we are not known as “Thurles Information,” by the way we comb our limited hair).
With only four meetings left before Minister Phil Hogan cuts off local Council salaries, mobile phones and top-up expenses, listen and learn from our European partners, latter who currently remain ruling our sovereign state.
Officials in Brunete, latter a town of similar size to Thurles, with 10,100 inhabitants on the outskirts of Madrid, came up with an idea for a social awareness campaign last year. They also were attempting to stamp out their dog excrement problem and came up with a novel ground breaking campaign. Town officials boxed up the offending faeces and sent them back to the pet owners’ homes. The amount of dog turds on their streets dropped considerably as a result.
In February 2013, Brunete Town Hall recruited 20 volunteers to patrol the streets in search of guilty dog owners. As soon as they spotted a turd that had not been correctly “pooper scooped”, these undercover volunteers /agents would then approach the owners and strike up a casual conversation with them. They would ask pet owners what was the dog’s name and pedigree. Through this casual conversation they found out the address of the pooch’s owner. These volunteers would then later pick up the turd, box it and deliver it to the pet owner along with an official fine and warning, while a cameraman filmed the whole embarrassing episode.
Brunete Town Hall now estimates the amount of dog-mess seen on the streets has dropped by 70%.
Anyway back to that eventful Friday morning; local council workers were dispatched at daybreak to clean up the offensive faeces, swarming over the entire area armed with their besoms (later brooms made from a bundle of birch twigs tied to a hazel wood pole ) together with shovels specially purchased for the occasion. Yes and a fine job of work they did, sure you could eat your dinner of the surface when they were finished.
This brings me back to the lovely ‘sun glassed’ Fiona Looney, who now may decide to run for Tipperary in the May Local and European elections. A deputation from Thurles is expected to travel shortly to the land of the “Floozy in the Jacuzzi,” the “Tart with the Cart,” the “Hags with the bags,” the “Dick with the stick” (James Joyce), the “Flue with the View” (Smithfield Village Chimney Stack lift), the “Stilleto by the Ghetto,” also known as the “Stiffy by the Liffey” (The Millennium Spire) or better known down our way here as the most littered city in Europe, according to Irish Business Against Litter (IBAL). This deputation now believes that anyone whose presence can command such instant action from our officialdom at Thurles Town Council, could take possibly two seats here in the Tipperary election.
Good God, I sincerely hope I haven’t “painted Dublin in a bad light,” thus damaging their tourism sector.
P.S. I know I am not Fiona Looney, but, weather permitting, could this same workforce be drafted in to do a quick sweep, from the entrance beside the bridge (Emmet Street) to the back of Tesco, where I counted a mere fourteen turds today, over a 25 yard stretch of footpath. Sure everyone knows where the Bridge Castle is and the back of Tesco can be easily identified by the fact that this Supermarket giant has failed to give its premises an outside coat of paint in over 20 years.