Thurles Information » Humour

Irish TV Advertising

George — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 22:00:38 +0000

Watching television commercials recently (I lead a sad life) I realise that even the quality of Irish made advertising has gone to the dogs.

Take the case of one of our Irish Telephone Companies, which tells us that over 60,000 customers have come back to them over the past year. Why did they leave in the first place, I ask, was their service over priced and offering very poor customer service I wonder?

Then there is the Public Health Information Advert which invites us all to dial 999 if we are suffering from a heart attack. I would have assumed that this kind of information was already common knowledge, however this TV advert now begs the question, were people phoning their local undertaker, in an effort to cut out the middle man. Perhaps it is aimed at Thurles residents, who because of the long distance over potholed surfaces, are now deciding their journey to Limerick hospital would be a waste of time.

Another advert selling a brand of liquid Disinfectant Hand Wash, which claims to kill 99% of all known germs, has introduced a new automatic liquid disperser. It’s to stop you from picking up germs from handling the outer surface of their container. Hello! does the liquid we access within, not claim to kill 99% of germs or are they suggesting that their product is not possibly as deadly to nasty bacteria, as previously believed?

Well, let’s face it, commercial advertising has got to really catch the eye of the consumer. So my friend Michael and myself have come up with a possible scenario, that we believe might offer help to Greengrocers, who feel the need to promote their dwindling sales of garden fresh vegetables. Our Advert would run something like this, so bear with us as we extol our “Story Board,” for the benefit of any viewing, interested marketing executives.

Imagine the following scenario, in your mind’s eye, flashing on your TV screens.

“Tired of constantly being lectured over his womanising, his drinking and being faced with an unhappy relationship, husband Tom decides to solve, once and for all , his marital problems. He first takes out a large insurance policy, €500,000 to be exact, on his wife, naming himself as the sole beneficiary. Then having made discreet enquiries, Tom, courtesy of a very loyal friend, gets the name of a professional experienced “Hit Man.”

Tom arranges a meeting with this underworld figure, named “Artie,” and explains he wants his wife ‘snuffed.’ Artie quietly explains to Tom that the going price for a hit on a spouse on today’s market is €5,000.

Tom agreed to the prices and even adds a bonus, but explains that he wouldn’t have any cash on hand until he could collect on his wife’s insurance money. Artie insists on being paid at least something up front, so Tom opens his wallet, displaying only one single €1.00 coin. As you can imagine Artie is not too happy, but with unemployment in this country as it stands and no other job on that weekend, he reluctantly agrees to accept the €1.00 as a down payment.

A few days later, Artie begins following Tom’s wife, learning her everyday habits. He discovers that everyday, without fail, she goes browsing for vegetables to a local greengrocers. Artie decides this is the best place to strike, as the shelving used offers good cover from the rest of the shop. The following day he is waiting and surprises her as she tests the firmness of bright red tomatoes on offer. Using gloved hands, Archie proceeds to strangle her and as the poor unsuspecting wife draws her last breath, the manager of the store stumbles unexpectedly on his murder scene.

Artie is leaving no living witnesses behind. He has no choice but to strangle the fresh produce Manager. Unknown to Artie, the entire proceedings are being captured by a hidden security camera and are also being observed by the store’s security guard, who immediately calls the police. Artie is arrested as he attempts to exit the Greengrocers. Now under intense questioning in the police station, he reveals the full details of the whole sordid plan, including his unusual financial arrangements with Tom.

Now comes our sales pitch; The following day a man is observed reading the bold headlines of a newspaper:- ARTIE CHOKES TWO FOR JUST €1.00 AT LOCAL GREENGROCERS.”

Now if that wouldn’t boost the sales of fresh Thurles Artichokes, kindly tell me what would?

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Two Burst Bubbles

George — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 21:38:27 +0000

The old terraced house, situated at Number 1922, Liberty Square, Thurles, had been up for sale for years. The delay in its sale attributed to the lull brought about by the bursting of the Irish housing bubble. This latter caused by greedy people, urged on by greedy bankers, builders and politicians who spent far too much time at the Galway races. This has since been confirmed to me on the phone just last night by my friend Enda, currently holidaying in Davos.

To be honest, the original valuation of €2.5 million placed on the property, had been suggested by the auctioneer and not the vendor. The auctioneer had this gut feeling that one of our now rarely seen elected representatives might know someone who would view this property as a suitable site for a waste recycling centre or even a Casino. After all it stood in a fine central residential location, with easy access to supermarkets, chip shops and betting offices.

However, regrettably for all concerned, genuine interest was slow to materialise and the vendors eventually let the property go on the market for its true but disappointingly low value of €90,000. But then as my friend Wayne knowingly said to me later, “Sure you couldn’t bury the wife at night in the back garden of that property, without half the town gawking at you.”

The first inkling that the property was sold actually came via Wayne’s wife, Imelda May, latter who suffers from a slight speech impediment, easily recognised by the fact that every now and then she stops talking long enough to catch her breath. Imelda, I should add, never misses a trick, squinting as she does, from behind that off-white net curtain, covering her front window. It was she who first spotted the large removal van parked outside, with men busy carrying inwards, the usual ordinary everyday household goods required to set up a loving, caring, close knit family unit, in a modern Irish State like ours. You know the things I mean; Versailles Silver Side Cabinets, Corona Computer Desk, Nevada Pine Bedroom Furniture, St Austell chairs, a Lille Oak table, and enough hydroponic equipment to grow your own personal supply of marijuana.

Wishing to know more about her new neighbours, Imelda suggested to Wayne, that perhaps it would be seen as a neighbourly gesture, for them to introduce themselves and welcome the new residents. This suggestion was repeated by her for several days, until Wayne, now resigned to the fact that if his marriage was made in heaven, then it was quite obvious that someone up there didn’t like him, agreed. So true to form our Imelda, followed reluctantly by Wayne, marched across the road a few days later, rapping loudly on a paint cracked front door. Eventually the door opened slightly, offering a limited close-up view of the new residents.

New residents, Randall and Britney, seemed pleasant enough and while Wayne and Imelda were not actually invited inside, an invitation was extended for the following night to call over and partake in, a new craze which has just hit Thurles, the drinking of iced tea.

Well as Wayne remarked to me later; “What with the ever increasing price of milk, electricity, the influx of foreign job seekers, household and septic tank charges not to mention a massive hike in the price of watered down supermarket larger, the drinking of iced tea in the month of January, was eventually bound to catch on over here.”

Before Wayne could get a word in edge-ways, Imelda had enthusiastically accepted their invitation, and the visitors now took their leave. The following evening Wayne and Imelda, latter sporting a new frock, followed up on their invitation and to cut a long story short, having drunk several glasses of iced tea, Wayne asked Britney if he could be directed to their host’s bathroom. Having followed the directions given, (straight in front, at the top of the stairs) Wayne, on entering, was astonished to see that the bathroom fixtures included a solid gold urinal.

Later on, while their host and hostess were busy in the kitchen preparing another jug of iced tea, Wayne whispered to wife Imelda that he had just relieved himself, for the very first time, in a gold urinal. Imelda was impressed and later, when Wayne and Randall had retired to the library, for a smoke and discussion on burning the bond holders, Imelda, anxious to make friends, told Britney how impressed her Wayne had been, at his discovery of their unusual bathroom fixture. Britney seemed confused but decided in the interest of future friendship, not to follow up on this remark.

Later that evening, when Wayne and Imelda had left for home, having extended their invitation for a return visit, Britney, now getting ready for bed, began to think more deeply about Imelda’s bathroom remark. Then it hit her, like those sharp pricks that bursts our housing bubble.

Britney smiled and called out to Randall ; “While you are in the bathroom dear, do check, I think you may find that someone has urinated in that damned saxophone of yours.”

Ah sure nothing is as it seems here in this country anymore.

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Tipperary Criminals Called To The Bar

George — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:21:55 +0000

The Irish Courts Service have brokered a deal with local Ballina, Co Tipperary publican, Mr Michael O’Donovan, to use his licenced hostelry as a Courthouse, with Judge Aeneas McCarthy presiding, looking down upon gardaí, solicitors, court users and criminals from his raised platform stage, normally the preserve of performers John Spillane, Mary Coughlan etc and the other bands who regularly perform at O’Donovans Bar.

Beneath disco lights, (switched off I hasten to add when the court is in session) in full view of favoured tipple labels Heineken, Guinness and Carlsberg, not to mention bottles of gin, vodka etc, now dispensers of this country’s justice sit in true American Wild West historical Saloon fashion, and will continue to do so for a trial period over the next three months. I should point out that the bar is not open during these court sessions.

This new venue brings an ends to the 64 mile round trip to Ennis, that court officials and criminals have been forced to take since September, when court sittings were suspended with the Kincora Hotel going into receivership.

Main reasons given for choosing this new venue was the difficulty experienced by criminals not being able to get to Ennis Court because of a lack of direct public transport. No doubt the Health Service Executive will now be organising a similar setup for Diabetes sufferers and those who need weekly Kidney Dialysis in Limerick hospital and who must drive a 96 mile round trip just to stay alive.

Alan Shatter TD, Minister for Justice, Equality and Defence, was not on hand to officially open this new venue.

Me, well I blame this rather unusual court setting now forced on us here in Tipperary, on Angela Dorothea Merkel, Chancellor of Germany and the current state of the Euro.

In fact a middle aged male German tourist recently, on his first visit here to Tipperary, recently confided in me, the following story.

According to him he had visited one of our houses of “ill repute.” (No, before you ask, I didn’t get an address or a mobile telephone number.) The lady in charge asked him to be seated and sends over a young lady to entertain him. They sat and talked, frolicked a little and drunk a bit. He whispered a request in her ear and she gasped and runs away, screaming “No I will not.”

Seeing this, the lady in charge quickly sent over a more experienced lady to further entertain the gentleman. They also again sat together and talked, frolicked a little, laughed a lot, drunk a bit. He again whispered into her ear, and she also screamed, “No never in a month of Sundays.” and quickly left the scene.

The madam naturally was very surprised that this ordinary, good looking man was asking for something so outrageous, that her two most experienced girls refused to have anything to do with him. So, intrigued, having never seen anything like this in all her years of operating her business, she decided to find out what this man wanted that had made her girls so angry and uncooperative.

She approaches her unsatisfied tourist customer, sits and talks with him. They frolic, they giggle, they drink and then she sits on his lap. My tourist friend leans forwards and whispers in her ear, “Can I pay you in Euro?”

Still, in the words of Eamon de Valera: “When we have done our best, we can, as a united people, take whatever may befall, with calm courage and confidence that this old nation will survive and if death should come to many of us, death is not the end.”

Yea, listen I will leave the above text to each of you, our discerning readers, to decide which is the biggest joke.

Tipperary Courts Cancelled Due To Judge Shortage

A Christmas Tradition From Thurles

George — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 01:54:07 +0000

Not a lot of children know this and now with all these increased class sizes in our schools, even less will be aware, but trust me when I tell you that a custom now carried on in almost every country in the world, each and every Christmas for generations, actually began here in Thurles.

As you are all aware and for reasons we will discuss very soon, Thurles, as a town, has never been able to attract any great industry in the past, despite our very high unemployment.

You will all remember the recent closing of our Sugar Factory and Erin Foods etc, etc, etc. However, what most of you forget is that Santa Claus, once upon a time, ran a very successful Toy Manufacturing plant here, up until about 1846, employing mainly local Elves.

Due to the loss of the potato crop during the Great Famine period 1846- 1849, Santa decided, like Dell & Talk Talk, to close up shop and moved his large operation, to where he could get other stupid unemployed elves to work for little or half nothing. The local unemployed elves, I understand, were later given employment in local government posts. Santa’s sudden departure, of course, was then further encouraged by huge grant aiding, not to mention low Corporate Taxes, then available at the North Pole. Still enough about that nonsense.

The story goes that one day, while still operating his Toy Factory situated here in the Cabragh Industrial Estate, four of Santa’s local elves got sick. The trainee elves, who had been employed through JobBridge, the then National Internship Scheme, did not produce toys nearly as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel, as one would, real pre – Christmas pressure.

To add insult to injury, that same week Santa’s wife, Mrs Claus, told Santa that she had invited her mother to stay for Christmas, and as Santa said at the time, it wasn’t that she was ugly, but he did see her use her bottom lip once or twice as a shower cap.

Anyway, if this news wasn’t bad enough, when he went to harness up the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others, including Rudolph, had jumped the perimeter fence and were out carousing on the Wetlands and only God knew where. (Well, lets call a spade a spade, he didn’t get that red nose in a fist fight, if you take my meaning.)

Then when Santa began to load his sleigh, several of the floorboards cracked, the toy bags fell to the ground and all the contents became scattered, with some even broken.

Totally frustrated, Santa went in the house in search of a large Guinness and a shot of Poitin, or was it the other way around. For our non Irish readers, Poitin is a beverage traditionally distilled from malted barley grain or potatoes, and is one of the strongest alcoholic beverages in the world. For centuries it has been illegally distilled here in Thurles, hence no tax on alcohol in our recent budget. (Our Irish Department of Finance are no ordinary idiots. Drink is one thing but the illegal importation of fags is another story altogether, hence the .25 cents.)

When he got to the cupboard, Santa discovered the elves had drunk all the Guinness and hidden the Poitin. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped his favourite drinking jug, breaking it into a thousand pieces all over his new flat pack kitchen floor.

Intent on cleaning up before the mother-in-law arrived he headed for the broom closet, to discover that a plague of mice had eaten all the straw off the end of his broom, which he had only purchased in Roache’s shop, Liberty Square the previous week.

Just then the doorbell rang, and an very annoyed and irritated Santa marched out to answer the door bell. Yanking it open, he found, stood there, a beautiful little winged angel, dressed in white, with a great big magnificently decorated Christmas tree.

The angel smiled sweetly (as angels do you understand) at our Santa Claus and with a cheerful voice said, “Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn’t this a lovely day? I have a beautiful Christmas tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?”

And so began the age old tradition of a little white angel sitting on top of our Christmas trees, and it all began here in Thurles, Co Tipperary, Ireland.

By the way kids, we in Thurles are still patiently waiting for IDA Ireland to give us that replacement factory, promised in the elections of 1847.

Thurles Late Night Lecture Series

George — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 23:51:14 +0000

Michael Ryan’s battered old car was stopped by the Gardaí, just outside of Thurles town, around 3.00 a.m. last Saturday, after he had left a local poker game.

Michael slowly rolled down the car window. “Good night to you sir,” said the police officer, “And would you mind telling me your intended destination, at this time of the night.”

“Sure I don’t mind at all, officer,” said Michael politely, “Believe it or believe it not, I’m on my way into Thurles to attend a series of lectures on the abuse of alcohol and the long term dangerous effects it has on the human body. The lecture will also include the latest scientific findings on the over use of tobacco, not to mention the erosion and eventual breakup of the family unit, brought about by parents who continually stays out late every single night of the week.”

“Really,” said the police officer surveying Michael suspiciously, “and tell me this now sir, who would be holding lectures at this time of the night, might I ask?”

“Me current Missus, officer,” replied Michael.

New Integrated Transport System On Barry’s Bridge

George — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 16:42:10 +0000

A new integrated transport ticketing system called the Leap Card, has been announced today for, yes you guessed it, the Greater Dublin area. As many as 40,000 holders of smart cards on Iarnrod Eireann (30,000) and Luas (10,000), will immediately have their cards replaced with these Leap cards.

North Tipperary’s TD Alan Kelly was on hand, as usual, for photographs and a wee opportunity for a TV spot. (Matthew 18:20 springs to mind “For where two or three gather together as my followers, I am there among them.“)

The new Leap Card is expected to be available to all commuters by the end of this year. €48m has been spent on the system to date over the last eight years and €55m will have been spent by the time the system is ready to roll.

So now you know why Thurles has no funding for it’s proposed and identified €48m, 8-kilometre, 100 metre wide corridored by-pass. The estimated €48M was spent on an integrated transport ticketing system for Dublin.

The new Thurles integrated transport system

Some good news however for Thurles. We may not have to leap over the shallow end of the river Suir to go shopping this Christmas.

Traffic was at a standstill for 2.5 hours today as workers dropped cement bollards and sand bags into the river to protect the only vehicle crossing into our town. Note, I can not confirm that this means that badly needed repairs to the decaying Barry’s Bridge connecting Thurles to the rest of the world is now imminent. It might have been undertaken because of a severe weather and flood warnings from our good friends in Met Éireann.

Like the new Dublin integrated transport Leap card, one of our resident frogs also came out for a look, but he was to be dissappointed, there was no sign of Alan Kelly, RTE or any other of our North Tipperary politicians in attendance.

Still, all is not lost, Thurles Co-Op are offering a great deal in wellingtons and waterproof waders at present.

The Social Welfare Investigation

George — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 23:55:43 +0000

Department of Social Protection

I suppose it was the day every employer fears, the unexpected arrival mid month, of the officious brown envelope, bearing the insignia of a black harp.

Patrick Ryan, an elderly Tipperary farmer, received such a letter from the Department of Social Protection recently. The letter stated that they suspected he was not paying his employees the Statutory Minimum Wage. The letter further stated that they, the Department, now felt it necessary to send an Inspector to audit Paddy’s affairs and to interview him, personally.

Sure enough, on the appointed day and true to the Department’s promise, a rather stern looking Inspector, complete with heavy black rimmed glasses and matching black leather briefcase, turned up to Paddy’s farm house door, apparently oblivious of “Shep,” Paddy’s rather cross and aging sheepdog.

Parking himself on a chair at the kitchen table, he began to interview Paddy. “Tell me Mr Ryan about your present employees, how many staff do have working here on your farm at present? ” he began.

“Well now let me think,” said Paddy, “First I suppose there’s the farm hand, I pays him about €240 a week, and he has the free use of a cottage, its the gate lodge near the entrance, as you drove in.”

“Then of course there’s the housekeeper,” said Paddy, obviously thinking carefully. “Now I believe she gets €190 a week, along with free board and lodgings, here in the main house.”

“Then of course we mustn’t forget the village idiot, he is a bit of a half-wit. He works about 16 hours a day, seven days a week, and does 90% of the manual labour. He earns around €25 a week, or whatever is spare at the time, along with the occasional bottle of whisky thrown in. Oh, and as a special treat, occasionally he is allowed to sleep with my wife.”

“That’s really disgraceful,” said the Inspector, “I would like to interview this half-wit immediately.”

“No problem,” replied Paddy “Sure it will be me you need to talk to then.“

African Scammers Target Thurles

brianc — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 13:42:56 +0000

There has been another spate of PC scammers trying to scam Thurles people out off their money this last couple of weeks. Just yesterday I received a call from an African sounding man who claimed he was from ‘Microsoft Support’ and that something is wrong with my computer.

If you receive one of these calls Hang Up Immediately!

What they are actually trying to do is trick you into giving them access to your computer to plant malicious software or worse. Once your computer is infected they can use it to send spam from your email account or monitor keystrokes on your keyboard so that they can get access to your bank account!

Scammer Gets Annoyed

Anyway, this being about the 4th time getting a call from these scammers in the last few weeks I decided to try and track down where these scammers are calling from. So this time I immediately wrote down the phone number. The number began with ’0025′ which after a quick Google search came up with the area code for Africa. The 5th digit was ’1′ so that meant he was calling from ‘Ethiopia’. Meanwhile, I’m still on the phone to this man, deliberately wasting his time. After a few minutes I confronted him with this info, I told him what I thought of him and that I was contacting the Police…well, the scammer was not impressed, and started screaming expletives at me while I was laughing at him on the other end of the phone! I wouldn’t recommend anyone to engage with these scammers at all, but he certainly gave me a good laugh that day!

Once again, we would like to warn people to be vigilant. Remember, if you get one of these calls, Just Hang Up!

The Body Politic & Presidential Election

George — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 15:52:42 +0000

Ireland

Basically I am seriously fed up today here in Thurles. People keep asking me why I didn’t decide to throw my hat into the ring, with a chance to win the first prize of almost €250.000 plus €317, 434 annual expenses. First I thought they were referring to a possible share in the National Lottery, but no, I found out later they were referring to the “Race to the Áras” more often referred to as “The Irish Presidential Election,” due to be held on Thursday, 27th October 2011.

Now please don’t spread this around locally, but truth is, despite the poor pay and overall lousy working conditions, I did seriously considered applying for the post. However having weighed all the pros and cons, (Particularly the cons.) I decided I didn’t stand a chance of winning with this €400,000 a ticket lottery, of which 50% is being paid by less than intelligent taxpayers.

Well you are all not totally stupid, look at my opposition for God’s sake. I have never killed innocent women and children as a member of an illegal organisation, unlike Martin McGuinness’s IRA, so no Sinn Fein votes for me. Fianna Fáil had already put in place their “Secret 007 Undercover Agent,” Séan Gallagher, so no votes from there either. Unlike Dana, my brief singing career begun in the late 60′s, brought my small audiences literally to tears, (in the true sense I mean). My inability to write, mainly due to free education, let alone write letters seeking clemency on behalf of a man charged with the statutory rape of a 15-year-old Palestinian boy, meant that David Norris would wipe the floor with me. I had no worries at all about Mickey Higgins and Gabriel Mitchell, as I reckoned they would be a pushover. Now while I specialise in social entrepreneurship and am a strong unpaid disability rights campaigner on a regular basis, for some strange and unknown reason I have never been co-opted to any State Boards as yet, unlike Molly Davis.

Having thought it all over then very carefully, I decided to discuss the matter with my director of elections for many years, Michael. Michael a regular commenter on Thurles.Info, as usual put me to thinking straight immediately. “I am going to extol to you the parable of the body politic” said he with his usual knowing nod.

“Think of it like this,” said he, slowly and knowingly sucking on his pipe, “all the organs of the body are having a meeting, trying to decide who is the one to be in charge.”
“I should be in charge,” said the Brain, “because I administer all the body’s systems, so without me nothing could happen.”
“No I should be in charge,” said the Blood, “because I circulate oxygen all over, so without me you’d all waste away.”
“No I should be in charge,” said the Stomach, “because I process the food that gives all of you lots of necessary energy.”
“You lot are joking, I should be in charge,” said the Legs, “don’t I carry the whole body everyday, wherever it needs to go.”
“I should be in charge,” said the Eyes, “because I allow the body to see where it goes.”
“I should be in charge,” said the Rectum, “because I’m responsible for all recycling and waste removal.”

All the other body parts laughed at the Rectum and insulted him, so taking the attitude of over worked nurses recently in Limerick Regional Hospital, he shut down part of his daily duties for a couple of afternoons.
Within minutes, the Brain began to suffer from terrible headaches, the Stomach became bloated, the Legs got weak and wobbly, the Eyes became blurred and watery, and the Blood became toxic.
Following a series of Body Social Partnership meetings to discuss the current situation, the assembled group, led by their union representatives, all decided that the Rectum should be elected as the boss.

“What is the moral of this story you might ask? ” said Michael. ”Its very simple, here in Ireland an Anus or Rectum usually wins any positions of power.”

Dear God, what would I ever do without you Michael, sure you speak the tongue of the common man.

Pubic Meeting Required With North Tipp Politicians

George — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 22:42:04 +0000

If you are rushing from Thurles to the Regional Hospital in Limerick with a seriously sick aged parent or an infant, do not use route R503.

Trust me when I say that spending a couple of nights freezing on a trolley in this hospital’s corridors, waiting for a bed, is the least of your worries, such is the dire state of this road’s surface.

Even senior engineer Mr Michael F. Hayes agrees that a lot of this roadway needs realignment and confesses that it is bad in places. Approximately €300,000 has been spent on this road so far this year, filling the potholes. By Christmas parts of this road surface should be almost impassible.

Tourists encouraged to visit the lovely Clare Glens, the solitude of Kilcommon Prayer Garden and the picturesque Walking trails of Upperchurch, will surely have a talking point when they return home.

Of course our North Tipperary political representatives are presently too busy to notice these required road repairs.
Mr Michael Lowry is busy, pencil in hand, downsizing Quirky’s Casino blue prints and anyway there are no wealthy business men residing in that area, who could create 2000 jobs, so chances are he does not travel route R503. To be fair, should he need a hospital, (God forbid,) he would be air lifted to the Blackrock Clinic, no trolley’s there I understand.

Mr Allen Kelly, who according to his website is Minister For Public Transport and Commuter Affairs is possibly trying to pen together further self glorifying text for his website, which has not been updated since 11th March last, his first day in the Dail. Click here to see me “Sitting at my Desk in Department.” Still I suppose it is an improvement on his famous compromised Twitter. I wonder if he is worth approaching (cap in hand mind you, show a little respect for office) what with his power, maybe he could transfer the near €1 million allocated for the unnecessary old R445 cycle track, purely in the interest of creating jobs you understand.

Mr Noel Coonan, and I could be wrong, but I suspect he is behind this new strategy of holding a Pubic Meeting which was recently announced by the Tipperary Star Newspaper. This new type of meeting strategy is expected to overturn the proposed closure of 22 beds at the Thurles Community Hospital of the Assumption by Health Minister James Reilly. The first of these naked meetings will be held on Monday evening next in the Tipperary Institute, at 7.00pm and a massive crowd is expected to turn up, just for a look you understand.

On the other hand, as my granny used to say, “When God closes one door, He opens a window.” Since it will soon be almost impossible to reach Limerick Regional Hospital by road, won’t it take the pressure of all those underpaid and overworked Consultants, Doctors and Nurses.

Maybe a pubic meeting with our politicians is now overdue and could avoid the embarrassment of people stopping payment on their vehicle road tax.

Are roads covered under the Irish Consumer Rights Act does anyone know?