Humour « Thurles Information

Where There’s A Will There’s A Way

Hello you animal lovers out there. Meet ‘Missy‘ the tiny eight week old pup from Thurles, who thinks she is a cat.

The Great Escape (One Dog’s Interpretation) from G Butler on Vimeo.

Highly intelligent ‘Missy’ is the only daughter of a female Cocker Spanial called ‘Sandy’ and was conceived following a one night unscheduled liaison with an unidentified black Labrador Retriever.

Abandoned by her mother, at just four weeks, for continuously acting the pup, Missy was hand reared by her owner and now prefers the human touch to those of the canine variety.

Just like most women, Missy has a mind of her own and as you saw from this video clip, is very head strong when it comes to being caged, in her four foot high wired dog compound.

I wonder if we had a word with her could she help us find a solution to our present economic problems.

Dublin – A Plague On Your City Says Rural Ireland

Dublin! Dublin! Dublin! everything appears these days to be centred in and around Dublin. A plague on our Capital city say the dwellers from “Beyond the Pale.”

It now appears that this city formally known as “The Pale” is being promoted as a place for “Fun and Craic” in a new solo run using €1 million of our Tourism campaign funding.

"The Pale"

The word “pale ” (An Pháil) derives ultimately from the Latin word palus, meaning a stake, used to support a fence and from this came the figurative meaning of boundary and eventually the phrase “beyond the pale” as something outside the boundary of an area from Dundalk to Carrickmines Castle, Dublin known today as gullible “Rural Ireland.”

Minister for Tourism Mary Hanafin TD said that this new radio and online campaign by Tourism Ireland would be seen by an audience of over 12 million, British tourists. She correctly states that Britain is the largest single source market for visitors to the island of Ireland and provides more than half of all visitors to the island. This campaign will involve direct marketing and social media initiatives, as well as promotions with tour operators and air and sea carriers. It will capitalises on the British market and intensively promote Dublin to the British holidaymaker.

Frank Magee of Dublin Tourism states: “The capital city attracted 1.5 million visitors from Britain last year, which resulted in five million bed nights, but losing its market share in Britain. Dublin has been the driver in Irish tourism, bolstering the Irish figures in recent years and there’s a realisation that if Dublin doesn’t do well, Ireland doesn’t do well.”

What a load of verbal diarrhea Mr Magee. Ireland’s false reputation of being an expensive holiday destination is spread by Tourists who spend too much time in Dublin drinking €3.50 cups of coffee served by staff who do not speak English .

Come on down to Tipperary folks if you want a holiday offering value for your money. Thurles is the ancestral home of your head of state, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, and it is here you can experience friendly relaxation, carefree fun and craic, your children can run wild and run free, the air is clean and you can find your car still parked where you left it the night before.

It would appear rural Irish taxpayers, for far to long, have been the silent and subservient suppliers of ‘money on demand’ to support Dublin tourism, so let us keep things in perspective remembering that in 2009 the Irish Hotels Federation represented almost 1,000 hotels and guesthouses throughout the whole country, which in turn employ over 59,000 people. It seems only proper that those beyond the Pale should like their fair slice of the tourism promotion cake.

How Much Money Was Spent Promoting Our Capital City Dublin In The Past Ten Or So Years?

€5m for “The Monument of Light” or “Spire Of Light” erected in O’Connell Street, better known by the names: ‘The Spike’, ‘The Stiletto in the Ghetto’, ‘The Erection at the Intersection’, ‘The Poker next to Croker’ and ‘The Stiffy in the Liffey’. At the time of its erection on O’Connell Street in 2003, the Spire Of Light was described as “self-cleaning”, but Dublin’s city council now concede that its maintenance cost €205,000 last year and will increase to at least €218,000 this year, and thats before they pick up a discarded chip bag.

Continue reading Dublin – A Plague On Your City Says Rural Ireland

Open Day At Matt Fogarty’s Tree Farm Nenagh

An open day will take place on Sunday next, July 25th at Matt Fogarty’s tree farm and nursery near Ballinderry, Nenagh, Co Tipperary.

Matt’s Tree Nursery holds a wide range of both native and exotic species and he has visited woods and arboretums around the world, the evidence of which can be seen growing here in Ballinderry.

The nursery is situated between Terryglass and Ballinderry close to beautiful Lough Derg. There are over 12 hectares of hardwood trees, hundreds of species, in varying sizes. The Deer and Pheasant run freely here and there are also an abundance of wild fowl living in and around the on-site pond area.

Matt won Farm Forester of the year in 1995 and Amenity Forester of the year in 2000. Warning however, Matt and Mary Fogarty’s passion for Mother Nature is very highly contagious, as seen when they guide groups, families or individuals through the tranquillity of their tree heaven.

As stated, there are over 12 hectares of different species to be admired and studied: e.g. Walnut, Oak, Copper Beech, and Spanish Chestnut, to Maple, Hornbeam, and the magnificent California Redwood, plus many others in different stages of maturity.

Imagine, If You Can, A World Without Trees

The American Soldier, Journalist and Poet Alfred Joyce Kilmer probably best described our love of this perennial woody plant in this simple poem.

“Trees” by Poet Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886–1918)

I think that I shall never see – A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest – Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day – And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear – A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain; – Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me, – But only God can make a tree.

Another American poet Frederic Ogden Nash (1902–1971) well known for his light humorous verse, slightly changed the wording of this poem, lamenting the unnecessary destruction of our forests and the erection of massive wooden highway billboards, both adding to the destruction of our scenic environment.

“Trees” By Poet Frederic Ogden Nash (1902–1971)

I think that I shall never see, – A billboard lovely as a tree.
Indeed, unless the billboards fall, – I’ll never see a tree at all.

So if you are out and about this Sunday, you fancy a tree to enhance your dwelling place, don’t miss this opportunity to learn, at first hand, how you can grow a wide range of wonderful trees, many of which you will not be familiar, but which are very well suited to our Irish climate.

Ivor Callely – Is There Something In Our Water

The first occurrence of fluoridated drinking water was found in Germany’s Nazi prison camps during World War 11. The Gestapo had little concern about fluoride’s supposed effect on children’s teeth; one of their alleged reason, according to some scientists, for this mass-medicating of water with sodium fluoride, was to force the prisoners in their concentration camps into a quiet, calm submission.
I now believe that there is too much sodium fluoride in Ireland’s drinking water and I base my belief on the following two reported incidents which leave me very, very confused indeed.

Senator Ivor Callely

Incident (A) – In 2009 a former treasurer of a GAA club west of Thurles was sentenced to 12 months in prison after stealing almost €100,000 of club funds. The mother of one, when reported to the Gardai, publicly admitted to multiple charges of forging cheques to the value of almost €35,000 and stealing almost €64,000 from the clubs weekly lottery. To correct her mistake, the 49-year-old raised approximately €59,000 from the sale of a house she was due to inherit from her mother.
Imposing a twelve month sentence, Judge Carroll Moran said the offence “goes to the very heart of the proper running of a social club in the community, and the gravity of the offence must be reflected in the sentence passed.”

Note: No confusion here, proper order, well done Judge Carroll Moran.

Incident (B) – Earlier this week, a Seanad committee on members’ interests found that Senator Ivor Callely, who is/was according to himself, Chairman of the Oireachtas Human Rights Committee, Member of the Foreign Affairs Committee, Head of the Irish Delegation to the Organisation for Security and Co operation in Europe, a Member and Spokesperson on Enterprise, Trade and Employment, had intentionally committed an act of “a serious and grave nature” by claiming travel expenses from west Cork rather than his home in Clontarf, Co Dublin, thus defrauding the Irish tax payer of some €80,000.

Continue reading Ivor Callely – Is There Something In Our Water

Yesterday We Were Campaigning But Today you voted

While walking down a rural road one day, a well known Tipperary Teachta Dála figure is tragically trampled under foot, during a domestic stag hunt and gets killed. His soul gently soars up to ‘Heaven’ and is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

‘Sir ,welcome to heaven,’ says St. Peter. ‘ Now before you settle in, it seems there is a slight problem. We seldom see such a high profile official such as yourself around these parts and to be honest we’re not quite sure what to do with you.‘

‘No problem, just let me in and inform God I have arrived,’ says the Tipp TD.

‘Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from God already. He suggests that perhaps you should spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where you would like to live for all eternity.‘

‘I’ve already made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,‘ says the TD.

‘I’m sorry Sir, but we have our rules.‘ And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator marked ‘Hell’ and he goes down, down, down to Hell.

When the doors open our TD finds himself in the middle of a rich, green race course. In the distance is the Galway Tent and standing in front of it are all his old deceased friends. There are Bankers, Developers, Gamblers, Members of the Horsey Fraternity, County and Urban District Councillors and other politicians who previously had dealings with him.

Everyone is in splendid evening dress. They rush to greet him, shake his hand, and begin to reminisce about the good times, when brown envelopes were a daily ritual, and un-vouched expenses were the order of the day, courtesy of stupid gullible tax payers. Chauffeur driven Mercedes take them to play a leisurely game of golf and then they later dine on lobster, caviar and champagne at the clubhouse. Also present in their midst is Lucifer himself, who appears to be a very friendly, quick witted fellow and who mixes well with all assembled. They are having such a good time that before our TD realizes it, his 24 hours is up and it is time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves goodbye, while the elevator rises up, up, up and the door re-opens at the entrance to ‘Heaven’ where St. Peter sits behind reception waiting for him.

‘Now it’s time for your visit to ‘Heaven.’ said he.

So another 24 hours pass with our TD joining a group of very contented souls happily sailing about from cloud to cloud, playing their harps and singing. Our popular TD has a relaxed time here and before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

‘Well, then, you’ve spent a day in ‘Hell’ and another in ‘Heaven’, now please choose where you would like best to be, for all eternity.’

Our TD reflects for a minute, then he answers: ‘Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think Hell would suit me best.‘

St. Peter escorts our TD to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to ‘Hell’.

When the doors of the elevator open he now finds himself in the middle of a dark barren landscape covered with waste and garbage.

All his old friends are present, but now dressed in smelly rags, picking up this trash and putting it in black bags, as more trash falls endlessly on top of them from above.

Lucifer comes over to comfort our TD and puts his arm around his shoulder.

‘I don’t understand,’ stammers our TD. ‘Yesterday I was here and there was a race course and a golf club, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What has happened?’

The devil looks at him, smiles and whispered, ‘Yesterday we were campaigning …… But today you voted.‘