The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

My Photo
Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

My recent recording now available for download or streaming:
Not the Theme Tune to Casino Royale

Friday, December 19, 2014

strange visitors

come with me
to the darkest most beautiful night
that the world has ever seen
and ever might
we can sit on the straw
we'll get warm from it
and watch the stillness draw
a cloak of peace
through a time of war
lambs are calling in the fields
that this night is forever
and forever yields
to this night
we are there
hid in the warmth
from things that are old
and things that are rare
look look my friend
and myrrh

the retirement of slasher magee

Respected mob enforcer Slasher Magee has announced he is to retire shortly.
There wasn't a dry eye in gangland when the veteran thug issued a statement this week informing his fans that he was going to hang up his bhong forever. (Gun surely - ed note)
"It's awful news," sobbed Giancarlo Gambino of New York's respected Cosa Nostra syndicate. "What are we going to do now when we want someone rubbed out? Who we gonna call? The f--king ghostbusters?"
A clearly emotional Mr Gambino assured the press that he was expressing the feeling of other respected businessmen everywhere who have managed for years to maintain their affiliates all over the world through the use of amoral hired thugs like Slasher.
All across Europe, respected mob blitzers, harlots, and street scruff were stunned.
"Who will look after us now?" sobbed Buzzcut O'Sycho of the respected Skangroy Park Sychos. "What will happen when we're up before the Judges? Our buzzcuts don't work any more. We've been in court so many times that even the Judges can tell the difference between us. And so can our victims. Boo hoo hoo. Oh who will we turn to now to step forward in court and say: Spare them jail your honour and I'll take them under my wing. Oh boo. Boo hoo. Boo hoo hooooo."
Similar emotions were expressed at an improptu gathering of respected skanks and skummers in one of Glasgow's most salubrious speak easies.
"We love Slasher Magee," commented respected Al Qaeda liaison officer Abdul RAHman. "You can't open a mob business on Main Street unless you've got someone like Slasher to protect you. Allah u akbar. Allah u akbar. Allah u akbar. Sorry. I lost it there for a minute? Where was I? Oh yes. Al Qaeda wishes to join all those other community minded organisations in mourning the passing of this giant of crime."
Slasher's son Fauntleroy and daughter Dribblicia issued a joint statement through their lawyer.
"Slasher Magee is a great father," they averred. "He would always ask us to leave the room out of respect before beating the living sh-t out of Mammy. Except when he got us to hold her down of course."
The London Stock exchange fell six resepectful gun shots on news of Slasher's...
(That's enough Slasher - Ed note.)
(You're f--king right it is - Heelers note)

Thursday, December 18, 2014

heelers helps the homeless

There have been copious gallons of crocodile tears shed by Ireland's political and media elites over last month's death of a young homeless man a few yards from the front door of the Irish parliament.
My old nemesis Archbishop Diarmuid Martin emerged from left wing slumber to donate a food kitchen and preen his wings for the cameras.
Sundry other left wing nemeses loosed a ripe caterwaul claiming the Republic of Ireland itself had failed the young man.
Their loudest calls were for more funding for more hand wringers to spend more time wandering the streets of Dublin trying to force more drug addicts to move out of more doorways into more beds for the night.
The Stalinist State broadcaster RTE led the charge with its chief simperer news reader Sharon Boland hand wringing on the streets of Dublin in what appeared to be a leather fetish outfit.
I suppose it's one way of warming up the homeless.
Ho hum.
Here is the news.
The people of Ireland did not fail that homeless man.
Nor did the Irish nation.
Nor did his family.
In fact, the real cause of death for that homeless man was not that he slept outdoors on a winter's night.
He had died many years previously.
The real cause of his death was the drugs that that homeless man had been hooked on by drug gangs from his youth.
I say this to you in all sincerity.
That homeless man was murdered.
That homeless man was murdered by the drug gangs who hooked him on their poisons when he was young, and heartlessly filled him with those poisons until he was a shambolical wreck incapable of accepting the help that had been freely offered to him throughout his life.
The criminals selling drugs are responsible for the death of every drug addicted homeless person whether their victims die of exposure or not.
In every case, the homeless people die because they have been reduced to helpless shells by the criminal combines who enslave them to poisons.
By the way, that homeless man owned two houses over the course of his young life. His family gave him those houses. And he sold both to pay for drugs. For much of his life he had access to a third house, in the form of the family home if he had chosen to avail of it.
That homeless man was murdered by the same sleazoid drug gangs who prey on all of us.
All the socialist fetishistic hand wringing in the world, all the free money and methadone treatment programmes in the world, all the wearisome atheistic victim culture "it's not his fault, he never had a chance" style maunderings in the world, will not change the fact, that that young man's homelessness was caused, perpetuated and coup de graced by drug gangs.
So then.
It's clear isn't it.
The only real way to fight homelessness is to go to war with the drug gangs.
For Ireland, that means going to war with Ibrahim Buwisir's Al Qaeda and his Moroccan gangs in Dublin, with the Russian Mafia, with the IRA, with the Tinker gangs, with the Triads, with the whole damn bunch.
They've killed more than 5000 people in Ireland during the past decade by hooking them on poison and filling them with it till they die.
Five thousand human beings dead through drug use in ten years in a small island country with a population of about three and a half million.
Can you believe it.
Five thousand.
Those are official government figures by the way.
Five thousand in a decade.
That's more than the IRA killed in Northern Ireland between 1969 and 1999 in 30 years of continuous torture, murder and mayhem.
Kinda makes you think, dunnit.
You know what folks.
The IRA are killing more people in the Republic of Ireland today and at a faster rate, through their drug distribution activities, than they ever did when they were waging full scale terror war on the streets of Belfast.
That's my point.
If any of you really do care about the homeless.
Stop the hand wringing and the hand outs.
Stop the socialist solutions which only ever breed more dependency and more depravity and which are ultimately doomed to collapse when the rest of the world becomes unwilling to pay our bills for us.
If we want to help the homeless, I suggest we do so in a lasting way by interdicting those drug dealing criminals who profit by reducing human beings to a state whereby they are incapable of being anything but homeless.
We must break the criminal combines aggrandise themselves by hooking children on poisons.
We must deal with the criminals who profit from fostering and servicing such drug addictions.
We must go to war with the drug dealing mafias who are currently carving up Ireland into personal fiefdoms.
End the mafias and you will go a long way towards ending homelessness.
"Help the homeless," means "Fight the mafia."
Harsh words.
The guilt ridden warm hearted cliches of RTE, Archbishop Martin and the politicians might make you feel good at Christmastime.
They might even convince you that you've made a difference without actually doing anything or taking any risks for your country.
But it's all flannel.
Or in Sharon Boland's case cheap imitation leather.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

today they said

President Barack Obama: "This attack shows the depravity of our enemies." (Referring to the murder today of more than 130 children by the Taliban in Pakistan.)

James Healy: "No. This attack shows what happens when an appeaser President who got elected by falsely and maliciously criminalising his predecessor, withdraws our armies from the field before the war is over."

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

senator feinstein's gambit

United States Senator Dianne Feinstein has released a partisan Democratic Party report into the CIA designed explicitly to distract attention from Barack Obama's incompetence as President by falsely labelling his predecessor George Bush a war criminal.
The report was compiled by the Democratic Party.
Not by the US senate.
You all know my opinions on this.
I believe a world wide Muslim terror army threatens humanity with a new dark ages.
I believe that Muslim Jihadi's use major mafia groups such as the IRA, Cosa Nostra, the Farc, Zetas, Russia Mafia, Nigerian gangsters, Chinese Triads, et al (particularly Al, I hate him) to vector along people trafficking rat lines into western countries.
I believe Barack Obama is an historically incompetent President.
I would ask you to be aware that in the week Senator Feinstein released her report, the Taliban attacked a school in Pakistan, and murdered more than 130 children.
We must fight them or surrender to them.
The wars of the future will be mafia.
That is all.

the last hurRAH

In Ireland Judge Seamus O'Donabhain has given a suspended jail sentence to five fraudsters who attempted to steal a couple of million dollars from a bank through fake property transactions.
That is to say Judge Seamus O'Donabhain sentenced them to a grand total of nought years in prison.
The Irish police had actually gone to the trouble of getting the five fraudsters into court (a few more didn't show up and a few others are awaiting trial in the same case) and Judge Liberal let em off.
I don't care what mafia Seamus O'Donobhain is in.
I don't cafe if he's a Rah man.
I don't care if he's Al Qaeda.
I don't care if he's something else that takes money from fraudsters in order to turn them loose.
I want him gone.
As a citizen I want him disbarred from being a Judge and from collecting those million dollar pensions bankrupt Ireland lavishes on her Judges.
If enough of you agree with me, we can make it happen.

the rocky murdocks picture show

The screen is dark.
A disembodied male voice sings as the opening credits appear in the blackness.
The voice is plaintive, poignant and oddly beautiful.


The Voice: (singing)
"I remember the chill
The day Newsweek stood still
Claiming US troops flushed Korans down the jax
And Piers Morgan was there
In silver underwear
Cheerleading the Jihadi attacks.
Then something went wrong
For Rupert Murdock and his son
They got caught in a phone tapping jam
And at a deadly pace
It came from outer space
And this is how the message ran.
Science Fiction
Ooh, oooh, oooh
Double feature.
George Bush is a liar
Tony Blair's his creature
See Jihadis fighting
Not terrorists but insurgents
And lots of talk about quagmires
It's all so urgent
Woh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
Woh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Surrender show
I remember the sorrow
When the New York Times had to borrow
Five hundred million from a Sanchez named Slim
And the Washington Post
Soon gave up the ghost
And told us that Al Qaeda would win
Then something went weirder
For Piers Morgan at the Mirror
He published fake torture photos just to pay his bills
But I really stepped back
When Lukwesa Burak
Got a haircut that spits poison and kills
In a
Science Fiction
Wooh oooh oooh
Double feature
Rupert Murdock
Oooh oooh oooh
We'll build a creature
See lawyers fighting
At the Leveson Enquiry
And Adam Bolton wondering
Why the hell don't they fire me
Woh oh oh oh oh oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture Show
Woh oh oh oh oh oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
At the late night
Woo ooh ooh
Sky News feature
Picture show
Woh oh oh oh
I wanna go oh oh oh
To the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
Oh oh oh oh oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show


(Camera cuts to the interior of a Starbucks cafe in South London. It is the Starbucks where Jannat Jalil from Sky News has her morning espresso. James Healy is at a table eyeing Jannat. She, being a fan of the Heelers Diaries, knows well he is stalking her. He approaches her table tentatively.)

James: Jannat.
Jannat: Yes James.
James: (awkwardly) I really admired the elegant way,
                               You read the evening news,
                               On Sky the other day.
Jannat: Yes James.
James: Jannat.
Jannat: Yes James.

(Music starts. Other diners sing the part of the Chorus.)

James: The road was long but I ran it.
Chorus: Jannat!
James: The river was broad but I swam it
Chorus: Jannat!
James: I've one thing to say
           And that's dammit Jannat, I love you.
           Here's the ring and now you'll never look back
           True I may have a pot belly and a saggy butt
           But my love for you is deeper than for Lukwesa Burak
           She spoilt her chances with that haircut, tut tut
Jannat: This ring is flashier than Kay Burleigh's mind games.
Chorus: Oh James
Jannat: It fills my heart with passion and sultry flames
Chorus: Oh James
Jannat: And I've one thing to say, and that's James, I'm insane for you too.
James: Dammit Jannat.
Jannat: Oh James, I'm insane.
James: Dammit Jannat.
Jannat: Oh James, I'm insane.
James: Dammit Jannat.
Jannat: Oh James, I'm insane.
James and Jannat: (together) I love you.


(Camera cuts to a country road on a dark night. James and Jannat are driving through the rain. The car runs out of petrol. The two sit for a moment in silence.)

Jannat: What kind of man doesn't fill his car with petrol before a long journey?
James: I never put more than ten Euro's worth in the tank.
Jannat: Why?
James: Well I wanted to punish the government for imposing punitive taxation rates on petrol. And I wanted to punish the garages for failing to organise an effective lobby to stop the government imposing this tax. And I wanted to punish the oil conglomerates for trying to corner the market in oil through forward buying, thereby driving the price of a barrel of oil to 100 dollars when it should be less than ten, and perpetually gambling that the price of oil will rise and then forcing it to do so through their astonomical borrowings from collapsed idiot banks. And I wanted to punish the Arabs and the OPEC organisation for operating an illegal oil cartel against the rest of humanity. All of these corrupt vested interest groups have traded on the notion that we will never respond to their price gouging. They have waxed fat on the idea that oil is not a price sensitive commodity. We have allowed them to believe that we will buy their oil no matter what they charge. This is a very negative delusion to encourage in governments, garages or Arabs. It is apt to confuse them.
Jannat: So you punished them by stranding us.
James: Er yes.
Jannat: Oh James.
James: Oh Jannat.
Jannat: I think I might be Muslim.
James: What's that?
Jannat: Nothing. Let's go search for help.


(Camera cuts to the two now walking along the roadside in the rain. They are making their way towards a castle in the distance which has a light shining in a single window. The music kicks in.)

Jannat: (singing)
In the velvet darkness
Of the blackest night
No matter where
There's a guiding light

James & Jannat: (singing together)
There's a light
Over at the Murdock place
There's a ligh-igh-igh-ight
Burning in the fireplace
There's a ligh-igh-igh-ight
In the darkness
Of every night

(Camera cuts to the window of the castle. Sky News Overseas foreign affairs correspondent Tim Marshall is sitting at the window watching the rain. Tim Marshall has in the past year been sent to report from Libya, Egypt, Syria, in fact from every trouble spot in the world where there is even the remotest chance that his life might be in danger. An uncharitable observer might conclude that someone at Sky is indeed trying to kill him.)

Tim Marshall: (singing)
The darkness must glow
Down the river of my dreaming
Until Kay Burleigh goes
The sun cannot come streaming
Into my life
Into my ligh-igh-igh- ife

(Camera returns to James and Jannat)

James & Jannat:
There's a light
Over at the Murdock place
There's a ligh-igh-igh-ight
It's burning in the fireplace
There's ligh-igh-igh-ight
In the darkness
Of every night


(Camera cuts to James and Jannat knocking on the door of Castle Murdock. The door opens to reveal Kevin Murdock (son of Rupert) dressed as the character Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Behind him we can see Rebekkah Wade, formerly Managing Director at News International, dressed as a sexy maid.)

James: Our car broke down.
Riff Raff: You've come on a very important night. The master is having one of his affairs.
James: You mean now he's cheating on Wendy Deng?
Jannat: Shhh.
Riff Raff: I think perhaps you'd better come inside.


(Scene: Castle interior. A group of garishly dressed guests have congregated. James and Jannat stare as without warning Riff Raff bursts into a most infectious musical number. The other party guests join in at just the right places.)

Riff Raff:
I remember
Doing the Truth Warp
Those moments when
People gave us direct debit access to their personal bank accounts
To pay for Sky Channel
Let's do the News International again.
Let's bribe the police force again.
It's just a jump to the left
And a step to the righ-igh-igh-ight
You put your hands on your hips
And bring your knees in tigh-igh-ight
But it's tapping people's phones
That really knocks you insa-a-a-a-ane
Let's do the Truth Warp again
Let's do the News Corp again
It's just a jump to the left.
And a step to the righ-igh-igh-ight
You bribe the Chief of Police
And bring your knees in tigh-igh-ight
But it's owning the law
That really knocks us insa-a-a-a-ane
Let's do the News Corp again
Lets bribe the police force again

(Riff Raff and the partygoers collapse in an exhausted heap. James and Jannat don't quite know what to do. Although James has appreciated the verve of the performance and is clapping vigorously.)

Jannat: Let's get out of here.
James: Nonsense. It's just getting good. Let's stay and see what happens next.
Jannat: This is not the Athy Chamber of Commerce James.
James: (With infinitely smug middle class political correctness) They're probably just Muslims with ways different from our own.
Jannat: I'm cold. I'm frightened. And I'm just plain scared. Oh. And I think I'm a Muslim too.
James: (Still infinitely smug and middle class and not really taking anything in.) Don't worry darling. We all are. Now stop being frightened. I'm here. Nothing can possibly go wrong. If we're lucky, in a moment maybe these simple country folk will perform some more shameless parodies from the Rocky Horror Picture Show for our amusement.


(As James and Jannat are talking the other party goers and Riff Raff have slowly revived and risen to their feet. Suddenly, a door bursts open behind Jannat's shoulder. Rupert Murdock struts in. Jannat faints. James looks enthused. Rupert launches into his trademark song.)

Not another wordo
I'm Rupert Murdo
And he's... (indicating Riff Raff)
My faithful maitre delice
He's a little brought down
Because when you knocked
He thought you were the
Chief of Police
Don't get strung out
By the way I look
Don't judge a company by its corrupt corporate management
I may look 86 years old
By the light of day
But at night I look positively indigent
I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly Ineffective

James: (rapping and breaking any number of copyrights held by Jim Sharman and Richard O'Brien)
I'm glad we caught you at home
May we use your phone
We're both in a bit of a hurry
We'll just say where we are
And then get back to the car
We don't want to be any worry

Rupert: (singing)
So you got caught with a breakdown
In the middle of my shakedown
Don't you panic
Even if Jannat dumps you
I'll find a more exotic broad to hump you
I'll get you a satanic Hispanic
Cos I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly Ineffective
Sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective

(Rupert pauses to drink a cup of water. A man emerges from the chorus and throws a pie at him. The pie is neatly deflected by Wendy Deng who quickly hustles the would be assailant away while whaling the living tripe out of him with a metal dish.)

Rupert: (rapping)
Why don't you stay for the night
You could both have a bite
I won't tolerate any... dissension
I've been building a corrupt corporate media monopoly
You know with fake oversight from a board of directors who are all related to me
And they're good to relieve my... tension
I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective
Sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective
Don't get strung out
Because I bought the police
Don't judge a corrupt police buying company
By its corrupt corporate management
I may seem to buy a lot of cops
By the light of day
But at night
I get positively extravagant
Because I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective

(Rupert changes tack suddenly and incomprehensibly)

Rupert: (singing)
The transducer will seduce ya.
You're a sensual attapensual
When we tapped your phones
Did you hear a bell ring???
You better wise up
Lord Leveson
You better shape those thighs up
And close those eyes up
I've got a gun
And I'm launching a Sunday Sun

Charles Grey: Until she cried out...

Jannat: Allah U Akbar.

(The music stops. Everyone turns and stares. Some of the more ghoulish extras cower a bit. Jannat somewhat guiltily puts her hands over her lips and looks apologetic. By the way, I challenge anyone to discern what those lines about a sensual attapensual were in the original Rocky Horror Show movie. Not since Peter Sarstead sang about lowly bontags in Where Do You Go To My Lovely, has there been such an incomprehensible vaguely obscene lyric. Or how about the bit, again in the original Rocky Horror, when Rupert sang: "How do ya do, I'm... Field Mabs Meim... faithful handyman." What the heck is Field Mabs Meim? The enigmas endure.)


(The awkward moment following Rupert's song and Jannat's exclamation is brought to a halt by Riff Raff drawing a ray gun and vapourising Rupert. Rebekkah Wade is upset by this turn of events.)

Rebekkah: Why did you do that? I thought you liked him. He liked you.

Riff Raff: (With infantile fury) He never liked me. And it was time for him to go. Heelers has clearly run out of steam. He's just lifting lines from the Rocky Horror Show. There aren't even any jokes.

(Riff Raff and Rebekkah turn slowly and threateningly towards James and Jannat)

Riff Raff: (With preternatural menace) You two had better leave us. My beautiful Rebekkah get ready. We return to Tasmania immediately. Prepare the transit beam.

(James and Jannat, having seen the Rocky Horror Show, know it's time to flee the building.)

Scene: Castle exterior. James and Jannat fall in the mud and continue scrambling towards the gate. Behind them a spectacular Truth Warp bathes the News International HQ in mystic police investigations. Presently the entire building vanishes. Gone. On a voodoo wind. Back to Tasmania. For a moment on the cold night air it is almost as if you can hear the voice of former Sun editor Kelvin MacKenzie hissing: "A hundred and seventy police officers investigating us. That's more than investigated Lockerbie. Cor blimey. Worra waste. Cor Bliiiiiimmmmmaaaiiiieeeee." James and Jannat are left alone in the dirt. A voiceover kicks in. It is Charles Grey whom we met very briefly and inexplicably during the last song, now reprising his career best performance as the Criminologist in the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Charles Grey: (intoning)
And crawling
On the planet face
Some insects
Called the human race
Not members of the Board of News International
And not entitled to any dignity or respect or grace
Or indeed help from the police in the event that Rupert Murdock's staff, agents or companies assail, assault, violate, transgress, phone tap, kill, rape, burglarise, conduct posthumous show trials (like they did with Jimmy Saville to distract public attention from the Leveson Enquiry), or otherwise mitigate our rights in any way before the law
Even though
Cor blimey
We don't even let the police hack the phones of Jihadis
And Murdock's crew were doing it as a matter of course
To all of us
Cor blimey
We're all lost
Lost in time
And lost in space
And meaning


The screen goes dark. The plaintive male voice from the opening credits returns to sing over the closing credits. The lyrics of the closing refrain are even more poignant than before. If that's possible.

The Voice: (singing)
There was once something rare
About Lukwesa Burak's hair
It made me want to grab her and kiss
I dreamed that we might
Run away in the night
But now I think I'll give it a miss
And Lisa Holland drove round
Old Tripoli town
With Saif Gadaffi sitting on her knee
And Rebekkah Wade
Was a sexy maid
She was
At least she worked for me
In a
Science Fiction
Double Feature
Rupert Murdock
We'll build a creature
See Alistair Campbell fighting
With Adam Bolton
Who's turning puce
And now quite molten
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
I really was there
For Adam Bolton's live melt down on air
When Alistair Campbell straightened his tie
And young Wendy Deng
Had developed a yen
For a billionaire 86 year old man
Then something went wrong
For Osama Bin Laden
He was caught in a special forces commando raid
And at a deadly pace
He got shot in the face
And this is what his last message said
Science fiction
Oooh oooh ooh
The Leveson Enquiry
Corrupt policeman
Massive bribery
See Freemasons fighting
James and Jannat
And the Murdock Family stars in
Forbidden planet
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
I wanna go
To the late night
Sky News feature
Surrender show
To the late night
Double feature
Sky News movie
Picture show

Monday, December 15, 2014


A children's home called Haut La Garenne on the island of Jersey is under investigation.
Allegations have emerged of serial sexual abuse, ritual violations, rapes and murders, taking place at the home.
The large number of allegations along with several other items of evidentiary information which have come into the public domain, point to many decades of violation, abuse, rape and murder of children at Haut La Garenne.
My analysis is that Haut La Garenne was used by a satanic cult for the ritual abuse of children.
My analysis is that this cult involves many levels of society on the island of Jersey, including political and law enforcement figures as well as prominent members of the business community.
I am disquieted by the manner in which the investigation is being handled.
I am disquieted that all members of staff who have at any time worked at Haut La Garenne have not been arrested, detained and interrogated.
I am disquieted that the senior officer investigating the case has been removed from the investigation.
I am disquieted at the manner in which the new senior officer investigating the case has dismissed many of the more serious allegations.
I do not believe the current investigators are seeking the truth.
I call on all men and women of good will to boycott the island of Jersey.
I call on all men and women of good will to boycott the products, people, industries, and holday resorts of the island of Jersey.
I call on David Cameron Prime Minister of Great Britain to take personal responsibility for the investigation.
I call on Queen Elizabeth the Second to intervene directly in this case, so that the murdered, raped, violated and ritually sacrificed children of Haut La Garenne will at last receive some form of justice.
There is no excuse for acquiescing in the child murders, rapes, ritual satanic sacrifices and sundry other tortures and violations, which have taken place at Haut La Garenne on the island of Jersey before the eyes of the world.
End this.
Bring the murderers to account.
Do it England.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

the key question

Question: Why is there anti semitism?

Answer: Because satan hates anyone God loves.

Friday, December 12, 2014

how the mafia got its groove back

The new White Water Centre had just opened in Ireland.
Everyone was excited.
A huge commercial shopping development creating jobs and business activity right here in the heartland.
Only the mafia was upset.
For management at the White Water Centre were young and naive.
And management at the White Water Centre were refusing to bow to mafia extortion threats.
It was all very upsetting.
For the mafia.
Didn't the White Water Management realise that the mafia run all large scale business operations in Ireland?
How on earth could they be convinced?
So the mafia began phoning in bomb threats to the White Water Centre.
All through the Summer.
And every time a bomb threat was received,  the Centre had to be evacuated.
So management gave in to the mafia.
The Rah got its extortion money. (Protection money they call it.)
Chinese Triads got the contract to clean the toilets via the Yu Dong Refrigeration company Ltd.
Eastern European gangs were given control of security.
Al Qaeda (ie Muslim drug gangs) were allowed to run the concession stands in the corridors. (They were selling ten foot tall wall lamps of the twin towers up until recently.)
And that is how the mafia got its groove back.

rah week at the heelers diaries

For the past seven days we've been celebrating Rah Week at the Heelers Diaries.
We've shared some larfs.
Changed the world a bit.
We even brought Brian Byrne into it once or twice.
But you know folks.
All I've got a is a clapped out arse of a Dell computer.
Three modems and the truth.
All I've got is a clapped out arse of a Dell computer.
The rest is up to you.

have devil worshippers murdering children in ireland avoided detection by using the terrorist rackateering IRA's rat line of infiltrators in the media, judiciary and police, to escape justice


heelers conquers brian byrne

Wandering up the stairs in the Tearman cafe.
Who do I espy at the top of the stairs but the famous Irish broadcaster, writer, poet, Brian Byrne sitting at his favourite table.
What to do.
I've inadvertently caught his eye.
My instinct is to look down and hurry past.
But the stairs is long.
I can't look down now.
He's seen me and is glaring most glaringly.
I've got to just brazen it out.
I walk towards him holding the gaze.
His faces is flushed. The eyes are bulging a bit. He seems to be labouring under the weight of a great pression.
I draw level with him.
It is not Brian Byrne at all.
It is a local gangland rah man skank whom I would not wish to stare down in my wildest dreams.
The gang banger is trembling as I pass.
So the f--k am I.

ooh ahhh up the national lottery

Mid the brouhaha that has been drummed up this week over the terrorist rackateering IRA's infiltration of the judiciary, police, media, civil service and trade union movement in Ireland (You drummed it up Heelers - Ed note) perhaps we should spare a thought for another institution of Irish public life which appears to have suffered a modest Rah infiltration.
I refer of course to the national lottery.
The Americans ran into problems with mafiosi infiltrating, and sometimes running, their lottery systems.
The Brits, notably Sir Richard Branson, have claimed that mafia groups were involved in tendering and running some of Britain's lotteries.
Is Ireland any different when it comes to mafia scum stealing from the citizenry?
I think not.
The Rah don't rig the Lottery every week.
Just now and again.
Three cases folks among many.
1. A Limerick gangland family won a hundred million dollars in the Euro millions lottery.
2. A Rah man collected 2.5 million Euro in the National Lottery.
3. There is a third generic method by which my sources suggest the Rah may obtain the occasional Lotto win. Let's speak theoretically to avoid breaking the libel laws. Let us state that the case I am about to outline is fictional but illustrates a potential IRA methodology for rigging the Irish National Lottery. Here's what happens. A couple, whose near relative died in a fictional gangland shooting, ie his fictional gangland pals fictionally shot him on his fictional doorstep in my f--king fictional town, claim to have purchased the winning ticket in the lottery. The couple take a court case against the actual holders of the ticket who have no idea what numbers they picked and believe it is possible they were given someone else's ticket. Out of pure decency, the innocent people who actually hold the winning ticket agree to give the claimant couple half the two million Euro prize. Could such eventualities be orchestrated by unscrupulous Rah men? All that is necessary for this gangland scam to be workable, is for the couple making the claim to have an accomplice on the staff of the shop selling lottery tickets. That's the sole capital investment they have to make, aside from buying the odd lottery ticket. As soon as a big win comes out of that shop, they can claim to have been given the wrong ticket. Their accomplice on the staff can say: "Oh yeah I did give them to wrong ticket.I remember it all so clearly. I recall their exact numbers, and handing them the wrong ticket, and giving their very ticket to the people who won. I remember it all.. What can have come over me." And if the nice people who'd actually won the Lottery are nice enough, they might even divvy up half the prize right there and then without the need for the gangland couple to perjure themselves in court. And if they do go to court, why with all the judges on the Rah payroll, they might even win there.