The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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

Sunday, October 10, 2010

brennt derbyshire?

Berlin 1945.
A fire storm rings the city.
The Russians are closing in on all sides.
Hell follows with them.
It is all but over.
In the Fuhrer bunker, Adolf Hitler holds his daily conference.
His generals and high officials attend.
This is the Gotterdamerung.
The twilight of the gods.
Hitler is saying:
"Vere did it all go wrong? Ze share price of ze Third Reich is going zru ze floor. Vie oh vie did vee fire Heelers? What sort of foching clown recommended we fire him? What sort of mickeyless cowardly schweinhund presumed to dare to tzink foch witted toe rags like us could fire some vun of hiss calibre. Vot sort of foch faced schtink veasel came up vith ziss verdammte idea zat vee could fire a genius like Heelers and escape all ze consequences. I'm just asking you guys. Who vas ze foching genius who came up with zat one? Who was the deleterious fokker who came up with ze foching cretinous scheme to foch around in such a foching abysmally low rent way with Ireland's greatest living poet? Who? Who ze foch? Who ze foch put ziss whole verdammte business in motion? What fochin clype? Vitch of you fochin clowns was it?"
"It was General Foch," murmured Reichsminister Hermann Goering through a mouthful of wienerschnitzel.
Hitler grimaced as though in pain.
"You know vot?" he murmured grimly. "I'll bet zere's no one in ze foching Johnston Press or ze Leinster Leader who can even spell parallels."


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