The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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

Friday, January 08, 2010

heelers excoriates the hired help

Dear President Mary McAleese.
I was somewhat surprised to see you did not attend Justin Keating's funeral and instead sent a lowly emissary to represent you.
I know how busy you are with the sales at Brown Thomas.
I know how difficult it is for people on your low pay grade to find time for anything as trivial as the funeral of an elder statesman these days.
And I know how difficult it is for people from Northern Ireland to understand basic human values.
Let me enlighten you.
McAleese when a statesman dies, you don't send the the lowly pissboy to pay your respects.
In the Republic of Ireland (as opposed to Northern Ireland where it's taken you people five hundred years to learn to be barely civil to each other), in the Republic of Ireland I say, in the Republic of Ireland of which you are for some incomprehensible reason President, in this same Republic I tells ee, the President of Ireland doesn't stay home sipping champers with scruff from her family when a statesman is being buried.
You get up off your fat arse, cancel your trip to the sales, and go to the ephin funeral.
That's what I pay you for, you evil Fianna Fail faux Catholic nazi bitch.
As for Prime Minister Brian Cowan.
The great grape ape of international politics.
Mr Cowan you too chose to send a stand in to the funeral of Justin Keating.
I understand you were very busy on the day.
The job of Prime Minister is not an easy one.
Boozing, wasn't it?
Let me explain to you what your job is.
You go to Justin Keating's funeral.
That's what you do.
That's all you do.
That's what your job amounts to.
You make time to attend Justing Keating's funeral.
Because he's worth ten thousand of you.
You incompetent kleptocratic thieving gypsy bastard.
Fond regards.
James Healy.


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