of mice and kerrigans

The Daily Mail has foisted yet another harridan upon the general populace.

As its sales figures plummet the Daily Mail is resorting to more of an already failed strategy by filling its pages with the vapid musings of hagerdotal half wits.

The latest is Katie Kerrigan, an ex bim who styles herself an author.

I spluttered a little into my cornflakes when Katie Kerrigan claimed in her column to have some sort of a relationship with the Catholic Church.

From her previous writings I had filed her under Anti Catholic Bitch.

Which is what she is.

But no.

Like the atheist pro IRA terrorist grotesquery Nell McCafferty (also a regular contributor to the Daily Mail) Katie Kerrigan likes to claim occasionally to be Catholic.

This in spite of the fact that Katie Kerrigan occasionally lets slip she's an atheist.

I cleaned up the spluttered cornflakes and had time to wonder briefly why Katie Kerrigan's attempts to damn the Catholic Church by infiltrating it should annoy me so.

It's not just the gall of these atheists.

No it's something else.

A little bell went.

I've been aware of Katie Kerrigan's anti Catholic maunderings for decades.

But why on earth would I care?

A little bell.

What is it?

If you've seen one anti clerical piece of crap, you've seen them all.

It was something more.

Ping.

A memory.

I had seen a young Evening Herald journalist on a television programme fifteen years ago, investigating a haunted house in Galway.

She had been pretty and vacant and gormless.

Typical Independent Newspapers fodder.

Good grief, I think it was the very Katie Kerrigan beloved of song, story, Independent Newspapers and latterly the Daily Mail.

Some of the dessicated old editors at Independent House liked to have a bit of totty wandering around the corridors.

Since they don't believe in God, the totty gives them something to contemplate.

But any business can only carry a limited amount of ballast.

Which is the prime reason why after two decades of claiming to be a successful newspaper group, Independent Newspapers, The Irish Independent, The Evening Herald, The Sunday Independent, The Sunday World, et al, (particularly al, I hate him) together owe their creditors billions of dollars.

While being successful they've run up debts of nearly two billion.

Yeah we could all be Ireland's most successful newspaper group if idiot banks would give us two billion dollars to throw away.

But I digress.

Great Scott, was it her?

Katie Kerrigan.

I remember watching the television programme with my jaw permanently lowered.

The gormlessness of the girl had been well nigh cosmic.

It could have been her.

She'd interviewed a Galway family who were faking paranormal incidents in their home to get on television.

A blind man could have seen it.

It was so obvious.

But not to this girl.

She'd failed to speak directly to the priest in the area who would have told her of his concerns that the family were a bunch of low life sensation seekers.

While she was talking to the family in one room of their not haunted house, there was an explosion in the other room.

Chairs and tables were blackened.

A small vase was shattered.

The moment I reviewed this data I knew what it was.

The family had concealed a small quantity of thermite explosive in the vase and detonated it.

Had to be.

As of yet there is no other instance on the planet earth of poltergeists setting off explosives.

But the pretty little Evening Herald totty wasn't thinking this way.

She told the camera: "I'm a level headed person. I'm an atheist. I don't believe in God. But when I heard the bang I shuddered. It was so creepy."

Ah yes.

You see.

Here's the deal.

When they stop believing in God, they start believing in anything.

The pretty little totty (I can't call her a journalist or an author because she is neither of those things) neglected to take a sample of dust from the remains of the vase.

She neglected to have any item in the room tested for the presence of thermite explosive.

Oh baby.

Was this pretty goon really the great Katie Kerrigan?

Author?

Poet?

Totty?

I remember how the programme ended.

It had been produced by a British television company with Michael Aspell narrating.

The investigation concluded with a speculative historical reconstruction of what might have caused the house to be haunted.

The reconstruction filmed with sledge hammer subtlety featured a nun hundreds of years ago becoming pregnant by a priest. In this purely fictional reconstruction, the baby was murdered.

That was the conclusion of the paranormal investigation.

Poltergeist activity caused by evil Catholics sexing each other and killing their kid.

Apparently the possibility that the present day family who lived in the Galway house were making things up, ie recounting experiences directly lifted from the Amittyville Horror film, and then detonating powdered explosive in their living room, apparently the notion that these television obsessed idiots might be telling pork pies, never occurred to the programme makers.

Or to that briliantly sceptical twit from the Evening Herald.

Holy half wits Batman.

Could it really have been THE Katie Kerrigan?