anyone here speak stralian

Budgetrons from the planet Squawk. (ie Australia.)

a few good men

This happened ten years ago while I worked for a now defunct provincial newspaper.
I was sitting on the press bench in Athy District Court.
The Judge was cleaning out her ears or something and the courtroom was momentarily quiet.
A lawyer approached me.
It was Raymond Baines.
"Ahem, James, ahem," he said clearing his throat awkwardly, "if you, ahem, report that last case, ahem, the man involved will, ahem, lose his job."
I looked up from my notebook and favoured him with a level stare.
It's the sort of stare I use when I don't want people to know I've just been snoozing.
"I won't even talk to you about it Raymond," I said coolly.
"He'll lose his job," persisted the lawyer.
"I won't even talk to you about it," I said again, word for word, syllable for syllable, tone for tone.
Heelers the uncorruptible to the last.
The lawyer shook his head sadly and walked away.
The moral dilemma would be simple enough for me.
Since I'd been napping through the whole thing, there could be no question of reporting the case.
I never report them unless I can stand over every word.
Ethics, I call it.
Ethics and snoozing.
But Raymond Baines didn't need to know that.
I looked at my watch.
Close to midday.
The criminals of Athy had delighted me long enough.
I wandered outside to catch a spot of lunch at Bradbury's cafe.
I was also hoping to catch sight of Jill Bradbury the RADA actress whose family owned the cafe.
Ah, she's a honey I tells ee.
As I exited the courtroom, I had to squeeze past a few defendants waiting to be called.
One of them tried to grab my arm.
He missed.
"Don't put me in the paper right," he hissed with all the antique courtesy of his class.
I kept moving.
Across the road in the cafe I ensconced myself in a corner.
I was not keen to catch the eye of any of the other diners in case some might have been defendants in the morning's shenanigans.
A waitress brought me a fry.
While I munched I reached into the pocket of my coat for my notebook.
I wanted to review the morning's work.
The notebook was gone.
Well, well, well.
That was a lot of moral dilemmas shelved at a stroke.
But who had taken it?
I risked a glance around the room.
Three rough hewn defendant types mulling over coffee at an adjoining table seemed awfully amused about something.
You didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure it out.
There was little doubt they had stolen my notebook.
They were giggling like schoolgirls.
Macho dangerous tatooed psycho schoolgirls.
But schoolgirls nonetheless.
Only an intimate unlicensed guided tour of James Healy's reporter's notebook would be likely to have that sort of mirth making effect on the hoodlums of Athy.
They're so out of their minds on drugs, there's little else makes em laugh anymore.
I returned to my fry.
Rum thoughts were circling through my mind.
There were not many case notes in that there reporter's notebook.
If I remember rightly there was nearly nothing.
Below is an exact replica of what the notebook had been filled with cover to cover, over the course of the morning.

What the hoodlums saw...

Judge Mary Martin, portraits from life...

Pages and pages filled with doodles of Judge Mary Martin, showing her with an outsize beak for a nose.
This was a reference to the British practice of referring to Judges collectively as The Beak.
I was ever the witty one.

Hilarious, no.
There were two immediately observable effects on my life arising from the theft of my notebook.
Firstly the criminal classes of Athy never so much as raised a finger to me again. No more threats, elbows, nudges, shoulder jostles or dire warnings not to put their names in the paper. After seeing my work for themselves it was as though they no longer thought of me as the enemy. They no longer feared me. In fact they probably thought of me as one of their own.
Secondly, the lawyer Raymond Baines remained convinced for years, ten years to be precise, in fact right up until he sees this edition of The Heelers Diaries, the Venerable Baines remained absolutely certain that I had spiked the story to save his client's job. He never mentioned the case to me again, but I knew what he thought. It became a frequent occurrence when I was dining out in Athy, for restaurateurs to tell me at the end of the night: "That's alright James. There will be no charge. Mr Baines took care of it."

darkness visible

An Arab doctor styling himself Antoine Geagea is the subject of a misconduct hearing at the Irish Medical Council.

Geagea seemed to have some difficulty diagnosing a woman's breast cancer even though the charts and tests clearly showed she had breast cancer.

The woman with breast cancer is one of fifty sample cases featuring Antoine Geagea that Irish health authorities were concerned about.

Could he have been doing such things on purpose?

I think he was.

He failed to attend the hearing in Ireland.

He did send some letters from Finland asking for the hearing to be held without media coverage.

Good one Antoine.

Who needs reporting in this enlightened age?

Geagea is one of at least five Muslim and Arab doctors in Ireland who have recently faced hearings about failures to diagnose clearly diagnosable cancers.

In one case, a brace of Muslims in Drogheda hospital had been specifically informed by another doctor (non Muslim) that a patient had cancer.

They still took no action.

At their hearing the coroner accepted there had been a serious breakdown in communication.

Some breakdown.

Fairly serious for the victims alright.

As usual Irish media reportage of such cases is blinkered by anodyne liberal agendas which are incapable of seeing the wood for the Al Qaedas.

The Lebanese national who is the subject of the present enquiry maintains his career has suffered.

Maybe, but not as much as the woman whose cancer he couldn't be bothered diagnosing.

And amidst the copious verbiages of lawyers and Medical Councils and Coroners and All That Jazz, nobody but nobody mentions that zesty little peace loving combo Al Qaeda.

During the airport bombing in Scotland a few years ago, Al Qaeda agents were known to be operating a plan they called Those Who Save You Will Kill You.

The idea was that Muslim doctors in hospitals near the airport would murder the wounded being brought in from the bombing.

In the end the Muslims doing the bombing only managed to kill and injure each other.

Investigators and reporters had no interest in pursuing the Al Qaeda agents already in place in hospitals.

Unless Al Qaeda agents sign a confession and commit their murders on video tape, there's little hope any of them will be preventively detained in Britain.

But their plan Those Who Save You Will Kill You is alive and well and living in Ireland.

an open letter to nicola tallant journalist

Dear Nicola Tallant.

I have a vague acquaintanceship with you from somewhere.

I think I've met your features editor Neil Leslie as well.

Ah I remember now. I met you both on the Rathmines, College of Commerce Journalism Course, way back in the dulcet Autumn of 1992.

Today I am writing to congratulate you on a recent article you wrote for The Sunday World. The article featured your interview with a woman who as a child was sexually abused by a devil worship ring in the Dublin suburb of Dalkey.
Her parents had prostituted her to the devil worship ring.

In interviewing this woman you gave a voice to the voiceless.

I have one question.

The woman had been sexually abused by people ritually invoking satan. At the age of eleven she gave birth to a baby who was murdered. As a result of continuing depradations by the aforementioned devil worshippers, she later gave birth to another child who was also murdered.

Nickie, how on earth could you report this woman's story without once mentioning the devil, devil worship, satan, or satanists?

Your story mentions rituals a few time but it doesn't specify what sort of rituals.

Your readers could be forgiven for thinking the sex abuse group were nature worshippers.

Give my regards to The Great Leslie.

James Healy.

the night visitor

you stood by my side

i thought to plead

how can you be phantom

you are not dead

 

and you replied

except that i live

truly have i died

but i came here to forgive

 

outside in the east

the sun took dominion

never was a dawn

so like redemption

heelers saves association football

The game of soccer is nearly dead.

The only place where the game of soccer is of any interest and therefore worth saving is England.

Football in England has been irradiated with a negative ethos.

This ethos arose in the management style that prevailed in that country over the past hundred years and from there infected everywhere else.

We may call this ethos Management Football or Safety Soccer. It means every team playing boring defensive rubbish with eleven men huddled around their own goal mouth trying desperately to ensure nothing happens for ninety minutes. The morality of Management Football meant that any manager who risked adopting a more expansive style, would be fired when his team did not win the League. At the end of each year of wall to wall ninety minute bore fests, almost all teams would fail to win the League. Conceivably everyone should be fired. But the only ones fired would be the managers who dared to break ranks and risk letting their teams play real football. Or as in the case of Kevin Keengan, managers who attempted to force their teams to play real football. The negative ethos is exemplified by teams strategising to place one player in an attacker position while holding everyone else at the back. It is a pure and utter negation of the beautiful game.

The negative ethos of football is also exemplifed in England and internationally by the prevalence of another style which I call Hack And Slash Football or Fouler's Football. This means that the favoured strategy for dealing with any opponent who can play creatively or entertainingly, is simply to hack him to the ground. Both Pele in Brazil and George Best in England for all their skills were never really let entertain. They spent most of their careers writhing in agony on the ground. Hack And Slash football has infected and destroyed the game of soccer as truly as Management Football. The greatest apotheosis for Hack And Slash Football was a world cup final between Brazil and Italy when two teams each possessed of hugely skilful players, chose to direct all their energies and genius towards obtaining a nil all draw. Their hope was that the result would be decided, after ninety minutes of scoreless defensive play, by a penalty shoot out. When teams like Brazil and Italy are playing safe, the game is nearly finished.

The negative ethos of football is further demonstrated by the endemic use of drugs by players.

The negative ethos of football is further demonstrated by the practice of all teams in paying players ridiculously inflated wages which those players will never generate for the club.

The negative ethos of football is further demonstrated by a culture within the sport which encourages these overpaid bore-meister players to snarl in the faces of referees and linesmen.

The negative ethos of football is further demonstrated by the paying of bribes by gambling syndicates to linesmen and referees.

The negative ethos of football is further demonstrated by violence among those watching football games which are themselves so boring, that only a violent soccer yob looking for a fight could be bothered attending them.

The solutions are these:

1. Soccer will become a sport featuring nine players on each team.

2. The goals will be made larger so that Management Soccer, Safety Soccer, and Bore Meister Soccer are no longer feasible ways to play the game.

3. The off side rule will be in force only at centre field kick offs. It will then cease to operate.

4. No player will use drugs.

5. No doctor who facilitates drug use, will be allowed to have any association with soccer clubs.

6. Managers and players will be apprised that the game is about entertainment and being the best person they can be.

7. Hack And Slash football will no longer be tolerated. Players who can play will be let play. Players who try to break the ankles of players who can play will be sent off and/or banned from playing.

8. Clubs who wish to remain part of the reformed game will be aware that the game is about entertainment, family values, and the beauty of a physical contest honorably and honestly fought in good fellowship and friendship. You know the half wits will actually start to make profits again if the game gets interesting.

9. There will be zero tolerance for low life overpaid scruff players shouting in the faces of referees. It will simply cease to happen.

10. There will be zero tolerance for referees and linesmen taking bribes from gambling syndicates in Hong Kong.

11. Bruce Grobelaar and that other bribe accepting twit from Gladiators will be given a formal kick in the arse. I mean John Fashanu.

12. Each game will have ten referees who will ask for assistance in difficult decisions from video replays.

13. The practice of demoting teams from different divisions will be abandoned. Teams will have tenure in their divisions. A century of tradition will no longer be wiped out by one bad season. The demotion system has encouraged Hack And Slash Soccer, and Safety Soccer, the most boring display of atrophied human spectacle known across the multiverse.

14. Divisional Conferences around Britain will replace the league tables of old. These Conferences will produce their own champions who will play at year's end for the highest and most prestigious titles.

15. The culture of expansive flowing creative life affirming football will be encouraged.

16. There will be zero tolerance for crowd violence.

17. There will be a modest assured income for players and management with clubs operating like families. Not mafia families. Just families.

18. Clubs will no longer operate like corrupt banks or stock exchange companies. Clubs will only pay money in salaries that they are receiving in revenues. Loans from corrupt banks or stock exchange companies will not count as revenues.

19. Thuggery will not be tolerated in any aspect of the beautiful game.

20. The alternative to these initiatives is for association football/soccer to cease to exist as a vehicle for mass entertainment anywhere on earth.

hammer time

people of the lie

Patsy McGarry, styling himself Religious Affairs Correspondent of the Irish Times, has given another sublime demonstration in the art of synchronised mendacity.
McGarry was reporting a speech by the President of Ireland Mary MacAleese.
Mary McAleese had asserted that sex abuse was not a problem that arose primarily in Irish families or within the Catholic church.
Mary McAleese insisted that sex abuse affected all cultures and was broadly spread throughout every society.
I am no friend of Mary MacAleese's.
Her bodyguards are thugs.
Particularly the bald half wit with the infantile grinny face.
Pure lowlife.
And she herself is a wearisome Northern Ireland biddy who occasionally likes to pose Catholic in the futherance of her own career.
But her statement last week was clear and honorable enough.
She's obviously been reading The Heelers Diaries again.
She was warning, albeit belatedly, against the media's attempts to depict sex abuse as something arising solely in the Catholic Church.
Her statement could not be misunderstood.
But it could be deliberately misconstrued.
The duplicitous Patsy McGarry in his report pretended to believe she had issued her statement not as a criticism of the media but as a criticism of the same Catholic Church she had just clearly stated was not the primary locus for sex abuse.
McGarry took Mary MacAleese's clear and unquivocal reference to inaccurate media representations of sex abuse, and turned it on its head.
He wilfully pretended to believe she was not directing her words towards the media at all.
He reported that her statement was "apparently" a criticism of the Catholic church.

The motto of the Irish Times is: If you're going to tell a lie, tell a big one.

"Apparently" Patsy McGarry is their Liar In Chief.

lady hamilton's pussy

James Hamilton is the Director of Public Prosecutions in Ireland.
He holds the highest legal position in the State with reponsibility for pursuing criminals.
It's a bit of a joke.
But those are his formal titles and his formal responsibilities.
This week he spoke out in the media accusing Irish people of holding twisted views regarding rape.
He suggested that there was a tendency among many Irish people to sympathise with the rapist rather than the victim.
He based this lie on an untypical incident in a Kerry town where several people in a courtroom stood up and shook hands with a man who had just been convicted of rape.
Most of the people were relatives of the convicted man.
The media claimed fifty people shook the convicted man's hand.
The real figure was substantially less.
Their behaviour was not representative of any attitude held by the general public.
I would point out that this case is in no way indicative of Irish people's views on rape or on anything else.
It is in no way relevant to our concerns about the general breakdown of law and order in our country.
It is in no way a fair insight into the attitudes and behaviour of the general public with regard to any victim of any crime.
The handful of people in the Kerry courtroom represented only themselves.
Now I would question Hamilton's motivation in attempting to focus attention on the incident.
I suggest the following.
Hamilton cited this incident solely in order to distract attention from profound public concerns surrounding the failure of Hamilton himself and his liberal atheistic colleagues in the legal profession to do anything about the mayhem of violence, drug use, rape, child abuse, police corruption and murder currently engulfing our country.
Hamilton is attempting to allay concerns about the corruption of our legal professionals, judiciary and police by putting the whole bloody country on trial for the newly manufactured crime of NOT HOLDING VIEWS ABOUT RAPE THAT ARE CONSIDERED APPROPRIATE BY JAMES HAMILTON.
The charge is a nonsense.
But the punishment is the process.
By making this the issue, Hamilton gets himself and his liberal atheistic friends off the hook.
It's the perfect blagg.

Irish people have become profoundly disaffected with the legal profession, the Judges, the police and in particular with Mr James Hamilton the Director of Public Prosecutions.
Our concern stems from, among other things, a practice in Hamilton's office of accepting that a man can plunge a knife into another man's heart and that Hamilton time and time again will then charge the stabbing murderer with something Hamilton calls manslaughter.
Here is the news.
Anyone sticking a knife into anyone else is committing murder.
There is no such thing as manslaughter with a knife.
There's no such thing as diminished repsonsibility.
Those are the inventions of mafiosi lawyers and liberals, devised with the sole intention of letting murderers go.
It's murder.
Every time.
Unless the person on the receiving end is a burglar breaking into a house.
Then the courts and the liberals need to mind their own business.
That's what Irish people know.
Not think.
Know.
Ditto for hitting a human being over the head with a hammer.
Murder every time.
Again, except when the human being is a burglar breaking into someone's house.
Then it's not murder.
It's not even manslaughter.
Then it's self defence.
Every time.
Including the death of burglar Frog Ward where Hamilton's office pressed charges against the householder and got him convicted and locked up in jail for years for defending himself.
Oh they'll take action in those circumstances alright.
The unutterable clowns.

But the preferance in Hamilton's office for referring to murder as manslaughter, unless using such an incident to convict citizens who defend their properties, this preference is only the thin end of the wedge when it comes to public concerns about Hamilton and his colleagues' arrogant puerile incompetence.
Nurse Mulholland was killing people in Naas hospital.
Hamilton's office charged her with assault.
Assault.
I kid you not.
Malcolm McArthur committed two murders decades ago. He was found hiding in the Attorney General's apartment. (The Attorney General being the senior legal advisor to the government of the now deceased kleptocratic Fianna Fail Prime Minister Charlie Haughey.)
McArthur was only charged with one murder. Never charged with the second one. Someone didn't want any further embarassment for the political class. So no justice for the second family or for the Irish people who do not wish to see murderers let off through the sins of omission of the Department of Public Prosecutions.
The failure to charge McArthur with his second murder is of course a crime that dwarfs the political incorrectness of the Kerry small towners shaking the hand of a man convicted of rape.
And so we go on.
We've had two babies murdered already this year by their parents. Two that we know of.
Six people killed by gangsters.
Hamilton's office has issued no charge in any of these cases.
A police officer Superintendent Mick Shitehawk has announced that he will be handling the death of the baby in Mayo "sensitively."
If I know anything, that means a get out of jail free card for the Mayo baby's murdering parents.
Well done Mick Shitehawk.
Whose laws are you upholding?
Mr Sensitive.
Nice bit of feminism there.
Real groooooovy baby.
Although not so groovy for the murdered babies.
They're dead.
And no one will answer for killing them.
More to follow.
Hopefully they'll assign you to the case of the baby who was murdered in Lusk as well.
They're only babies after all eh Mick.
And to the one killed up in Sligo late last year.
Ah yes.
Another one bites the dust.
The Department of Public Prosecutions hasn't charged anyone with murder there either.
Nor will they.
Another One Bites The Dust, indeed.
That song should be the motto of James Hamilton's Department of Public Prosecutions.
And lo!
Even the police officer who was accessing child pornography in Garda Head Quarters on Harcourt Street a decade ago, even that child abuser, has never faced a charge from the Department of Public Prosecutions.
By the way, it took a year and a half before the Department of Public Prosecutions bothered to inform the public that no charge was going to be levelled against the Harcourt Street Garda child abuser whatsoever.
Nine years on and still no action in that case.
And the Judge who was caught accessing child pornography got away with it because the police mysteriously and mercifully and inexplicably enacted a search warrant on him a day after the warrant had expired, and another Judge Liberal then decided that the lateness of execution of the warrant meant Judge Child Abuser couldn't be held accountable in court.
Lovely lovely people.
And James Hamilton thinks we should all be worrying about the attitude to rape of a dozen Kerry men.
My God.
This is evil.
Time and time again when a murder or rape or assault is committed, we are told by the police that: "A file is being prepared for the DPP."
DPP is the acronym for Hamilton's office.
While the police are preparing such files, they release the murderers, rapists and assaulters into the community.
It is a bastard system.
It's a system run by bastards.
For bastards.
By the bastards, of the bastards, for the bastards.
But I digress.
The Irish people are merely the victims.
We exist to serve the whims of our liberal atheistic legalistic rulers.
This is what Irish people are concerned about.
This is the threat to our society.
This is the quintessence of Hamilton's malign hypocrisy.

And finally Esther.
And finally.
And most grievously.
James Hamilton's office has done nothing for a woman who as a child was sexually abused by her devil worshiping parents in the village of Dalkey.
Her parents were part of a devil worship ring operating in the Dublin area.
The woman while a little girl was prostituted by her father who offered her for the use of other members of the devil worship ring.
At the age of 11 while still a little girl, she gave birth to a baby.
The baby was murdered with a knitting needle in sacrifice to satan.
The body of the baby was found in 1973 and given to the police but inexplicably not retained by them.
(The body was found by a little boy who in adult life became Irish language editor with the Irish Times.)
The murderer was the grandmother of the baby, ie the mother of the little girl who gave birth to the baby.
But all involved with the devil worship ring were guilty of the baby's murder.
Bear in mind that the 11 year old girl wished to protect her child.
Even in the midst of her torture, she still wanted to save her baby's life.
Her spirit is the only trace of humanity I see in all this darkness.
A second baby born to the little girl after satanic sex abuse rituals was also butchered.
The little girl sought to save her second baby also.
This love of the little girl for her two babies is the clearest and most beautiful proof that the satanists had failed completely to harm the soul of the little girl while they sought to desecrate her body.
They could not make her one of them.
At least three police officers, members of An Garda Siochana, are believed to have been a part of the devil worship ring in Dalkey.
Other members of the moth eaten free masonic bastardy that passes for high society in Ireland, may also have been involved.
This is a case Hamilton where not only must justice be done, but justice must be seen to be done.
I want to know why you have done nothing.
The woman's father has escaped justice by dying two years ago.
Now listen to me Hamilton.
You need to help that woman.
You need to repent of every wrong doing you've done in your blighted atheistic life.
If you're one of them, you need to stop being one of them.
You need to confess your sins to a priest.
And then you need to help that woman Hamilton.
You need to go in to bat for her.
You need to move heaven and earth for her.
You need to pursue her abusers and all other members of the Dalkey devil worship ring with extreme prejudice.
You need to.
You need to.
You need to do it now.
You useless corrupt incompetent swine.

prayer on martin luther king day

lord may your peace be in the world

lord may your peace be in our hearts

lord may we be your peace in the world

the winter of my discombobulation

Afternoon at the Riverbank cafe in the town of Newbridge.

Sexicia Du Bois, long haired and lissom limbed, sitting at a corner table.

It is not at all impossible that she is smiling slow and sad at me across the room.

The ghost of John Keats appears at my shoulder.

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever Heelers," he murmurs sagely.

There is a moment's pause.

"Rubbish Keatsy," I harrumph. "A thing of beauty is infinitely depressing."