The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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

Saturday, February 06, 2010


Standing in front of the Royal Palace in Madrid.
Winter coldness.
The afternoon crowd of tourists milling in the park.
Clear light cascading over everything.
A man says: "Excuse me."
He has a weathered sun burnt continental face.
Laughter lines around the eyes.
He is proffering a photograph.
Probably a nuisance vendor or a pick pocket or both.
I move to hurry away.
He says: "Wait, please, it's okay."
I wait.
"I am from Greece," he says with an air of triumph.
He indicates the photograph in his hand.
The photograph shows a good looking young couple standing in front of the royal palace.
I don't recognise them but I know they're in love.
"This is me and my wife," explains the man beaming. "We were on our honeymoon here in Madrid 25 years ago. Today is the 25th anniversary of our wedding."
For the first time I notice a middle aged woman standing smiling behind him.
"We have come back to Madrid to celebrate our 25 years," the man says: "Will you take our photo today?"
He gives me a camera.
They pose just as they had posed on this very date a quarter of a century ago.
Still triumphantly, beamingly, Greekily, in love.
I take their photo.

Friday, February 05, 2010



a lady rebukes the knight for leaving her

alone run to the hills and fight forever
a brow as stern as iron smitten red
your company the fighters and the dead
a heart like winter and winter is forever
the law of battles your only rule
to fight is to live your only creed
the wrinkles and lines are turned and cruel
but is it not true that warriors also bleed
and feel a sadness when the wind blows warm
children's melodies from the villages below
and feel a softness in place of the storm
when battle's won and the heart is low
and there's time to think of the pain of steel
of the loss of light and the last meal
is it not true that warriors also bleed she groaned
or is it forever you must walk alone

a quiet interlude

Coffee with The Perfect Fit in the Insomnia Cafe near Trinity College.
"I hate this place," sighs The Perfect Fit.
My handsome features break into a broad grin, making them even more handsome than before if that were possible.
"Oh come on," sez I. "There's great atmosphere. All those young Trinners types pseuding around. Comfortable chairs. Muffins. Me. Admit it. You love it."
The Perfect Fit shook her head.
"No," she insisted. "I hate it. I don't understand why you insist on coming here."
My famous broad grin flashed again.
"Look around you," I tell her. "There's not one waiter here thinking of self detonating in the name of Jihad. Not one of them considering jumping up on the tables, shouting Allah U Akbar, and shooting us for being infidels. Not one of them I recognise from a fecking Muslim street gang patrolling the thoroughfares outside. That's gotta count for something."
The Perfect Fit shook her hispanic head and looked ever more glum.
Her phone rang.
She chattered briefly in some language I didn't recognise.
Possibly Spanish.
"That was Julio," she explained when she'd finished.
"What did he want?" quoth me.
"He wanted me to come meet him," answered she.
"Well off you go," sez me.
"No, I told him I was with you," proclaimed she.
"What did he say?" wondered me.
"He hung up," quoth she.
The noble Heelers gentle preraphaelite undeniably grinny features looked briefly as though they might never grin again.
"Woman are you mad?" expostulated me. "He's Spanish. Hot blood. You know how nuts the Spanish are. You're one of them. You don't want him to think there's anything going on with us. He might kill me."
"I'm willing to take that chance," purred the Perfect Fit.
"I'm not," I mouthed bitterly.
"Oh go on, he's not jealous of you," said she.
"He hung up, didn't he?" muttered me.
"Yes but that's nothing to do with you," chirruped she maddeningly.
Ireland's greatest living poet looked wildly around the cafe.
"He'll probably come bursting in here at any moment," sez me. "He'll let a shout of Bastardo, I will fight you for her honour. And I'll reply: No, but I'll willingly run away from you for her honour if that will do."
Outside on the streets the first light of Spring was breaking through the Jihadis.
We finished our coffees and exited.
Into the mists of time and fantasy.

the monica leech laugh in

Driving home from Dublin.
I see a van pull out of the old Johnston Press owned Leinster Leader print works.
The van shows no signs of the Leinster Leader logo.
Instead it has been painted with the livery: Naas Printing Ltd.
Well, well, well.
A little rebranding.
You know what folks.
Even if you change his name from Tibby to Tiddles, a one bollocked cat is still a one bollocked cat.

who closed carluccios

Carluccios cafe on Dawson Street in Dublin has closed.
I know why.
I went in there a few months ago with Giovanna.
It was a moderately well run place in the Italian style.
Interesting food.
Passable ambience.
Only one small drawback.
A little thing.
A trifle.
Hardly worth mentioning.
After five minutes I had spotted at least three members of staff whom I recognised from the Black Jackets Muslim crime gang.
The Black Jackets currently control Grafton Street and other city centre locations through an array of sign holders who stand on the pavement from dawn to dusk.
The sign holders are pretending to advertise businesses located nearby.
In actuality holding their signs allows them to monitor the street and carry on their dealing and enforcement activities in plain view.
No less than three of them were working in Carluccios.
No business on earth can keep its clientele with three Muslim gang members on its wait staff.
That's why Carluccios has closed.
The owners say they're closing because of high overheads, rates and rent.
Rates and rent in Dublin are foolishly high.
But I say it again.
I have been in Carluccios once and would never go back because I saw three gang members on the staff who had previously hassled me in the streets.
I've been hassled by this gang up and down for the past nine years after complaining about a Muslim waiter called Amhrasser in Bewleys Cafe.
I kid you not.
I've been reluctant to avoid Grafton Street though.
I don't want the Muslims to get confused.
They might start thinking they own the place.
Over the years I've recognised other Black Jackets working in city centre cafes.
Terrorism and waitressing seems to be their major calling in life.
A Pakistani member of the Black Jackets has been appointed manager in the Kylemore Food Court at the Stephens Green Centre. His male friend who wears the improbable name tag Vicky is another Black Jacket and is also employed at the Food Court.
I don't ID them lightly.
Only when I know it's them do I point out who and what they are.
Muslim street thugs.
Dim lights.
And not invisible.
Do not be surprised when the Kylemore Food Court goes out of business like Carluccios.
The Black Jackets use another Kylemore Cafe, the one on O'Connell Street, as a meeting place. They coordinate their daily activities from there at window tables in view of the Spire monument outside. Security staff at the Kylemore turn a blind eye to them.
There are two Black Jackets working as trainees in the Costa Cafe on Dawson Street.
They use fake names.
Alejandro is one of them.
Ha, ha, ha.
His real name is Mohamed Al Psycho Al Rude Waiter Al Bashir.
Alejandro indeed.
The Costa on Dawson Street will be scratching their heads about a mysterious down turn in business right up until the moment they go crash bang wallop bust.
Another Black Jacket works in the Westbury Hotel.
Black Jackets work in security at both the Stephens Green Centre and in the Ilac Centre on Henry Street and at takeaways, pharmacies and businesses all along Grafton Street.
A veritable menagerie of Muslim Black Jacket gang members work at Bewleys cafe on Grafton Street.
Bewleys is like the elephant's graveyard for Arab and African Muslim street thugs.
Bewleys went bust a few years ago because of its policy of employing gang members.
Some idiot journalists in the Irish Times prevailed upon our corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government to throw tax payers money at Bewleys in order to help keep Arab and African Muslim gang members working as rude waiters in the style to which they have become accustomed.
Bewleys is open again.
I'd wager not for long.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

sweetest hour


the wakening silence

a woman sleeping
i watch her face
i've looked in half the world
and have not found such peace
as in it now
faint smile or sorrow
lights upon her lips
from the corner of her brow
a momentary flutter lifts
the wandering shadows
from her wakening eyes
a traveller returns
briefly we recognise
in the silence of our dawn
another silver universe being born

and now this (by Irina Kuksova)

His Holiness meets His Healyness.

independent newspapers persecution of the catholic church

On Wednesday the Irish Independent newspaper reported from the trial of a priest who sexually molested an altar boy.
The abuse allegations were largely unspecified.
That is to say, the Irish Independent didn't specify with their normal lurid detail exactly what the priest had done.
The case was over twenty years old.
It was only just coming to court now.
The culprit had been on the run for more than a decade in England.
The Irish police obviously had some explaining to do themselves as to why they apparantly took no action to apprehend or extradite a sex abuser whose case was known to them and whose rough location was known to them for fourteen years.
The Irish Independent made great play in interpreting a statement by a Garda police officer on the witness stand to suggest that the Catholic church had somehow obstructed the investigation.
The Irish Independent report noted that the police officer had said he ran into "a wall of sand" when seeking information about the whereabouts of the priest from the Irish Catholic church.
This is not rocket science.
I am a failed provincial journalist and even I knew that the propagator of this statement needed to be subjected to proper cross examination.
Because there was a strong motivation for him to lie.
This statement is what we might call a leading statement.
It ascribes huge criminality in a seemingly throwaway line.
And the person saying it has a clear motive to ascribe criminality because he may not have a reasonable explanation for Garda inactivity on the case over the fourteen years the abuser was on the run in England.
Neither the Judge in court, nor the Irish Independent in its report, troubled to pose any serious questions about the Garda's casual ascription of limitless blame to the Catholic church in the matter of the police failure to take action against the abuser for fourteen years.
There are some very important questions to ask.
Namely these...

(1) Over the fourteen years how many times did the Irish police force An Garda Siochana seek to establish the whereabouts of the abuser who was on the run in England?
(2) Who exactly did the Garda Siochana question within the Irish Catholic Church about the location of the abuser in England?
(3) How many times over the fourteen years did the Garda Siochana seek information from the Irish Catholic Church about the location of an abuser on the run in England?
(4) Was the abuser known to be staying in a Catholic run residence?
(5) Why was action not taken to extradite him?
(6) What evidence has the Garda Siochana and this Garda witness in particular, that high officials within the Irish Catholic Church knew of the whereabouts of the abuser on the run in England?
(7) Why have the Garda Siochana not named the people within the Irish Catholic Church whom they are seeking to callumniate by alleging they "built a wall of sand" in front of a Garda investigation.
(8) Did the Garda Siochana approach any senior officials in the ENGLISH Catholic Church about an abusing priest thought to be on the run in England for fourteen years?
(9) If not why not?
(10) Did the Garda Siochana seek assistance from any ENGLISH police authorities in apprehending the abuser known to be on the run in England for fourteen years?
(11) If not why not?
(12) Exactly how many Garda man hours were logged to the investigation of this abuser during his fourteen years in England?
(13) What were the Irish police doing precisely, what procedures were they conducting, when and if they logged man hours to this investigation?
(14) Did they actually record any man hours on the investigation?
(15) Was the investigation simply left in abeyance for fourteen years after the abuser absconded from Ireland?
(16) How could Irish police spend fourteen years claiming they weren't taking any action against a child abuser who had been reported to them and who they knew to be living in England simply because the Irish Catholic Church didn't possess his forwarding address?
Are there any records relating to this investigation that the public can access?
(17) Were any man hours actually logged to the investigation?
(18) Is the Irish police force seeking to conceal its own inaction in pursuit of a sex abuser who had been reported to it, by ascribing guilt through inuendo to the Catholic Church for the failure of the police to take action.
(19) Why did the Judge commend the police officer in the court room when for more than a decade the police appear to have simply done nothing?

(20) Why did the Judge in the court room and afterwards Independent Newspapers in its report fail to ask any of these questions?

I have pointed out that in Ireland the major media groups Independent Newspapers, the Irish Times and RTE, have committed the worst crimes of which they accuse any Bishop.
They have concealed sex abuse.
They have failed to make clear to the public that 99.99 percent of sex abuse cases occur in the family home, in schools, in sports clubs, in paedophile rings, and at the hands of people who can in no way be linked to the Catholic Church.
Independent Newspapers, the Irish Times and RTE, working as the mouthpieces of shadowy forces within our judiciary, our civil service and our government, are seeking to destroy the Catholic Church so that they themselves can remake Ireland as a social dictatorship.
They have no real concern for sex abuse victims.
They ignore 99.99 percent of victims.
Sex Abuse is merely a Trojan Horse for them in their persecution and attempted vitiation of the Catholic Church.

As for the police.
I note the lack of any ongoing or far reaching Garda investigation into the murderous child abusing devil worship ring known to have operated in the Dublin village of Dalkey from at least the 1970's.
An eleven year old girl was impregnated by the ring of which her parents were a part.
The satanists murdered her baby.
The body of this baby was recovered by the police and inexplicably disposed of by them rather than being retained for evidence.
In adult life the eleven year old girl has emerged to tell her story.
Most notably to Nicola Tallant in the Sunday World. (Which is part of the Independent Newspapers group.)
She maintains that she was impregnated a second time by the satanists and that her second baby was also sacrificed to satan.
She says three members of An Garda Siochana were members of the devil worship ring.

For this reason and for reasons of basic natural justice, I would point out again that in a court of law where a sex abuse allegation is being investigated, in a case where there has been apparent Garda inaction for fourteen years in spite of the victim's family contacting the police and asking them to pursue the case, in circumstances like these, we really should not allow to go unquestioned any generalised unspecific nebulous claim from an investigating Garda that the church somehow stopped him taking action against an abuser who fled Ireland and was permitted to live without any police attention whatsoever in England for fourteen years. Wall of sand indeed.

Footnote: In the above mentioned court report, the Irish Independent did express praise for no less a personage than Archbishop Diarmuid Martin for establishing a child protection office in his area of responsibility. From this office the Irish Independent suggested the police finally received a tip off as to the whereabouts of the abuser in England. In the Irish Times reportage of the same case (which at least made clear when the offences happened, namely between 1979 and 1983, a full 27 years ago), there was no praise given to Archbishop Diarmuid Martin. My own analysis is that journalistic and judicial compliments directed towards Archbishop Diarmuid Martin are more about discrediting his predecessors than anything else. The media are engaged in a persecution of the church. But the persecutors aren't stupid. And they're awfully, awfully, fond of Archbishop Diarmuid Martin. The share price of Independent Newspapers is ten cents. The net indebtedness of Independent Newspapers is something around the thousand five hundred million mark. That's 1.5 billion dollars. Independent Newspapers is sinking giggling beneath the waves, still spouting the same anti Catholic claptrap that bankrupted it over the past thirty years. They don't know any other songs.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010


Bushy at the bird table.


air borne insects hum
homeward go they homeless
and propose this street lamp or that car light
as the all important centre of the universe
purposeless they try again
to divine transcendent purpose
the light that animates their bodies
shines from the centre of the universe

in the valley of stillness

It was the dulcet Autumn of 1974.
The gypsies had arrived in Logstown.
Their painted caravans occupied a traditional spot used by travelling people for generations on the road out of town.
Our house was within view of it.
I had just read an Enid Blyton book.
In the book some children styling themselves the Famous Five had made friends with a gypsy styling herself Ragamuffin Jo.
I thought this was the way the world worked.
With all the optimism of an eight year old boy, I wandered down to the gypsy camp at twilight.
There was a campfire smouldering.
I entered the camp and stood by the fire.
Not a sign of life.
And the oddest feeling I was being watched.
Six alsations emerged from various places beneath the painted caravans.
There were definitely six.
I did have time to count them and to be sure.
They barked growled circled.
They were on long chains which tangled and tinkled as they vied for position.
I had just watched a television programme called Daktari where a boy was able to communicate with dogs by making dog sounds.
I thought this too was the way the world worked.
I tried barking back at the alsations.
Just a few conversational barks to begin with.
Then I went down on my hunkers and made whining sounds.
Then I walked swiftly from the camp.
The dogs watched me in some stupefaction.
I never went back.
Around about this time I began to suspect Enid Blyton was trying to kill me.

waiter there's a muslim in my soup and he looks like he's about to self detonate

When the Muslims came to slaughter Dutch film maker Theo Van Gogh, I did not speak out because I wasn't a Dutch film maker.
When the Muslims came to slaughter Dutch Prime Minister Pym Fortyn, I did not speak out because I wasn't a Dutch Prime Minister.
When the Dutch government sought to criminalise the country's most popular political leader Gert Wilders for his political platform advocating an end to Muslim immigration, I did not speak out because I was not Gert Wilders.
When the Dutch government expelled Ayaan Hirsan Ali a Dutch parliamentarian brought up as a Muslim in Somalia, who had criticised the excesses of Muslim culture, I did not speak out because who am I to prevent the Dutch liberal left wing pseudo elites from destroying their own country.
When the Muslims inflicted constant wars and slaughters on Israel as an attempt to cancel out the catastrophic cultural instabilities within their own societies by distracting their own citizenry with a permanent jihad they can never win, I did not speak out because I'd been listening to John Ging the UN viceroy of Gaza and sundry other deluded appeaserish half wits accusing the Israelis of war crimes.
When the Muslims slaughtered 3000 people in New York on Nine Eleven, I did not speak out because I was a left wing anti American.
When a Muslim infiltrator called Hassan Malik murdered over a dozen troops and an unborn baby at Fort Hood army base, I did not speak out against the policy of letting Muslims join our armies, because I didn't want to be ungroovy.
When the Muslims slaughtered fifty people in the streets of London I did not speak out because I rarely visit London.
When the Muslims slaughtered 200 people on trains in Madrid, I did not speak out because I don't want to run the risk of being accused of saying something racist.
When the Muslims attempted to poison Rome's water supply, I did not speak out because I was too busy considering accusations of war crimes against the British and the Americans, accusations which were being actively marketed by the BBC, ITV, Channel Four, Sky News, CNN, the Guardian, et al. Particularly al. The little swine.
When the Muslims came to stab the Mayor of Paris, I did not speak out because I didn't really like the Mayor of Paris.
When the major advertiser at Sky News was revealed to be the same financier behind Al Jazeera the Muslim Nazi channel, to wit the Royal Family of Qatar, I did not speak out because I recognised this thing is slipping away.
When the Muslims torched the suburbs of Paris, Marseilles, and all the rest, I did not speak out because I was starting to get a little scared.
When the Muslims tried to silence Mark Steyn in Canada with a human rights kangaroo court law suit, I did not speak out, although it was refreshing to see the Mussies getting their arses kicked, even if media groups in Europe simply ignored the case.
When Barack Obama began releasing Muslim Al Qaeda terrorists from Guantanamo Bay, and sent two of the bast--ds to Ireland, I did not speak out because frankly I was too stunned for words.
When the Muslims beat a 19 year old Irish person to death with a baseball bat on Grafton Street, in Dublin, Ireland, I did not speak out because, oh why not let them have Grafton Street.
When the Muslims who beat a 19 year old Irish person to death on Grafton Street were acquited of murder by Judge Liberal, having found other Muslims to claim in court that the 19 year old Irish person had made racist remarks to them, I did not speak out even though I realised Judge Liberal had just accorded Muslims the right to beat people to death with baseball bats whom the Muslims say are making racial remarks at them.
When the Muslims launched separatist wars in countries that had allowed them to immigrate, namely Serbia, Cyprus, Thailand, the Philippines, India, China and Russia, I did not speak out because wotchya gonna do.
When a Muslim terror army menaced the world, I pretended it wasn't happening and instead watched Michael Moore films, voted for Barack Hussein Obama, called for repeated frivolous legal enquiries into the Iraq War in order to criminalise President Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair, took refuge in the luxuriant anti Americanism of Time Magazine and Newsweek and The New York Times and The Washington Post and the Times of London and The Guardian and The Irish Times and Le Monde and ABC and NBC and CBS and the BBC in fact every deadbeat readerless viewerless well nigh defunct media group on the planet earth, and surrendered myself to black Islamic night.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

on manoeuvres with the irish army

The plains of Kildare.
A cold February wind gusts through the hedgerows.
A slew of army vehicles, armoured personnel carriers, jeeps and the odd innocent looking tank are careening around.
On the edge of a hill, Brigadier Berrigan and some fresh faced recruits are crowded around a map table.
Occasional droplets of rain spatter the map.
"Now then," barks the Brigadier all business like. "Young Flynn, tell me what you'd do in the event of an invasion of Ireland."
Flynn's innocent boyish features crinkled confusedly.
In the film version you get the feeling, he won't last long.
"I can't imagine anyone invading Ireland Sir," he ventured. "I mean how could such a thing possibly happen?"
The Brigadier sighed.
"Alright," he said. "Imagine this. Al Qaeda suddenly activates a terror army which it has already infiltrated into Ireland. There are assassinations. Riots. Arson in the suburbs. Bombs are detonating in city centre locations. There is blood in the streets. The Muslims are attempting to secede a selected region with a large Muslim immigrant population from the rest of Ireland. The same way they did in Cyprus, Serbia, the Phillipines, Thailand, China, Russia and India. What do you do? What... do... you... do?"
There was an awkward silence.
Private O'Wienerschnitzel raised a sheepish hand.
"Yes O'Wienerschnitzel," growled the Brigadier.
"We could all sue the State for deafness," he chirruped. "You know. With all the bombs going off. Our hearing is bound to be affected. Remember we did it before. Judge Liberal forced the Irish tax payer to give us all free money. We could do it again. That means everyone would benefit from the invasion. At least the invaders would. And, er, us."
The Brigadier put his head in his hands.
Another young talent leapt forward.
"Now you're talking," cried Private Kelly. "And we could put in for danger money. And maybe take additional law suits for stress and anxiety. We've done that before too."
The Brigadier stared into the middle distance.
These answers were not what he was hoping for.
Private Sherridan spoke up.
"I've an idea," he enthused. "We could deploy our forces to Lebanon and run pass defence for the Iranian backed terror army Hezbollah in its attempts to destroy the State of Israel. We could do this while posing as strictly neutral peace keepers. And we could deploy any spare units to Chad and Sudan to help uphold the Islamist Sudanese governments genocide against the Darfuran people. We've had plenty of practice by Jove. And in going to Chad we'll also be doing our bit to prop up French influence in Africa. There's a noble cause worth dying for. Sacre Bleu. At the same time we can make clear that we're going to continue to play absolutely no role in the War On Terror. Let the Mussies know we're their friends. Maybe then when Al Qaeda actually takes over Ireland, they'll let us keep our nice cars and houses and silly money pay packets."
Brigadier Berrigan smiled bitterly.
He was in many ways a true soldier.
Rough as a badger's arse but possessed of a genuine intellect and not a little love for Ireland.
Unlike these others, he knew the simple truth.
People who are unwilling to defend their countries, lose them.

Monday, February 01, 2010

moment of clarity

It's sobering.
Personally I would have preferred to stay silent.
How could I dare to suggest that Judge Yvonne Murphy's report into the Catholic Church's handling of sex abuse cases was a crock?
How could I dare to suggest that Archbishop Diarmuid Martin was corruptly in collusion with media elements wishing to destroy the church?
How could I dare to suggest that Cardinal Sean Brady was failing in his duty to defend his brother Bishops simply because he wants to be liked?
How could I dare to suggest that the Irish Times, Independent Newspapers, the broadcaster RTE, and The Daily Mail, are all of them lying, all of them cravens, all of them utterly completely and opprobriously vile in their manipulation of Yvonne Murphy's report in order to falsely label decent honorable heroic Bishops as concealers of child abuse?
How could I dare to presume that I had a right to oppose wrong doing perpetrated by such seemingly invincible figures, multi million dollar media groups, along with an Archbishop, a Cardinal and sundry Judges?
How could I dare to fight them?
How could I dare to risk being wrong?
How could any of us dare?
The Lutheran Pastor Richard Wurmbrand, himself no friend of Catholics, describes the following scene.
Once the communists came to power in Romania, they skilfully used the means of seduction towards the Church. The language of love and the language of seduction is the same. The one who wishes a girl for a wife and the one who wishes her for a night in order to throw her away afterwards, both say, "I love you." Jesus has told us to distinguish the language of seduction from the language of love, and to tell the wolves clad in sheepskin from the real sheep.
When the communists came to power, thousands of priests, pastors, and ministers did not know how to distinguish the two voices.
The communists convened a congress of all Christian bodies in our parliament building. There were four thousand priests, pastors, and ministers of all denominations. These four thousand priests and pastors chose Joseph Stalin as honorary president of this congress. At the same time he was president of the World Movement of the Godless and a mass murderer of Christians. One after the other, bishops and pastors arose in our parliament building and declared that communism and Christianity are fundamentally the same and could co-exist. One minister after another said words of praise towards communism and assured the new government of the loyalty of the Church.
My wife and I were present at this congress.
My wife sat near me and told me: "Richard, stand up and wash away this shame from the face of Christ! They are spitting into His face."
I said to my wife: "If I do so, you lose your husband."
She said: "I don't wish to have a coward as husband."

the lying persecutors of the ancient church

The Irish Times had one purpose and one purpose only in publishing a gerrymandered survey claiming sixty percent of the general public want the church to be prevented from taking any role in the education of our children.
Listen folks.
When was the last time that sixty percent of the Irish people agreed with the Irish Times about anything?
The Irish Times returned losses of a hundred million dollars last year.
That's after the usual accountancy tricks to conceal their real losses.
They've got no mandate.
And when was the last time the Irish Times was right about something?
Remember the lies they propagated in the past.
The Irish Times spent the Cold War telling us Russian Communism represented the scientifically inevitable progression of human society.
Chief among those perpetrating that particular lie, was Seamus Martin, the pro Soviet Irish Times political editor whose brother just happens to be Archbishop Diarmuid Martin.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin... he who is so keen to throw his brother Bishops to the wolves at the merest hint of innuendo from the Irish Times and or Judge Yvonne Murphy.
The Irish Times spent the Gulf War (the one following Iraq's invasion of Kuwait in 1990) telling us the Iraqi people would fight to the last man against the Americans to keep Kuwait.
The great Maggie O'Kane claimed to have interviewed "a gentle Iraqi man who breeds budgies." She claimed the gentle budgie breeder told her: "I will strangle George Bush with my bare hands."
And then the Americans went in and Saddam Hussein's invincible army of gentle Muslim warrior budgie breeders... ran away.
In the initial aftermath of Iraq's invasion of Kuwait, Sean Cronin of the Irish Times announced: "There is no Kuwait on my hundred year old map of the world."
He accepted the annexation of a peaceful country.
Not only did he accept it.
He championed it.
He applauded it.
In the pages of the Irish Times.
My God.
These people have no shame.
A lot of independent countries that weren't on Sean Cronin's map would be under the shadow of the scythe if Sean Cronin's twisted views were to prevail.
Including one called Ireland which was part of the United Kingdom at the time Cronin's map was made.
And that's where the Irish Times comes in again.
The Irish Times has no loyalty to this country.
The Irish Times has no appreciation of the Catholic traditions which have ensured our survival as a nation for 1500 years.
A few weeks ago the Irish Times printed an article by a failed politician called John Bruton.
John Bruton once led a party in Ireland called Fine Gael which my family had traditionally supported.
Fine Gael had a reputation for being marginally less corrupt than Fianna Fail.
John Bruton claimed in his recent Irish Times article that the nation State had failed humanity and that from here on in, countries would be run by supra national committees, appointed by bodies such as the United Nations or the European parliament.
Of course we should remember that John Bruton was abysmally unpopular and led Fine Gael to historic defeats at the hands of the Irish electorate.
He was the man who would be king.
Now having increasingly edged out its Christian members, Fine Gael is contemplating life with a couple of dozen seats.
I guess the people let John Bruton down.
I guess the people let Fine Gael down.
I guess the people let the Irish Times down.
It wasn't a big jump for John Bruton to abandon the whole idea of democracy.
But the rest of us might want to think twice about it.
John Bruton doesn't believe clever fellows like himself should be at the mercy of the electoral whims of the proletariat.
The Irish Times believes the same.
For over forty years the Irish Times has published opinion polls suggesting Irish people want legalised abortion.
Every time we hold a referendum on abortion, the people roundly reject it.
The Irish Times has been more successful with its falsified polls on divorce legislation.
These polls were contrived in order to provoke our weak corrupt governments into holding two referendums on divorce.
The first referendum proved yet again that the Irish Times opinion polls had been arrantly falsified.
The people roundly rejected divorce with the right to remarry.
We took the tough decision, to uphold our existing laws, where divorce existed but did not include the right to remarry.
We did this because we had seen what the sexual revolution and divorce culture had done to family life in other countries.
Immediately after the vote, Jean Tansey of the Irish Times was facilitated by the national broadcaster RTE in going on air to tell the Irish people: "You've disgraced yourselves again."
Jean Tansey was also a leading member of an organisation styling itself Divorce Action Group.
Funny old world.
So the people rejected divorce for the reasons I've stated.
But that didn't stop the Irish Times.
It never does.
With their gerrymandered opinion polls and their allies in the judiciary and RTE, they once more compelled the government to hold a referndum which nobody wanted.
And Ireland finally voted for divorce.
The margin of victory was 0.1 percent or some such.
Improbable in all respects.
And nothing near the thumping majority predicted in the Irish Times fake opinion polls.
The Irish Times and Jean Tansey claimed that divorce legislation would mean a reduction in violence within marriage.
The Irish Times and Jean Tansey claimed that divorce legislation would mean a reduction in violence against children within the family home.
Three dead babies already this year.
A continuing explosion of violence in the domestic setting.
Wives murdering their husbands, husbands murdering their wives, a veritable maelstrom of bloodshed.
I've gotta say it.
Jean Tansey and the Irish Times have a lot to answer for.
They are the disgraces.
I say it again.
When has the Irish Times ever been right about anything?
Here is the news.
The Irish Times is a profoundly unpopular media entity serving the interests of shadowy figures who believe themselves to be the elites of our culture and to be entitled to rule us without accountability.
That's what the Irish Times is.
But the Irish Times has noticed that people are starting to talk back to it.
The purpose of its latest gerrymandered survey this week on attitudes to the church in education, is to sow the excruciatingly false notion in the public mind that the people of Ireland actually agree with the anti Catholic persecution currently being steered through our culture by the Irish Times and its allies.
The Irish Times is not going to stop this until we stop them.
I'm telling you gentle readers.
Turn the other cheek, is not meant to be a justification for oppressors.

field of souls

the fronded chestnut tree
rears over long grass
shadows flit and whisper
of what is and what is past
and in the field of souls
my grandfather rests at last
i will be seeing him still
some time the city crowds upon me
he'll raise an ash plant to a thistle
call his dog to heels
cry glory and whistle
whistle down the years
can you feel the softness
of the mist upon your face
or sense the shadows brooding
when the twilight whispers peace
then know the final darkness
is a darkness of release

Sunday, January 31, 2010

A Bit Irish (By Medbh Gillard and James Healy)

"Well Doc, my problem is I'm just too much of a giver..."

cooking with uncle james

Evening at the Chateau De Healy.
I am preparing chops for my dinner.
Two chops.
A porker and a lamb.
We gout sufferers have to be careful what we eat.
I'm nearly sure chops and fry-ups are okay.
Chops and fry-ups washed down with lashings of Ginger Beer.
Or was that an Enid Blyton book?
That woman haunts me.
Why wasn't I born British?
Think of all the mysteries I'd have solved by now.
So I'm a cooking.
I reach for the pepper.
There is none.
"Maaaa," I call urgently. "Where's the pepper?"
The Lady known as Lil is ensconced in an armchair in the adjoining room watching Eggheads.
"It's in the press," she shouts back. "Where else would it be!"
I go to the press and retrieve a jar of pepper.
It has never been opened.
I look at it keenly.
The price tag is still on it.
The price tag proclaims that it was bought in Doyles shop.
There ain't been no shop called Doyles in Kilcullen for nigh on fifty years.
Okay five.
Nigh on five years.
I look at the base of the tin.
The expiry date reads: Best before 2001.
Bloody hell.
These people are trying to kill me.
It's gotta be a Cleaning Lady plot.
A plot to do away with the young squire.
What am I going to do?
Eat chops without pepper?
Oh the humanity.
I reach into the press and fumble around a bit.
Presently I latch on to another jar of pepper.
Expiry date: August 2007.
Once more into the press.
And yet once more.
I find a last sad pepper cannister.
Expiry date: December 2009.
That one was right at the back of the press.
Explain the logic of that.
I throw the lot of them in the bin.
With a visage mildly thunderous, I enter the television room and inform the mother what has just transpired.
"Oh go on," sez she. "You can use the 2009 one. It won't kill you."
"I've already thrown it in the bin," I tell her.
"Take it out again," adviseth she.
I give a faint toss of my handsome preraphaelite head.
"No mother," I say with some disdain. "I prefer to eat my chops without pepper this evening. Thank you very much."


The Costa cafe at evening.
Sitting with the Spanish Onion.
"Well we're finished," I said, referring to the fact that our coffee was drunk and it was time to go.
Her face clouded and her eyes fell.
"Never say that," she told me.
She looked briefly like an upset little girl.
It was the most charming thing I ever saw.

something wicked this way comes

Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has again been attacking Bishops in the pages of the Irish Times.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has once more spoken out to condemn Bishops who dare to defend themselves against the lies and innuendo in Judge Yvonne Murphy's report into the Bishops' handling of old child abuse cases.
I have noted previously that Archbishop Diarmuid Martin's brother Seamus was formerly a pro Soviet writer for the Irish Times.
I have also raised the question as to precisely why Archbishop Diarmuid Martin leaks so many stories to that same Irish Times.
It is an odd way for Archbishop Diarmuid Martin to communicate with the faithful, with Bishops, or indeed with anyone.
I have expressed serious disquiet at the manner in which Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has publically intimated guilt and wrong doing towards various Bishops mentioned in Yvonne Murphy's report into the handling of old child abuse cases.
I believe Yvonne Murphy's report amounts to a persecution of the church.
The only crime it can place at the foot of Bishops is the crime of not defying all the professional and legal advice they received thirty years ago and instead handling the sex abuse cases they were dealing with then, in the way Yvonne Murphy claims she thinks they should be handled today.
That's some ascription of wrong doing.
The liberals leading this persecution are confident the public will never fully understand the manipulation being carried out here.
The notion is being propagated in the public mind that Bishops concealed sex abuse.
I note that Liberal Judges such as Yvonne Murphy are not very adept at protecting children in their own care. I mean vulnerable children whom the Judges encounter in the courts system. Judges leave babies in the custody of violent drug dealing parents time and time again. The Judges consider it inhumane to break up such families. We've had three dead babies already this year in those circumstances. Three we know about.
So you all know where I stand.
Now Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is upping the ante with blatent attacks on Bishop Dermot O'Mahoney and on any Bishop who publically disagrees with the insinuations in Yvonne Murphy's report. (The interview with Archbishop Diarmuid Martin was forwarded to the Irish Times live from Davos in Switzerland by a journalist styling himself Simon Carswell .)
So Archbishop Diarmuid Martin doesn't think Bishops have the right to defend themselves.
Very interesting.
Bishop Dermot O'Mahoney had provoked the Archbishop Diarmuid Martin's ire by gently pointing out some of the unfairness, inaccuracies and inconsistencies in statements emanating from Archbishop Diarmuid Martin.
The Irish Times in its article does not of course bother to clarify the reasons for Bishop O'Mahoney's earlier mild criticisms of Archbishop Diarmuid Martin.
Inconsistencies is a damn kind word for what the Irish Times favourite Archbishop Diarmuid Martin was propagating.
Some time ago Archbishop Diarmuid Martin falsely claimed that Bishop O'Mahoney had never issued a public apology for the criticisms levelled at him in Yvonne Murphy's report, when in fact Martin was fully aware that an apology had been issued and was BEING HELD FROM PUBLIC VIEW by Martin's own communications department personnel.
Today's tissue of innuendos from Archbishop Diarmuid Martin again falsely attribute guilt to Bishops mentioned in Yvonne Murphy's report.
In fact Archbishop Diarmuid Martin goes further.
He attributes guilt to Bishops for the crime of disputing the report's findings.
This is a new crime.
A newly invented crime.
To go with all the new crimes retrospectively invented by Yvonne Murphy in the report itself.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin now proposes removing the right of reply from men whom Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is callumniating in the national press.
And betraying.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is ascribing guilt to Bishops who dare to dispute Yvonne Murphy's conclusions, her motivations, and her rationale.
You understand what this means.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is attempting to overturn our two thousand year old conception of justice.
That a person accused of anything is entitled to a fair hearing.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin whines to the Irish Times: "All I would like to see is people accept accountability and say 'look this is what happened.' In that letter there is a certain rejection of what happened."
All he would like to see.
The crassness of it.
All he would like to see is people accepting guilt where they have done nothing wrong, where their handling of sex abuse cases stemmed from poor legal advice, wrong advice from psycho therapists dealing with the abusers, and a general culture in Ireland which advocated handling such matters discretely.
That's all Diarmuid Martin wants.
Accept guilt for something you never did.
Allow Diarmuid Martin and Yvonne Murphy to lodge in the public mind the notion that you deliberately covered up sex abuse.
That's all he wants.
Not too much to ask surely.
I'm telling you.
All of you.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is an evil man.
Evil or criminally stupid.
That letter.
The letter he is referring to.
That letter is the one from Bishop Dermot O'Mahoney which up to this moment Archbishop Diarmuid Martin was pretending did not exist.
Bishop O'Mahoney's letter in fact accepted too much responsibilty for things he hadn't done.
It accorded too much credibility to the manipulations of Judge Yvonne Murphy and to the attendant manipulative posturing of Archbishop Diarmuid Martin.
It was far too polite to an Archbishop who no longer is entitled to politeness.
This is a bad man.
I gotta tell you folks.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is himself the greatest tragedy to befall the church in Ireland in the past five hundred years.
All those who've sought the destruction of the church in that time, the only thing they never quite managed, was to get one of their own at the top.
Remember this.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has been content to ascribe guilt to Bishops who have never in their lives done anything wrong.
He has accepted Yvonne Murphy's blase incrimination of heroes.
He has rubber stamped her silken innuendos and malignly contrived hindsight.
He has acquiesced as she slandered the best among us.
The ones who gave selflessly of their lives and their youth to make a better Ireland.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin endorsed every mendacious thesis Murphy constructed and not only that.
He sought to remove the right of reply.
He permitted Murphy to publically voice the foulest accusations against Bishops.
The deliberate concealment of sex abuse.
And then he told the Bishops they must all accept her findings.
So her report isn't a report.
It's a verdict.
Yvonne Murphy is not a Judge.
She's Judge And Jury.
And Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is Executioner.
The executioner of reputations.
My God, it would have been kinder to murder those men.
Labelling them as concealers of sex abuse and taking away their right to reply... why it was just... inhuman.
The only similar persecutions I can think of, existed in China, where Mao's communists would sometimes dislocate an accused person's jaw to prevent them from speaking.
Even Hitler and Stalin with all their show trials, even they at least went through the motions of allowing the defendants to state their case.
I say it again.
We are dealing with evil.
At best, Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is an appeaser of the liberal atheistic elites who are seeking to dechristianise Ireland and who are using old sex abuse cases as a Trojan Horse for their mission of destruction.
At best.
He is an appeaser.
But he's more than this.
It's clear he's probably something a whole lot worse.
For some reason Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has stood aside while a media and judicial conspiracy sought to strip the church of her leaders.
For some reason, though he is a church leader, the conspiracy isn't focussed on him.
I think this is because he is a part of it.



the fire flies

the heart of the city is ablaze
with the light of a million fire flies
electronic music clarions
a million heartless melodies
for youth to get old by
they have come
from hostelry or home
to prove they exist
as more than passing ornament
to the concrete where they kiss
but they don't
carefree cocksure cool they die
pledged in troth to a quick eternal
drunk with the glory of shining eyes
that waft a spell a touch infernal
from off the shores of paradise

streets of fire

Beetling along Naas main street after dark.
I draw level with a distinguished looking man in an improbable trench coat.
It is the historian Liam Kenny.
He knows me from somewhere.
Before he can say anything I tell him: "Stop writing history columns for the Leinster Leader. The Leinster Leader is evil. The Johnston Press group that owns the Leinster Leader is evil. They can't fire people like me and they can't dump people like Ron Hickey after fifty years, unless people like you keep writing for them. You are making it possible for them to behave the way they behave."
He looked at me owlishly from behind thick glasses.
There was no need for any other greeting.
I strode away.
He knew what I meant.


Padraic MacKernan: Padraic MacKernan is dead. His name remains largely unknown to Irish people although he is one of those elusive figures who for the past thirty years wielded vast power over our nation. He governed from the shadows. He never in his life stood for election. As a high ranking civil servant he pulled the puppet strings from the wings while politicians came and went around him. He had more power than any of them. At the pinnacle of his career he was a Senior Secretary in the Department of Foreign Affairs. They styled him Secretary General. But let's face it, head of a government department in a country with a population of three million people, it's hardly the United Nations is it. Before this he was variously Ireland's ambassador to the USA, to France, and to the European Union. Now he's Ireland's ambassador to the after life. Only, he didn't believe in the after life. This week the body of Padraic MacKernan was cremated in Dublin after a humanist ceremony. I don't know what precisely these atheists think is so humanitarian about their atheism. Nonetheless they insist on styling their funerals humanist ceremonies rather than atheistic funerals. Maybe they just like the ring of the word humanist. But the atheist ceremony with which Padraic MacKernan made his farewell lap of honour, demonstrates more than anything else how unrepresentative of Ireland was this man who had for so many years and in so many places, represented us. In spite of the best efforts of RTE, Independent Newspapers and The Irish Times, atheistic funerals remain strictly a minority sport. Various periodicals have been regaling us over the weekend with tales of MacKernan's supposedly great sense of humour. When a Fianna Fail Minister proposed a visit to Indonesia during Galway Race Week, MacKernan is supposed to have said: "You're putting Jakarta before the horse." (How absolutely hilarious. Make that man emperor for life. Oh right. We already did.) His only known other joke related to a British decision in the 1980's to bar the Indian free love guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh from entering the United Kingdom. The guru took refuge in Ireland. A reporter demanded of the Irish Prime Minister Garret Fitzgerald what Ireland intended to do about the situation. MacKernan whispered in Fitzgerald's ear: "Tell him, in Ireland we let Bhagwans be Bhagwans." (How unbearably funny. Oops. There goes one of my sides. Just split right open, I was laughing so hard.) Interestingly enough, the Prime Minister whose strings MacKernan was pulling for that particular quip, was the first one in Ireland to ever advance the enlightened policy of throwing free money at collapsing banks. Good old Garret Fitzgerald. Garret the Good he was sometimes known as. The banks said it with more fervour than most. Three decades ago. He was way ahead of the chase. He gave Allied Irish Banks free money when the adventurism of that corporation overseas first threatened to collapse in a heap around it. And of course Fitzgerald secured no ownership of Allied Irish Banks on behalf of the Irish people while divvying up the wads and paying off Allied Irish Banks' gambling losses. Oh noooo.That's not the way the game is played.  Nearly thirty years ago Fitzgerald concluded that the Irish people should bail out Allied Irish Banks for a net return of nothing. Wait till you see the obituary I write for that bast--d.

another stunning performance from judge liberal

Judge Liberal and Jury Liberal have between them just about managed to convict a man of something they call manslaughter for staving in a woman's head with a brick.
The woman was married to the man who murdered her.
Or manslaughtered her as the Liberals would have it.
The Jury (twelve good liberals and true) concluded that the prosecution had failed to prove he actually intended to kill her.
So no murder conviction.
Just manslaughter.
It's hard to know what a murderer has to do in this country to actually get convicted of murder.
Hey Liberals.
The clue is in the bit where he staved in her head with the brick.
The Daily Mail dedicated twelve full pages to this case yesterday.
One of their page long articles asserted that the general public is fascinated by the case.
We just want the murderer convicted of murder that's all.
That's the beginning and end of public interest in this matter.
Nobody is reading the Daily Mail's salacious sexualised expose style reportage.
You know folks I really do think the Daily Mail is overestimating the amount of public interest in the Daily Mail's attempts to turn a woman's murder into entertainment.
I just have a feeling.
(Copy this to all hacks.)
Meanwhile in another case, a second Judge Liberal, a certain Peter Charlton, made great play this week of dishing out five life sentences for various violations committed by a rapist against a young family.
Judge Charlton said: "I never want to see him released."
Yeah Liberal.
Neither does anyone else.
But why then did you issue an order that your dramatic showboating life sentences should run concurrently?
Concurrently means the five life sentences will all be served at the same time.
In other words, they're just one life sentence.
The rapist could have been violating all night long and he wouldn't have incurred any extra penalties.
Well, he'll know the next time.
Eh Liberal?
In an Irish prison one life sentence means the rapist will be out in six years.

a rooskie in dublin


By Irina Kuksova


A weekend in Her Majesty's realm. London is such a great place for culture-vulturing. Think of it: not once did I hear the dreaded "C" word from a gallerist! It's a perfect – although temporary – escape from Dublin and its quiet despair written all over the windows of abandoned art gallery spaces.

London just can't help pulling you into its whirlwind of trendy events. If you are to support a starving artist, why not do it in style?

 Ok, I admit that visiting a certain friend's gallery was on the top of my London schedule. I also admit, that this very place, unlike any other on my list, turned out to be closed. Hey, I actually walked right past it, as I was sure I must've mistook the address.

"The dreaded "C", Irina, you should've known better!' you may say. I hear you. Now, would you like to know what the tall, dark and handsome photographer I found inside that supposedly 'out of business' place told me? The gallery is rented out to… another art gallery. My friend, the actual owner, has simply decided to have a holiday!..

As I was leaving, I bumped into a couple of lads carrying in a huge painting. More pieces were waiting outside, ready to be unwrapped, photographed and be shown to public. A car sticker slogan flashed in my mind: "Crisis? What crisis?"

special guest blogger saint paul the evangelist

Holocaust Memorial Day

What Christians Really Think About The People Of Israel.

Saint Paul writes: Is it possible that God abandoned his people? Out of the question! I too am an Israelite, descended from Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin. God never abandoned his own people to whom ages ago he gave recognition. Do you not remember what scripture says about Elijah and how he made a complaint to God against Israel: Lord they have put your prophets to the sword, torn down your altars, I am the only one left and now they want to kill me? And what was the prophetic answer answer that was given? I have spared for myself seven thousand men that have not bent the knee to Baal. In the same way then in our own time there is a remnant set aside by grace. And since it is by grace, it cannot now be by good actions, or grace would not be grace at all!
What follows? Israel failed to find what it was seeking. Only those who were chosen found it and the rest had their minds hardened. Just as it says in scripture: God has infused them with a spirit of lethargy; until today they have not eyes to see or ears to hear. David too says: May their own table prove a trap for them, a pitfall, and a snare; let that be their retribution. May their eyes grow so dim they cannot see and their backs be bent forever.
What I am saying is this: Was this stumbling to lead to their final downfall? Out of the question! On the contrary, their failure has brought salvation for the nations, in order to stir them (the Jews themselves) to envy. And if their fall has proved a great gain to the world, and their loss has proved a great gain to all nations, (Saint Paul is suggesting that the refusal by many Jews to accept Jesus as God was the reason that the followers of Jesus went and preached the gospel to the rest of the world) - how much greater a gain will come when all is restored to them. (To the Jews.)
Let me say then to you people of the nations that as far as I am an apostle to the nations, I take pride in this work of service. And I want it to be the means of rousing to envy the people who are my own blood relations, and so of saving some of them. Since their rejection (of Jesus) meant the reconciliation of the world, do you know what their reacceptance will mean? Nothing less than life from the dead!


Remember God's severity as well as his goodness: His severity to those who fell, and his goodness to you as long as you persevere in it; if not you too will be cut off. And they, if they do not persevere in their unbelief will be grafted in. For it is within the power of God to graft them back again. After all, if you, cut off from what was by nature a wild olive, could then be grafted unnaturally on to a cultivated olive, how much easier will it be for them, the branches that naturally belong there, to be grafted on to the olive tree which is their own.
I want you to be quite certain, brothers, of this mystery, to save you from congratulating yourselves on your own good sense: Part of Israel had its mind hardened, but only until the nations have wholly come in; and this is how all Israel will be saved. As scripture says:
From Zion will come the Redeemer
he will remove godlessness from Jacob
And this will be my covenant with them
when I take their sins away.
As regards the gospel they are enemies, only for your sake. But as regards those who are God's choice, they are still well loved for the sake of their ancestors. There is no change of mind on God's part about the gifts he has made or of his choice.
Just as you were in the past disobedient to God but now you have been shown mercy through their disobedience, so in the same way they are disobedient now, so that through the mercy shown to you, they too will receive mercy. God has imprisoned all human beings in their disobedience only to show mercy to them all.


From Paul's Letter To The Romans, Chapter 11. Words in brackets added by Heelers.

the monica leech laugh in

Our problem page...
Dear Uncle James.
My friend Mary claims there's no difference between a ton of bricks and a ton of feathers. What do you think?
Bill Maynard
Dear Bill.
Try tickling her feet with a brick and see what she says.
Uncle James