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, January 08, 2011

the lady

When Tracy Anne was six years old she fell ill suddenly.
She was taken to hospital.
Her mother was with her at the bedside.
The child said: "Mammy, who is that beautiful lady?"
Her mother said: "It's me Tracy Anne. I'm with you."
The child said: "No, not you. The one at the end of the bed."
Her mother said: "I'm the only one here Tracy Anne. I'm not going to leave you."
The child said: "I can see you Mammy. But who is the beautiful lady at the end of the bed? She's so beautiful."
Her mother stared into the empty space at the end of the bed.
"Oh blessed mother Mary," she said. "I know you've come to take her to heaven. Please don't take her. Leave her with me."
That night the child suffered major organ failure.
In the morning she strengthened.
She lives a few miles from me.
She is in her thirties, married, with children of her own.

obitcheries

Gerry Rafferty is dead.
The unimaginative conformist twits who run television news stations in Ireland, Britain and America should have played Baker Street on their programmes in his memory.
The full thing.
No interruption or explanation or insufferable talking heads.
Just the song.
It should have been the lead story.

Friday, January 07, 2011

our television listings

RTE1
(The Irish national fraudcaster. A television station run by atheistic pseudo liberal bolshevicks but financed by compulsory taxation on the Christian citizenry of Ireland who are themselves prevented by law from setting up other television stations to compete with it. The wheel is rigged and it's the only game in town.)
***** 
9.00 Delia's Kitchen. Cookery programme hosted by some spanner.
9.30 The Archbishop Diarmuid Martin Laugh In. Marxist propaganda programme featuring a Soviet era infiltrator of the Catholic Church.
10.00 Friends. I quite like Friends. This week Monica designs a website for a Fianna Fail Minister and charges the Irish people three hundred grand for the pleasure.
12.00 The Snurds. RTE sitcom set in a television station.
1.00 Midday News. Read by Joe Stalin or some other fully paid up piously hypocritical member of the National Union of Sodomites, I mean Journalists.
2.00 Murder She Wrote. Jessica is accused of being an arachnid.
3.00 Harridans In The Afternoon. Wimminy chat show presented by three hagerdotal galoots who are the cosmic antitheses of femininity. Oprah Winfrey's body lies a mouldering in the grave. The horror. The horror.
5.00 Vincent Brown Does Dallas. Early evening porno presented by ageing Maoist who gets off on sneering at the faith of our fathers. It is strange to me that a man like Brown who is so fascinated by the tiny minority of sex abuse victims who were violated by supposed members of the Catholic Church and so disinterested in the vast majority of sex abuse cases which have occurred at the hands of non Catholics, strange I say, that such a moral man, had no moral reservations at all about conducting a sexual relationship with mentally ill pop singer Sinead O'Connor. The enigmas endure.
6.00 The Anschluss. Programme celebrating the annexation of Ireland by drug scuzz hedonist atheistic pagan bankrupt readerless viewerless media groups, to wit The Irish Times, Independent Newspapers and, er, RTE. This programme will be replacing The Angelus on RTE schedules from now on.
6.30 Evening News. Among the brilliant news stories on offer this evening will be an account of population decline in a Northern Italian city. Yup. RTE apparently thinks this is the stuff we need to know. Let's be clear. RTE has sent reporter Colin Baines to Venice with a full production crew to film a three minute news segment about a gradual population decline in the city of Venice. They really did. I'm not making it up. While Ireland is going down the tubes, RTE reporters and cameramen and production executives are swanning around Venice earnestly analysing its population fluctuations while occasionally helping themselves to a few nights Bachanalian orgies in Venice's famous luxury hotels. Ah. They suffer for their art.
7.00 Dross. Two hour yawn fest presented by Yawny Mac Yawn. I can't believe we're forced to finance this yawning excuse for a television station. Yawn.
9.00 The Late Late Show. Chat show hosted by the eldest son of some Fianna Fail dynasty who is paid a million quid a year just to stand there. The host is whichever Fianna Failer's turn it is to have their son paid a million dollars a year for doing nothing. Ryan Tubridy I think it is at the moment. As talentless as my arse. And that's quare talentless. Tonight's programme features an all star panel consisting of atheistic infliltrator Archbishop Diarmuid Martin and selected child abuse victims who can be depended upon to toe the party line, falsely claiming that the majority of child abuse victims were abused by religious people. The vast preponderance of child abuse victims who were in fact abused, and continue to be abused, in Health Board care, in sports clubs, in hospitals, in schools and in the family home by non Christians, will as usual be ignored. Ireland's corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government have already stated that no compensation will be paid to children raped and murdered while in Health Board care or other forms of State care as Fianna Fail maintains paying compensation to such child abuse victims in these circumstances (as opposed to repeatedly suing the Catholic Church for the tiny minority of victims that can through legalistic contrivancy be laid at its door) would bankrupt the country. Understand this. The corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government, and the faceless apolitical elites who govern Ireland from the shadows of the Judiciary and the media, are willing to bankrupt the Catholic Church with an arbitrarily applied standard of fiscal responsibility towards victims, and at precisely the same time these same corrupt governmental elites are insisting that this same standard of responsibility will never be applied under any circumstances on behalf of other sex abuse victims, ie the vast majority of the overall number of sex abuse victims, who have been abused and murdered in State care and who apparently aren't going to be entitled to any compensation whatsoever solely because their victimhood is of no use to the vile cadre of atheistic hoor masters who are currently usurping parliarmentary and judicial power while trying to expunge the Christian religion from this land. The vast majority of sex abuse victims, 99.99 percent of them in fact, will therefore be accorded no compensation whatsoever by our corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government and Fianna Fail's aforementioned shadowy atheistic Judge Liberal/Humanist Society Of Ireland/Irish Times/Independent Newspapers/RTE puppet masters. Evil aren't they? Bear in mind. This is the same corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government which has just spent the country into the third world throwing 150 thousand million dollars at collapsed gangster banks, namely Fianna Fail's own bank of choice Anglo Irish Bank, along with Allied Irish Bank, Bank Of Ireland and every other toe rag financial institution in this poor beknighted newly enslaved Republic. They've got thousands of millions of dollars of free money to give to gangster banks but they've got nothing to compensate the children who have been violated, abused and murdered in State care through the negligence and/or complicity of this same Fianna Fail government and its shadowy Judicial, Civil Service and media puppet masters.
11.00 Kenny Live. Pat Kenny, another leftist who receives a million dollars of my money every year in salary, presents his own unique anti Catholic take on current events. Programme will conclude with Pat Kenny singing RTE's version of the national anthem:
"It's a lot like life.
But it's our reality.
We call it television
But you know it's just RTE.
Yeah, we're living life
Financed by you Peasantry
We're living life.
We're living life.
We call it
Masters And Servants.
Let's play
Masters And Servants.
Nern ner nern nern nern ner ner ner."
12.00 The Midnight Rant Show With James Healy. They'll never broadcast this. It's good to be back folks. Let the tyrants beware.

Wednesday, January 05, 2011

today they said

Prime Minister David Cameron of Great Britain:
"We will support any United Nations action in Ivory Coast to remove President Gbagbo and replace him with the man we consider the legitimate President of that country, Mr Ouattara."
 *****
James Healy:
"Now let me see. This one's a doozy. Correct me if I'm wrong. But as Prime Minister of Great Britain you've just offered unqualified support for any military action in a remote backwater called Ivory Coast that no one's ever heard of and which has no strategic importance to the world, you've offered unqualified support I say for the removal of President Laurent Gbagbo who is the leader of a tribe in Ivory Coast that is broadly Christian in its cultural ethnicity and who is also now the actual President of his country, duly appointed by his country's Supreme Court and recognised by his country's army, after an admittedly disputed election, and who has in any case offered to accept the results of an election recount in his country, a country by the way that has never accepted Muslim rulership through the back door and is unlikely to accept it any time soon, and yet one which you Mr Cameron are willing to plunge into imminent civil war in order to impose on Ivory Coast the will of the Islamic tribe of Mr Ouattara who has explicitly refused to countenance any election recount. Hoo baby. And this, when at the same time Mr Cameron, you and your immediate predecessors as Prime Minister of Great Britain have been unwilling to contemplate and still refuse to contemplate any direct action whatsoever against the dictator Robert Mugabe who has spent the last thirty years blatently stealing elections in one of Africa's largest, richest and most important country's, namely Zimbabwe, and who has imposed Stalinist communism on that country, systematically bankrupting it, while murdering and imprisoning his perceived rivals, causing the mass exodus of at least three million of the general populace, and reducing to penury and starvation a goodly portion of the remaining five million in a country that would be the richest in Africa if this conflict theory Marxist was compelled to stand aside and the rule of (let's face it, British American style) law was reinstituted. Great Scott. This Britain that was wont to conquer others hath made a shameful conquest of itself. Well. You know what I mean, Guv."
****** 
Robert Mugabe (singing):
"It's a lot like life.
It's what I call reality.
A lot like life.
A lot like life.
We call it
Masters And Servants.
Let's play
Masters And Servants.
By spouting hypocritical bilge
about the evil white man
We make the peasants our slaves
Driving down a nay-shun
The white man is gone
But the blacks are still slaves
We call it
Masters And Servants
Let's play
Masters And Servants
I steal elections
Imposing murderous Marxism
While warning about the honkeys
And the evils of colonialism
I got a palace
But Zimbabwe stays poor
We call it
Masters And Servants.
Let's play
Masters And Servants."

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

masters and douchebags

It was Christmas at the Johnston Press.
Chief Executive John Fry sat at the famous oak desk in the glittering Johnston Press headquarters c/o Dark Satanic Mill, Derbyshire, from which Johnston Press Hyrums & Fyrums had taken over then bankrupted 380 newspapers in Ireland and Britain.
All with money borrowed from idiot banks.
All while paying idiot Johnston Press board members and executives millions of dollars they never earned.
All for nothing.
Now the bottom is falling out.
Since firing James Healy at Christmas three years ago from little known and now near defunct Irish rag The Leinster Leader, the Johnston Press share price on the London Stock Exchange has collapsed from a level of £4 to nothing.
You can't give the things away.
Who knows.
Maybe just maybe the wrong people were getting fired.
Alone in his office John Fry stares at the Johnston Press balance sheets for the end of the year.
Collapsing advertising revenues.
Negligible demographics.
No readers.
"Cor blimey," breathes John Fry.
He grabs his phone.
"Miss Tesbokker," he barks into the receiver. "Take a memo. From this evening all remaining journalists and editors within the Johnston Press group are fired. From now on Cleaning Ladies within the Johnston Press group will double as editors and journalists."
He hangs up the phone and mops his brow.
Suddenly a devilish grin creases his coarsened features.
He stands.
From nowhere the theme tune to British socialist worker pop group Heaven 17's most famous piece of anti capitalist agit prop kicks in.
John Fry sings.
He sings:
"It's a lot like life.
This is our reality.
We borrow the money
To take over your company
A lot like life.
A lot like life.
We call it,
Masters And Servants.
Let's play,
Masters And Servants.
Nern nern nern nern nern nern nern.
We take over your company
And get you down on your knees
We fire you to make back
Our excessive banking fees,
Then steal your pensions,
And retire at our ease
We call it
Masters And Servants
Let's Play
Masters And Servants
Nern nern ner nern ner nern nern ner."
The song is Marxist conflict theory shite being sung by a worthless spiv.
But it is undeniably catchy.

Monday, January 03, 2011

falling icons on new year's day

Afternoon at the chateau.
Flicking through the channels on the sexevision.
And lo!
My eye alights on a new ad for the Snodgrass internet broadband company.
The ad is witty, self referential and quite appealing.
It features an appearance from an old British socialist worker pop group called Heaven 17.
It's actually them.
There they stand.
Oddly likeable, not absolutely untarnished by the years, and laudably willing to poke fun at themselves.
Odd too that the Marxian singers of that masterpiece of agit prop: "Let's play masters and servants," are now working for an internet service provider.
Whatever next?
Me doing a joint promo for Al Qaeda, Qatar Airways and Sky News?
Say it ain't so Osama, say it ain't so.