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, April 09, 2011

days of the halcyon

Newbridge College.
The dulcet Summer of 1981.
An otiose sixteen year old stripling called Paddy Fenton, all smug rosy cheeks and flowing pseudo popstar black curls, decides to open a new front in his attempts to humiliate a fifteen year old genius called James Healy.
Fenton was a native of a village called Dingle in County Kerry where many of the people still speak the old Irish language.
He had grown up surrounded by poetry, music and the ancient faith.
By rights he should have been my friend.
But he belonged to that cadre of children desperate to project their fears about their own sexualities onto other children.
I considered him something akin to pond scum.
He approached me between classes this fine Summer morning at the dawn of the world.
His manner betrayed a certain eagerness.
Apparently he thought he had found a new yet more exquisite form of torture and was anxious to add it to his repertoire of humiliations.
"Hey James," he began, "do you love me?"
"No Fenton," I replied without hesitation and with great sincerity, "I hate you."
"But if you're a Christian you have to love me," he challenged.
Ah yes.
That old gag.
Interestingly enough, every two bit atheist in history has thought to use that line as a torture for Christians.
The Lutheran Pastor Richard Wurmbrand recalls Romanian Communists using it on imprisoned priests whose finger nails they were pulling out.
"No Fenton," I explained kindly, "I don't love you. I don't even like you. I find the very notion of you disgusting and repellent. And I do hate you."
"But Jesus says you have to love me," pressed the pathetic booby with a hint of the firstlings of desperation.
"I've read the Bible Fenton," I told him patiently, " and there's nothing in it about loving you."
"If you're a Christian you have to love me," he repeated doltishly.
He had become incapable of elaborating his premise beyond this single point.
His normal goonish Gaelic eloquence had all but deserted him.
The class were watching.
And the whole thing wasn't going as swimmingly as he might have hoped.
The victim was talking back.
"I don't think I have to love you," I reiterated just as patiently as before, "and in truth I hate you. I find you thoroughly odious. Utterly without merit as a human being."
This from a fifteen year old.
I was good even in those days.
Fenton looked nonplussed.
"The Bible says you have to love me," he fumbled.
I spoke real slow to give him a chance of understanding.
"It says no such thing," I stated, "and even if did, nothing in the Bible may ever be used by a tyrant or a scumbag to justify his tyranny."
Fenton reddened.
He didn't give up though.
Terrified and all as he was of being homosexual, he can't have been a total coward since he had dared to try crossing verbal swords with the likes of me in a theological debate.
Delusional.
Half witted.
Thick as two Gaelic planks.
But not a coward.
"Jesus will be angry with you if you don't say you love me," he proclaimed desperately.
I chuckled.
"No Fenton," I said softly, "I don't think he will. In fact I think on Judgement Day if Jesus says to me: James I wanted you to love Paddy Fenton, and I reply: Lord I just hated that guy. I could never stand him. I thought he was a completely worthless bastard and I don't know why you gave him life. I fully expect Jesus to answer with a grin: You're right Jim. What the hell was I thinking of? Head on in there to paradise. You are among the righteous. Well done my true and faithful servant. And that was a particularly good line about nothing I say may ever be used as a justification for tyrants or scumbags. Fenton was some scumbag wasn't he. He's burning in hell right this moment. And even the devil can't stand him."
At this stage Fenton might have beaten me up.
His face was puce.
His mouth working without sounds emerging.
Yes, he could have beaten me up at that point.
This would have been par for the course among children who bully other children to conceal their own homosexual fears.
Instead of beating me up he turned his back and walked away.
I've always thought rather well of him for it.

riverbank

Friday, April 08, 2011

tabloids 4 beginners

Both The Sun and The Daily Mirror run stories today headlined 'Hero Cop.' The stories relate to a police officer who while doing the job he is excessively remunerated to do, failed to prevent four thieves from escaping after an attempted robbery. Hero indeed. The hoods must just love him. The same day both aforementioned tabloid newspapers failed to even mention the story about hero police officers which is currently gripping the irish nation. The story where the hero cops are threatening to rape and violate citizens. Could this failure have anything to do with the fact that both tabloids are currently seeking irish government bailouts for their loss making titles? C words.

more garda scum

Days after a similar case, yet more members of the Irish police force have been caught threatening to rape women citizens of the Irish Republic. A new tape has emerged of a corrupt thug cop threatening to rape another man's wife. The police officer's exact words were: 'I am going to stick my c--k into your wife.' The couple's complaint about this thug was disgracefully rejected by abjectly corrupt investigators who claimed they had waited too long to make their complaint in the first place.

the ayatollah khomeini problem page

Dear Ayatollah Khomeini.
I love my family but sometimes they really get on my nerves. The children are quite unruly when I wake them for school. My wife often serves up the same old dinners time and time again. What should I do?
Mohammed, Somalia.

******
Dear Mohammed.
Hack off their heads with a machete.
The Ayatollah.

Thursday, April 07, 2011

hallelujah

Wednesday, April 06, 2011

how corrupt is the irish police force

A senior irish police officer has been caught on video sneering the following about a woman he had just been harassing at the side of the road: 'Give me your name and address or I'll rape you...' How corrupt is the irish police force? Answer: They're very f---ing corrupt.

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

soldier blues

Colonel Clement was speaking to the parents of the new inductees at the Irish army military base on the Curragh.
I was listening with barely contained fury.
He was saying: "Don't worry about your sons. We are going to look after them. We will make them into men."
A part of me wanted to interrupt and explain to the parents just what they were letting themselves in for.
There have been suicides of late in the Irish army.
Odd sad little suicides.
It seems some of the supposedly manly soldiers have an overwhelming need to project their sexual fears onto other soldiers.
This has resulted in institutionalised bullying that is simply off the scale.
I only know about it because a senior army officer sought my advice on one of the suicides.
It wasn't reported in the media.
So some of the victims of this ritual humiliation choose to end it all by killing themselves.
And the Irish army makes boys into men, eh Commander Clement?
No it doesn't.
Not even a little bit.
There's more.
In the past few years we've had at least two serial killers emerging from the ranks of the Irish army.
Two that we know about.
John Crerar and Sean Courtney were soldiers who had an odd predilection for snatching women off the streets at Christmas, torturing them, raping them and murdering them.
It's the Christmas business that makes me suggest the presence of a devil worshipping ring in the Irish army.
Why Christmas?
Why on earth would murdering Irish army soldiers slaughter women at Christmas?
But the salient point is that both serial killers were able to serve happily in the ranks of the Irish army until they got a bit careless about their butchering of women.
A third Irish army soldier has also emerged as a serial killer in my lifetime.
Private McKaleevy had made known to his fellow soldiers and supervising officers that he considered Jewish people to be sub human.
He had openly boasted of his admiration for Hitler.
This was apparently no barrier to service in the Irish army.
In fact the heroes at headquarters sent Private McKaleevy to serve as what they call a Peace Keeper in Lebanon.
This gave him ample opportunity to indulge in the favourite Irish army passtime of allowing Muslim terrorists from Iran's proxy army Hezbollah to slip through United Nations Peace Keeper checkpoints to carry out attacks in Israel.
It also gave him ample opportunity to racially abuse and threaten Israeli's at those same checkpoints.
Private McKaleevy's overt racial abuse of Jewish people at checkpoints proved no barrier to his continued service as a neutral Peace Keeper with the Irish army in South Lebanon.
The only problem with Private McKaleevy's manly bigoted Peace Keeping came when one morning he woke up and decided racially abusing Jewish people was not enough for him.
Private McKaleevy promptly murdered three of our own soldiers.
Shot them to death at point blank range.
They never had a chance.
Yeah they make your sons into men alright.
And then they allow a registered certified dyed in the wool Northern Ireland monster like McKaleevy to kill them.
When the military police arrived on the scene of McKaleevy's slaughter, McKaleevy said the following: "The Yids did it. It was the Jews. The f---ing Jews."
No one can have been too surprised
Since this was the sort of talk that had been his hallmark since joining the Irish army.
Let us return to the present day.
Private McKaleevy is once more back on the streets.
As is serial killer John Crerar.
As will be serial killer Sean Courtney in the next few weeks.
All thianks to the destruction of law orchestrated by liberal judges and their ilk lurking in the shadows of the upper echelons of our society.
And Colonel Clement is telling the parents of boy soldiers what a wonderful career their sons will have in the Irish army.
It is almost too much to bear.
The pious hypocrasy of it.
But hush.
Colonel Clement is speaking.
"I want you to know that we are shortly to begin another mission in South Lebanon. It is the people of South Lebanon who have requested the Irish as Peace Keepers. They didn't want other nationalities. But they trust the Irish."
Of course they do Clement.
Of course they do.
What Muslim wouldn't trust you and your corrupt anti Israeli cadres.
You have put Ireland on the wrong side of history.
So we're going back to Lebanon.
Back to running pass defence for Jihadi's while posing as Peace Keepers.
Back to plush bottomed Irish army officers carrying out recyclable investigations for Amnesty International which accuse Israel of war crimes.
Back to young soldiers getting paid sums of money their parents could never have dreamed of just to go along with this bollocksology.
I am standing here crying tears of frustration.
Because in all modesty I know a thing or two about Muslims and I know a thing or two about the State of Israel.
The Muslims intend to detonate atomic weapons in Israel during the next few years.
And there has been a sea change in the attitude of Jewish people about the matter.
They are no longer asking our permission to defend themselves.
In the event that the Islamic Republic of Iran attacks Israel, unleashing its proxy armies from the Gaza Strip, Syria and South Lebanon, along with its own regular army, I have no doubt that Israel will repel them by detonating its own nuclear devices across all points of attack.
The Israeli's will not engage in yet another noblesse oblige boxing match with those seeking to wipe them off the map.
This is my analysis.
You understand the burden I labour under, never having been wrong before.
In the event of an all out Arab Islamic attack on Israel with multiple terror armies advancing in the field, the Israelis will unleash the unforgettable fire.
If Clement and his faux Peace Keeping hardmen are intent on putting our sons in the middle of that, they'd better bring along a lot of body bags.
Forgive my use of the body bag cliche, gentle readers.
It doesn't quite fit.
For the next generation of Irish army soldier boys will never live to spend the bribes the United Nations pays them.
They will be vapourised.

Sunday, April 03, 2011

days of the halcyon

I am standing by the riverside in Newbridge College.
The day is going down
There is an island in the river. In years gone by there used to be an ornamental pond in the middle of the island.
My mind goes back thirty years.
Two youngsters, Billy O'Neill and his friend David O'Hanlon (nicknamed Sid) are contemplating the pond.
"I bet you a pound you won't try to jump that," says Billy O'Neill.
The pond looks unjumpable.
"You're on," says David O'Hanlon.
He retreats many paces and takes a long run at the pond, rising like an unwieldy gazelle into the air.
The world becomes a sploosh.
Water, water everywhere.
The air clears.
David O'Hanlon emerges from the pond like a creature from the deep.
With calm dignity he sloshes towards his friend.
"You owe me a pound," he proclaims triumphantly.