the madness of king heelers

(CHILDREN OF A LESSER GOD)
Coffee with my feminist cousin Pauline in the White Water Centre.
"I was reading some of my poems at a recital last week?" prattleth she brightly.
The noble Heelers cast her a look of some asperity.
"There was a poetry recital and I wasn't informed?" I intoned coldly.
"It was by invitation only," quoth she.
"And who was invited?" sez me still cold as ice.
"Well Brigadier Berrigan read after me," quoth she.
I nodded bitterly.
"After reciting poems with the Brigadier she knew her mind would never romp again like the mind of God," I pronounced with just a smidge of sarcasm.
"He was very good actually," said Pauline.
"Who? The Brigadier or God? Oh right. You don't believe in God."
"Jamessss."
"And what God or lesser god was responsible for sending out the invites to this gathering of geniuses?"
"It was Trudie O'Brolchain."
Trudie O'Brolchain.
Nymph in thy orisons be all my sins remembered.
What could she have against me?
Oh I may have called her a fish wife in the streets back in the 1980's during the hugger mugger of an impromptu debate about the political situation in the Philippines.
(Hint: I was supporting the Marcos regime.)
And decades later I may have casually libelled her Third World charity group on this website by suggesting it was more like a travel agency providing Summer hols for its volunteers.
But aside from that what could she have against me?
The enigmas endure.
Pauline was examining the little vein on my forehead which was pulsing Dirty Harryishly.
"You've got a tick there," she said. "And James you've got to be realistic. Maisie Baines is never going to invite you to a poetry reading. And er. I wouldn't hold out for any invites from the Brigadier either if I were you."
"I suppose you're right," quoth me. "If I coughed up a Nobel Prize, those people wouldn't invite me to their poetry readings."
"Have you won the Nobel Prize?" enquired Pauline.
"Not recently," sez me drily.
"Oh by the way," sez she, "if you're reading Brian Byrne's blog, look out for an interview with me about my work."
Brian Byrne.
Another nymph.
More orisons.
Ughhh.
So many orisons so little time.
His most recent orison was outing me on his absolute arse of a blog for casually libelling Trudie O'Brolchain's charity.
Back to the present.
So Pauline has just been interviewed on Scrotie McBoogerballs' blog about her life and work.
Ireland's greatest living poet stared furiously (nay jealously) at his feminist cousin.
"You," I thundered. "You. You. You go now."
And she went.