of muslims and men

"You are putting yourself in danger. And you are saying things about people that may not be true of them or that may not be true of all of them."
The words were those of Uncle Scutch.
He was once more engaged in that most peculiar endeavour known to social scientits as trying to protect me from myself.
"You are right about me putting myself in danger," I answered. "But tell me. How many Muslims do you know?"
"None," he said without hesitation.
I said nothing more.
Presently the Uncle said: "Maybe I'm too much of a coward."
I said: "That's not true at all. What you are is someone who right up until the moment Muslims seize power in this country, declare Sharia law, and begin forced exterminations, right up until that moment which is coming, you are someone who would insist on trying to see the good in them.".

symphony

it seemed we came to be
on a housing estate at the edge of eden
across the road from the old chemical factory
that icon of 1960's dublin
lawn mowers creaking buses feuding families
it all seems oddly perfect now
hard to know what's real and what's imagined
difficult to care somehow
in my rose tinted memory miasma
of the trivial heroic glory that was tallaght

time left no trace upon our path
until grainne mulhern came like death into our world
changing the boundaries of the universe
with all the careless cruelty of a little girl
i fought darragh murphy for her hand
and after brian kennedy stood against me
it mattered not who
for all our fighting she never knew
bicycles tree climbing and television
carried our friendships to safer realms
we left loving for another day
and kicked football all summer on tended lawns

then late in august 1971
the street gangs came to fight outside our house
every night for a week around 3am
we'd wake to hear their swearing and the shouts
ritual rites of passage social violence
teenagers with knives and women and motorbikes
they nearly drove my father up the wall
by friday night he'd had all he could take
grabbed his shotgun intent on giving hell
he loosed both barrels high into the sky
and reloaded while the youngsters backed away
less sure of their rights than hoodlums are today
they wander off into the mists of time and fantasy

and as their echoing footsteps grew yet more distant
sprightly wiry tough mick kennedy
champion jockey eternally vigilant
flung open wide the upstairs window at number 17
to shout with thunderous might and main
we're all behind you tom
inspiring legendary mirth all through next day
and for many years among the other residents
but unheard by the teenage warriors of the affray
who were long gone

all the old memories stir

it seemed we came to be
on a housing estate at the edge of eden
across the road from the old chemical factory
that icon of 1960's dublin
lawnmowers creaking buses feuding families
it all seems oddly perfect now
difficult to know what's real and what's imagined
difficult to care somehow
in this rose tinted memory miasma
of the trivial heroic glory of tallaght

the future of law enforcement

A few hours after my altercation with Muslim proselytisers on O'Connell Street, I had calmed down enough to become curious as to what attitude our heroes of law enforcement would take to the affair.
Before catching a Luas tram out of the city, I called into the cop shop at the end of O'Connell Street.
A somewhat jovial looking policeman was on duty.
"Can I help you?" he enquired.
"I shouted at some Muslim demonstrators today and one of them threatened to beat me up," I told him.
"What did you shout?"
"Well I started off with No More Muslim Terror. Is it legal for Muslims to threaten violence and tell people to leave the streets if they don't like what we're saying?"
"No it's not legal," said the policeman. "But you were being provocative. Are you  a religious man yourself?"
"No," I answered.
My reasons for saying no were complex.
I rarely if ever claim to be Christian or Catholic because I know I am unworthy to make that claim.
I didn't explain this to the cop.
I just stood there feeling like a liar.
"I saw you were wearing the rosary," said the cop.
Observant little dickens.
"I've worn that since my parents died," I told him, compounding my dishonour.
"How would you feel if someone said No More Catholic Terror?" asked the cop.
"Is there such a thing as Catholic Terror?" I parried, eyes wide and round at the turn our conversation was taking.
"The IRA are Catholic," said the cop.
"Do you know any IRA men?" I asked the police officer, before continuing, "because all my IRA sources were atheistic Marxians who despised the Catholic Church more than they hated the British army, and who took their orders from Moscow. Both IRA armies by the way. Both of them. Were working for the atheistic Soviet Communist Party."
He shook his head.
"Doesn't matter,"  averred PC 182, "the IRA violence was still all about Catholicism."
"I might disagree with you about the IRA," I said. "And people shout things at Catholics demonstrating in the streets of Dublin all the time. The nicest thing they call us is child abusers. But we don't threaten to beat them to a pulp or tell them to leave the streets on pain of further violence. Still. I might like to debate this with you if we were having a cup of tea or if for some reason I respected your opinion and wished to refute it. But my question to you today is: If I say to Muslim demonstrators with a sign proclaiming Islam the religion of peace, that I want to see no more Arab terror, are the peaceloving Muslims entitled to threaten to beat me up?"
He weighed this.
"They're not," said he eventually. "But you were creating a breach of the peace. We do have free speech. But there are limits."
"Is that how you see it?" quoth I.
"To be honest," quoth he, "if I'd been there I'd probably have told you to leave the area."
Then in an apparent effort to be kind, he repeated his earlier point.
"Anyone could say the same things you say about Muslims about Catholicism," he said.
A feeling of incredulity rose in me.
"Do you really think there's a world wide Catholic terror army trying to take over the world?" I wondered.
"Ah it's all the same," quoth he.
"But Muslims are making war in China, Russia, India, Thailand..."
"Those are Muslim countries."
For a moment I was too moved to speak.
My voice returned.
"No, no. I haven't named a Muslim country yet. China, Russia, India, Thailand... They're all being subjected to Jihad. Between five and ten thousand people slaughtered in Thailand alone in the last five years by Muslims who've decided they own Thailand."
"Look," said the cop, "I sometimes have to police Pro Life marches. And I have sympathy for them. I don't like their methods but I do have sympathy for them."
I smiled.
"Ah you don't really," I said very gently.
"It was a moment of truth.
"I'm Pro Life myself," said the cop.
"Ah you're not really," I said gently as before.
He let it drop.
There was the oddest most paradoxical sense of honesty in the air.
I hadn't fooled him for a second when I lied about being religious.
And he hadn't fooled me when he claimed to be Pro Life.
Just for that moment each of us understood that the other man wasn't a complete idiot.
Just for that moment.
There was a sense of mutual respect.
"Well you've done a great job," I said seriously. "By which I mean I've enjoyed talking to you. I don't for a second believe I've obtained the protection of law."
"I've to close up now," said the cop cheerfully. "You're my last customer of the day."
Behind him my eyes alighted on a row of closed circuit television screens.
The screens showed various shots of O'Connell Street.
"Don't worry," said the cop seeing my gaze and speaking as if to reassure me. "We keep a very close eye on everything that's happening on O'Connell Street. We monitor all the demos. Nothing can happen without us seeing it"
I gaped.
"Do you mean you were sitting here watching that Muslim threatening me for twenty minutes?" I said astonished.
"I wasn't," said the cop, "but someone would have been."
Wearing my famous and much over used rueful expression, I returned to the street.
Truly.
It's a mad, mad, mad, muslim, muslim, muslim, muslim, muslim, muslim, muslim, muslim, muslim, world.
I have a hunch that young police officer will live to eat his words.
Sooner rather than later.

provincial redemption

the majestyof evening in full tide
a silent crescendo of dreams
last birdsong drifting from the shade
reminiscent in the hour angelic hymns

there's a stillness in the green land tonight
and an uproar in hell
for the demons have lost my soul forever
and know it well

sapiens dominabitur astris

Coffee with Basil Exposition in the White Water Centre.
"There has to be more Heelers," says Basil. "It's just not like you. I know you think there's a threat to the world from Muslims. I know you've tried to warn people about the Muslim Jihadis attacking Russia, China, India and any number of countries. Still I've never heard you say to one: Get out of my country."
"Ah I've said it alright Basil. I said it after they killed 150 Russian school children at Beslan. I've probably said it at other times too."
"I've never heard you say it. Admit it. There's more to this."
I grinned ruefully.
"There is more Basil. But it's too embarassing. It's too humiliating. It's too silly. Look.. You know that for the past eleven years the Black Jacket Muslim Gang has been asserting itself ever more aggressively on the streets of Dublin. You know they've targeted me."
"I know you say they have."
"Well listen. A few years ago, whenever I went into the toilets at the Ilac Shopping Centre on Henry Street, the toilet attendant would go to his cublicle work station and trigger the smoking alarm. The smoking alarm is a klaxon with a loud voice that says: No cigarettes are permitted here, security staff have been alerted."
"Ah Heelers."
"No listen. I formed the opinion after a few test runs that this was definitely happening every time I entered the toilet in the Ilac Centre. I also formed the opiinion that either the toilet attendant was a Black Jacket Muslim or he was a friend of some Black Jacket Muslims. So I just stopped going in to the Ilac Centre for a few years. Now a few days ago I went back. I used the toilets several times with no ill effects. On Friday I went into the toilets. There were a few Muslims standing at the cublicles and I'm telling you they looked up and leered as I came in. These weren't your average suit and tie Mussies. These were real Krenoid Muslims. They looked like something the cat had dragged in before getting her head hacked off."
"What's a Krenoid Muslim?" wondered Basil wearily and warily.
"The Krenoid was an alien plant life form that killed people in a 1970s episode of the British atheistic science fiction television series Doctor Who."
"Doctor Who's an atheist is he Heelers?"
"He is. And I believe that some of Richard Dawkins pals working as scriptwriters engaged in a conspiracy to use the series to culturally atheise a generation of young people in Britain. Dawkins is married to Lala Ward who played the sexy warrior woman Leela in Doctor Who. She now illustrates some of Dawkins' books. You gotta look for the seam lines. The connections are there. But that's another story. Just listen will you. The Krenoid Muslims looked at me. And right that moment the smoke alarm triggered. I just got on with my pissing and left. Now on Saturday I decided, well why not go into the toilet at the Ilac Centre again just to establish once and for all if I'm imagining things. To be honest I've never been fully sure whether I'm a paranoid nut job or not. But I reckoned if the smoke alarm went off again, then this timeI would consider that as ontological proof that, one, I've been marked for attention by the Muslims. And, two, their influence extends over the present toilet attendant in the Ilac Centre. I walked into the toilet. At the outer door a Muslim Arab looked at me and looked down quickly. As I entered the toilet area, the broom from the oriental toilet attendant was clattering to the floor. He'd literally sprinted for his work station having been alerted by text by the Muslim outside. And the smoke alarm rang out loud and clear and true. I waited outside the cubicle for the oriental toilet attendant to emerge."
"Oriental Heelers. Not Muslim."
"Indonesian and Malaysian Mussies look oriental. But he doesn't have to be Muslim to be cooperating with Muslims in the low level harassment of Irish people. Anyway the oriental toilet attendant came out and looked a bit shook when he saw me. I asked him in a loud voice why the alarm was ringing. He shrugged. And he smiled. I asked again a little louder. He said: Is smoke alarm. I went through the motions. Why is the smoke alarm going off every time I come in here? Where's the manager? He did some more shugging and smiling and said: Manager is Andrew; Is his day off. I did a bit more shouting. He  was actually walking around me in a circle, smirking. I demanded that he stop circling me. I walked to the door. He followed me out and went over to the Muslim Arab who had signalled my approach. As I walked away the oriental toilet attendant called after me: Sir sir, he my boss, he my boss. I called back with all the grandeur of an offended Mini Mouse: You're a disgrace. Twenty minutes later I was engaged in the light hearted discourse with the proselysing Muslims outside the GPO on O'Connell Street that I've told you about already. There you go Basil. You were right. There was more to the story."
At that moment Basil's mobile phone rang with its famous irritating sonic tremulo.
"Sorry Heelers I'd better take this," he said apologetically reaching for the phone. "Hello Austin. No I'm busy. No, I don't care if Doctor Evil is on the loose and threatening a new and more dastardly plan to destroy the world. It will have to wait. I'm in a meeting with Heelers. I'll call you later."
He hung up and looked across at me waiting expectantly for some further life affirming insight into the serenely beautiful and cosmically peaceful religion of Islam.
"There's worse things out there than Doctor Evil," I mused staring into the middle distance.