The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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

Monday, September 07, 2015

war of the woefuls i mean worlds

Disgraced former Justice Minister of the Republic of Ireland Alan Shatter has written a poem about the current refugee crisis.
Just when I thought the tragedy couldn't get any worse.
Hoo baby.
Oh the humanity.
It's hurting the back of my eyes.
The poem was published in the bankrupt Sunday Independent newspaper this weekend and is a predictable piece of let-em-have-irish-passports hand wringing.
We might call Shatter's rose tinted delusionalism the modern equivalent of Let Them Eat Cake.
I mean it makes me want to cut his head off.
Although to be fair to Marie Antoinette when she said "let them eat cake" re the starving peasants, she never actually advocated handing her country over to a seventh century death cult itching to do to Europe what it has just done in full technicolour glory to Syria and to every other country on earth with significant Muslim populations.
I'd say Marie Antoinette had a good deal more class, intellect and discernment than Alan Shatter.
And I'd bet anything she was a better poet.
Nor did she advocate allowing the people trafficking IRA, Cosa Nostra, Chinese Triads, and the Russian Mafia to define immigration law.
It took atheistic liberals to do that.
Now let me see.
The Muslims shoot their own countries to pieces and atheistic liberals like Alan Shatter see an instant solution in letting them come here.
I'm not buying.
His poem is not without a certain striking turn of phrase though.
To be more precise, the poem contains a grand total of one rather striking turn of phrase.
The striking turn of phrase is repeated as a refrain between verses.
I caution you, should you seek it out, that most of the poem is without merit.
A pious, fervourless, faux sentimental exercise in ye aforementioned hand wringing.
But that one striking phrase amidst all the hand wringing did catch my eye and made me go: "Well maybe he can write a bit."
The phrase stayed with me all day.
The phrase is "... and still they come."
Tonight on the child pornography station MTV, I heard the phrase again.
It is the refrain in Jeff Lynn's 1970's masterpiece War Of The Worlds.
So Alan Shatter can now add plagiarism to his list of crimes. (Jailing honest whistle blower police officers on trumped up charges, colluding with former Chief of Police Martin Callinan to create legal vexations for Shatter's political opponents, generally p-ssing me off, etc etc.)
Ho hum.
The charity novelty music video version of War Of The Worlds which I am hoping to plagiarise myself from Jeff Lynn and the immortal Shatter would go as follows.

Richard Burton (the narrator):
"No one would have believed in the first years of the 21st century that barbarian Jihadis from Arabia would threaten the entire planet with a seventh century ideology of ritual enslavement. And yet they drew their plans against us..."

Instrumental bit:
"Ner ner ner
Ner ner ner
Niddle ner niddle ner
Ner ner ner
Niddle ner
Niddle ner
Nerdle nerrrr
Nerdle nerrr
Ner ner ner
Ner ner ner
Ner ner
Ner ner
Ner ner "

James Healy (singing):
"The chances of a world wide terror army coming from Arabia,
Are a million to one they said.
Ahhh ahhhhhh
The chances of a hundred million Jihadis coming from Arabia
Are a million to one
But still
They come
-ome -ome -ome"

"Nerdle ner nerdle ner
Ner ner ner
Ner ner
Ner ner ner ner ner"


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