The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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

Friday, February 17, 2017

last days at the fuhrer bunker

Ireland's Prime Minister Enda Kenny sits behind his oak desk at the Reichskanzlei.
Outside Irish Times howitzers are zeroing in on his location.
Ironic.
Once they were his allies in the dismemberment of unborn babies.
Scarcely seven years ago his secret Pact Of Steel Scalpels with the Irish Times had allowed him to promise the Irish electorate not to legalise abortion and then when elected to go right ahead and legalise it without any critical reportage on the matter ever appearing in the national press.
Now they too have turned on him.
Enda Kenny looks ashen.
He is a ghost of himself.
His hands tremble.
Around him the last few clinging acolytes of his government cluster.
There are no big names.
The grey men and hagerdotal women of the Fine Gael party smile at their great leader ingratiatingly.
But the Fuhrer is a broken man.
Nothing can conceal it.
"You are all to blame," Enda Kenny shrieks suddenly, thumping his hand down on an upturned stapler. "If you had faith, not faith in the Hebrew God but faith in me, if you had faith, vee could have held on to power forever. By which I mean I could have held on to power forever. You haff failed. All of you. You are all responsible. You ****ing dumkopfs."
The Fuhrer is barely coherent. He is in the grip of a volcanic rage. Many of his underlings will remember it as the most terrifying fury they have ever seen.
"Vere is my teddy bear?" he screams. "Never mind. Ireland has failed. It has proved itself unworthy of me. And unworthy of Teddy. And unworthy of existing. If I must go then it is better that Ireland also ceases to exist. You are all... all... all to blame. You haff failed the test of rassenhygiene. You haff been tested and you vere not fit to live. You are all false. You dishonour ze Blueshirts you wear. Ziss travesty of a nation must die. Ze Irish Times vill rule now in ze rubble of our civilisation. Ze Bolsehvicks are ze master race after all. It is better ziss vay. Schweinen. You are all traitors. You are all schweinhunds. You are all insert Germanic term of opprobrium here."
He collapsed on his desk in a heap.
Exhausted.
There is a pregnant pause which doesn't last long enough for the Fine Gaelers to abort it.
Abruptly Enda Kenny sits up.
A light dawns on his ruined features.
"Unless," he mutters fervently, "unless... unless we announce a referendum on some arcane sexual practice and give the peasantry the option of deeming it marriage. Like we did with Same Sex marriage. Only more radical. Zat vould distract zem right enough. Ze fools vould tzink they had gained something and would positively relish ze added opportunity to jeer their forefathers as old fogeysteiners. Zey love zat. Zey love jeering ze past. Ze fools. So a referendum elevating some sexual practice to ridiculous levels. Let me see. I know. Equal rights for masturbaters. From now on ze dignity of masturbation vill have ze status of matrimony. We'll call it Marriage Equality For Solitary Sexual Unions. We'll hold a referendum on giving masturbation the status of marriage with full inheritance rights for any one having sex with himself. Yes. Yes. Get me George Soros on line one. He's always good for a little finance and crowd orchestration on these matters. Vee vill need to create ze illusion zat people actually vant ziss. Get me RTE on line two. And vee vill need a slogan for ze tee shirts of course. How about: Enda Says Relax. Yes I can see it now. Vee can still pull it off. This vill distract ze peasants from ze corruption of my police force, from my kleptocracy, from the collapse of immigration law, from me permitting drug dealing child abusing people trafficking IRA mafias and their associates in Cosa Nostra, the Triads, Al Qaeda, the Muslim Brotherhood, Muslim gangs generally, Tinker Gangs and the Russian mob, to divide Ireland up as a feudal state among themselves while seizing control of cities, towns and villages the length and breadth of the country; it vill distract ze peasants from my legalisation of abortion, from my war against Christian values, from my acquiescence to the extortionist hegemony of rackateering trade unions, from my failure to act against white collar criminal Denis O'Brien, from my cancellation of Denis O'Brien's newspapers' billion dollar debts to Allied Irish Banks, from my illegal nationalisation of the worthless Allied Irish Banks which had gone bust because Denis O'Brien wouldn't pay his newspapers' debts to it, and from my own near cosmic incompetence in every possible field of probity, governance and integrity. I mean I don't vant to go casting no aspoyshuns. (Against myself.) Ah. A referendum on full marital status for masturbation. In ziss focquing country zat vas alvays going to be ze key. I am ein genius. Ziss vill make everyzing okay again."

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