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, January 01, 2018

ring out wild bells

(Special guest blogger Alfred Lord Tennyson)

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out the pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Sunday, December 31, 2017

deleted episodes

As we reached the end of the year it seemed that every day I was cutting scenes from this website on the grounds that I already had too many enemies and was now no longer hiring for the position.
The good news is they're all here.
Yes folks.
The censored out takes from recent episodes of the Heelers Diaries that were considered too fruity for popular consumption.
They make ideal new year's gifts for someone you hate.

23rd December 2017
Kilcullen church for a carol service. As I enter the church, Gearoid O'Brolchain, my old school teacher from Third Class, emerges from the shadows at the back and proffers a hand. He is master of ceremonies for the night. Apparently they couldn't find a believing Christian to do it. I look around warily for his wife. No sign of her. All clear. I greet him thusly: "Oh pale Clare man, how thou hast conquered..."
Without batting an eye lid he answers in fluent Irish, the old language of Ireland which once he had taught me.
"Ah Dia duit a Sheamais. Ta failte romhat, Tar isteach agus suigh sios."
Simple but effective. How well he knows me. I am completely disarmed by the courtly greeting in Irish and make my way humbly to a pew.
What I had been about to say goes unsaid.
I had been about to say: "Oh pale Clare man, how thou hast conquered... The nuns driven out of Saint Vincent's hospital. Pharmacies distributing abortion pills to children. Our parliament debating ever new and more monstrous ways to persuade Irish people to kill the unborn."

24th December 2017
Quaffing coffee in cafe. Bill Thornton passing by my table, informs me that his gospel choir will not be performing tonight. "It's your cousin Hector," he exclaims, "he didn't want us there. The priests should do something about it."
Knowing nothing of which he speaks, I am yet unwilling to brook his criticism of the Padres.
"Sure the priests can't do anything about it for the same reason you can't Bill," I answer," they're just as afraid of Hector as you are."
Bill doesn't appreciate the wisdom of this remark as much as you might expect.
"People are angry," he tells me moving off smartly. "A lot of us won't be going to that church again."
A rueful look creases my handsome pre raphaelite features.
"I don't think I've ever seen any of the shower of atheists in the gospel choir actually attending church when they weren't performing there," I murmur. "I think maybe, just maybe, the two thousand year old Christian religion can manage without them."

25th December 2017
What on earth was Hector thinking of? Up to the this moment I have believed that time and fortune favoured him in his battle with 90 year old Mrs Von Horst for control of the organ loft. (Who controls the organ loft, controls the legions; Who controls the legions, controls Rome; Who controls Rome controls the world. - Tacitus note) But to open a second front now of all times. In the bleak midwinter. When he was winning. And against the gospel choir of all people. Nobody ----'s with the gospel choir. They're vengeful -------'s. The desperate smiles are the clue. They smile like they've got rabies. And the Dracula cloaks. It's gotta be hubris on Hector's part. Shades of 41 when old Aydolf looked to have the Brits bet but kept declaring war on new enemies, you know soft touches like the Americans and the Russkies. If I ever become a film maker I shall make a musical comedy about the organ loft situation and call it Oh What A Lovely War.

26th December 2017
An Open Letter to all local councillors and politicians in the Sinn Fein party.
Dear Sirs and Madams. Why do you do it? Why do you lend yourselves to supporting a front operation for the IRA mafia? Some of you are decent people. Why do you lend your good names and family reputations to a party that is financed by rackateering? I know how it started. The IRA found itself cash rich during the 1990's from its drug dealing, people trafficking and bank robbing operations. IRA capos realised that with this amount of cash they might actually be able to buy an election. But to gain a majority in parliament they would have to persuade people to join the party. The problem for them was that decent people traditionally won't give their spit to the IRA or its proxies in Sinn Fein. People with even the most tenuous of consciences refuse to stand for Sinn Fein at election time, never mind vote for them. And here was the IRA with enough money to open offices and finance campaigns in every constituency in the land. It was all there for the taking. But they needed candidates. There was an urgency to it to. Making billion dollar profits from poisoning Irish people with drugs, meant a certain pressure to hide such exponential amounts of dirty money. With a parliamentary majority, they could find a pretext to legalise drug use. Medicinal marijuana say, and hey presto. The dirty money is clean money. They'd still be making it from the murder of generations. But there would no longer be a law against that. This is where you came in. You took the IRA's shilling, ie the drug money which it makes from poisoning generations of Irish people. You gave the IRA a new face. You gave it an unprecedented electoral success in the Republic of Ireland. The irony is that many of you are now lodging formal complaints to the police and your Sinn Fein party as the mobsters you work with engage in the harassment, intimidation and bullying tactics they traditionally have inflicted on the Irish people, but now directed towards you yourselves. Here's a thought. Don't complain. Walk away. Form a political party that is not financed by poisoning children and adults with drugs. Ireland is looking for alternatives to the main stream parties. Why not get together and provide such an alternative without profiting from the poisoning of anyone?
Best wishes.
James Healy

27th December 2017
Flicking through the channels on the sexevision.
I alight on MTV.
Tom Jones is singing an updated version of the Young New Mexican Puppeteer.
I rather like it.
It goes:
"The young Hungarian billionaire
He saw the people all living there
He thought that maybe they would listen to
The Soros foundation telling them what to
So he got some liberals and he got some wood
He paid some a bribes and a he was good
And folks came running from far and near
To do the bidding of the young Hungarian billionaire
Now the puppet master was funny
And he made the people laugh
So much better to worship money
Than believing all that Christian stuff
Oh the young Hungarian billionaire
He saw the people all living there
He thought that maybe they would listen to
Liberal atheists telling them what to do
So he got some currency and he got some gold
He financed some political parties who'd do what they're told
And people came running from far and near
To hear the young Hungarian billionaire."

28th December 2017
News coming in of government moves to restrict commentary on electronic media. The bankrupt abortionist anti Catholic media groups, Independent Newspapers, RTE and the Irish Times will support it of course. It's the only business model they have left having jettisoned their readership in a forty year attempt to sneer Christianity out of existence. Oh what a rum diddle. The Irish government of Prime Minister Leo Varadkar is permitting Irish children to be taught in school that they may have one or more of 64 different genders and that if they wish to choose a different one, whatever one popped into their heads a moment ago, they can begin transitioning to it at the age of five and at the age of fifteen they can have a mutilating sex change operation which doesn't work and which requires them to spend the rest of their lives on daily doses of mind altering cocktails of hormonal drugs which also don't work, this I tells ee, this Leo Varadkar, this very one introducing this level of speculation, vitiation and violation. about personhood and identity to five year olds, mark you, this same Leo Varadkar I note, is the one proposing to give himself control over what is said on the internet.

29th December 2017
Ireland's individually and institutionally corrupt police force has announced a year of successes against gangland. The cops say they have seized 29 guns and several cargoes of drugs. So a year of success for the boys in blue. Somebody should tell the gangs. Amid all this law enforcement success, the gangs are still  killing, and raping and drugging and poisoning as if they didn't realise they're losing the battle. And of course no mention of any arrests. It's far safer arresting guns and parading the drug hawls which the gangs deliberately let you find to create the illusion you're doing your job, than actually arresting the hoodlums eh fellas? Easier anyway. Easier I mean than actually incarcerating permanently the IRA skang gangs who are terrorising every town, village and city in Ireland on a daily basis with impunity.

30th December 2017
The Story Of My Quarrel With Jorge Bergoglio
Pope Francis has declared that those who oppose his vision for the Catholic Church are traitors. Since I have reservations about Pope Frank, that is to say I'm uncertain of his bona fides as Pope and doubt the rightness and legality of his attempts to change the Our Father prayer, and utterly refute his attempts to incorporate his personal views on the death penalty into formal Catholic teaching, while being a bit nonplussed by the lightning strike on the Vatican the day he was "elected," and even more nonplussed when carrion crows slaughtered two doves he'd released from the windows of Saint Peter's and most nonplussed of all when he made the devil horns hand sign at a rally in the Philippines, since this, that, these and those, and since I am wary of his continual attempts to insert changes into church tradition via leaks in the press, and since I'm even more concerned as to why the most anti Catholic media groups on earth seem to adore him, since all of this, I suppose by traitor he means me. Hasn't he given us some merry times though! Why it's hardly two years since he was contextualising the Muslim murders of staff at a French satirical magazine by saying: "If someone insults my mother a punch awaits him." Hopefully none of the Cardinals, Bishops, priests, nuns, and millions of believing Christians past, present and future, whom he's just called traitor or whose mothers he has just called traitor, will adopt the same line.