The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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

Saturday, April 13, 2019

who shot mark steyn

(Season Finale. Cliff hanger episode of the The Heelers Diaries.)

Scene: Mark Steyn is strolling at evening with Fox News presenter Tucker Carlson.

Steyn: "All my life I've dreamed of finding a way to block out the sun."

Tucker: "What are you talking about?"

Steyn: "Oh nothing. It's probably just Heelers trying to telegraph with his usual sledgehammer subtlety that this is a parody of a famous episode of the Simpsons cartoon. But who the hell knows!"

Tucker: "Oh right. See you on the show tonight."

Steyn: "What will we be talking about?"

Tucker: "We'll be trying to defend President Trump."

Steyn: "From who?"

Tucker: "From himself."

Steyn: "Ha, ha. ha. Good one Tuck-ahh. See you tonight."

(Camera cuts to billionaire Gary Katz who is talking to his attorney Ron Snurdlebaum.)

Gary Katz: "Steyn is suing me for what? Breach of what? He called me what?"

Ron: "Let's just say lots of money, breach of contract and not nice things."

Katz: "Not nice things? Like what?"

Ron: "A cockwomble was the nicest thing he called you."

Katz: "I don't even know what that is. Can I win?"

Ron: "No you'll lose. Eventually."

Katz: "Any solutions?"

Ron: "You could pay him what you owe him."

Katz and Ron: "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ho. ho, ho. ho, ho, ho, hee, heeee, ha, ha, ha, ha, heeeeeeeeeeee, ho, ho, ha, ha, ha, ha, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

(Camera cuts to Mark Steyn's office in Lower  Mahogangy. I mean Lower Manhattan. Mark Steyn is seated at his plush mahogganey desk. Mahoganey? Mahoneygangey? Monogamy? Mahogany. There you go.)

FX: Buzzer on mahogany desk intercom.

Steyn: "Yes Maisie. What is it?"

Maisie (his secretary, bespectacled, tigerish and repressed): It's a mahogany desk intercom. So you can talk to me without me coming into the room.

Steyn: "Oh right... (Musing to himself.) Why can't the Bespectacled, Tigerish and Repressed Secretarial Agency send me better people?"

Maisie: "There's a James Healy to see you sir."

Steyn: "A what? Who? Never heard of him."

(Sound of scuffling. Door is flung open.)

Maisie (attempting to interpose herself between a would be interloper and the office.): "You can't come  in here. You can't. Sorry sir. He pushed his way in."

Steyn: "Is this parody to be written entirely in cliches?.. What is the meaning of this intrusion. State your name and your business."

James: "I'm James Healy."

Steyn: "Who? What? Where? Speak up man. What do you want?"

James: "You referenced me on your website. My analysis of the trials of Michael Jackson."

Steyn: "What are you talking about?"

James: "I had written that Michael Jackson's voice as a child was worth a billion dollars a year to a record company. I said that it seemed possible someone, a parent or a record company executive or a doctor or some admixture of those, had decided to administer female growth hormones to Michael Jackson when he was still a child in order to preserve the billion dollar tremulous note in his voice which might otherwise have been gone at puberty and become a one dollar nothing note. I suggested that if any adult did that to a little boy they would be at least partially responsible for any later derangements produced in the behaviour of that little boy when he grew up."

Steyn: "You're raving. I can't understand a word you say. Who are you? What are you doing in my office?"

James: "You quoted me on your website. But you attributed my views to what you called 'some guy on the internet.' I just want you to put the record straight."

Steyn: "You're talking gibberish man. Completely incomprehensible. I can't understand a word he says. The man's off his rocker. Maisie get security and have him thrown out."

(Awkward few moments while Steyn and James wait for security to arrive. Stage business with being awkward and saying nothing. Looking out window. Whistling. Heelers scratching his (Heelers's) bum. Etc.)

James: "Eh..."

Steyn (brightly and relieved): "Yes?"

James: "No. I thought I had one there. It's gone."

Steyn: "Oh"

(More business waiting. Steyn whistles disconsolately. James unties and ties a shoelace. The security men arrive.)
 
Steyn: "Ah there you are. Well, what are you waiting for? Hustle him out."

(Security men begin hustling James from the room.)

James: "Why won't you listen to reason. Wait. Go easy. Ouch. Hey. That's an expensive Aunty Bernadette special shirt. Steynnnnn listennnnn tooooo meeee. Ouchhhhhhh. Mahoganyyyyyy."

(And he's gone.)

(Camera cuts to Senator Goodlooking Ocasio Cortez who is talking to her laywer Rick Snurdlebaum.)

Senator Ocasio Cortez: "Mark Steyn said what about me? Aieee caramba. El bastardo gringo. Can I sue him?"

Rick: "Not exactly. But you can sue James Healy for attributing abject pseudo hispanic cliches to you. People who sue Steyn tend to lose."

Senator Ocasio Cortez: "Ay yi yi. No es bueno. Heelers, he 'as, 'ow you say, no moneee."

(Camera cuts to Mark Steyn getting into elevator in his office building. Five armed Jihadis cram into the elevator with him. They are wielding machine guns, hand grenades, and knives in their teeth. James Healy also gets into the elevator. Steyn has been sued by so many Jihadis attempting to criminalise him using specious hate speech laws that he recognises every one of the Muslims in the lift. He greets them with beautiful Saudi Arabian pronunciation of their names.)

Steyn: "Ah Mohammed Abd Rezak, how are you today?"

First Mohammed: "Fine thank you Mr Steyn."

Steyn: "And Mohammed Bin Amrasser. It's good see you."

Second Mohammed: (nervously) "Ha, ha. Thank you Mr Steyn."

Steyn: "And Mohammed Ibrahim Buisir. It's been a while. How are things with Al Qaeda in Ireland?"

Third Mohammed: "Very well, thank you Mr Steyn."

Steyn: And Mohammed Mansoor Uddin. You old rogue. Raped any women in taxis lately?"

Fourth Muslim: "Only three. That is to say, three I was caught for."

Steyn: "Oh right. And Mohammed Bin-Al-Shayyib-Andrew-Boko-Shingani, how's the famous those who save you will kill you hospital racket going?"

Fifth Muslim: "Very good Mr Steyn. Thank you for asking."

(Steyn turns to James Healy. There's clearly no one else left to greet.)

Steyn: "Er, eh. Um..."

James: "For crying out loud. I'm James Healy. You just threw me out of your office barely half an hour ago. Oh come on. Your secretary was there. We did some schtick about mahogany. You called security. You must remember."

Steyn: "Mahogany. I think I'd remember that. You must be mistaken. What an odd fellow! Who is he?"

Mohammeds (in unison): How would we know? 

(Muslims and Steyn laugh companionably.)

(Lift door opens. Steyn exits. Muslims troop out one by one. The last Muslim is pulling a small field howitzer. James Healy emerges from the lift alone. He stands there clenching and unclenching his fists.)

(Camera cuts to climate change scientist Michael Mann's office. Michael Mann is talking to his attorney/lawyer Cedric Snurdlebaum The Third.)

Cedric: "The truth is we can only keep Steyn tied up in litigation for so long. He exposed your climate change hoax. That's not a crime. I mean what Steyn did is not a crime. But people were bound to figure out the climate change con eventually. It was good fun while it lasted. Let it go."

Michael Mann: (grimly) I will never let it go. I'm gonna take my hockey stick and shove it where the sun don't shine. I mean where the sun don't shine on Mark Steyn. Up his bum. Not up myself, you understand."

(Camera cuts to Mark Steyn in the streets of Manhattan.)

Steyn: (directly to camera in stagey actory voice) Oh I forgot my keys. I'll have to go back to the office and get them."

(Verious camera shots of Steyn walking, humming to himself, entering Steyn Towers, going up in the lift, opening his office door, switching on the light.)

(Reveal camera shot. James Healy is in Mark Steyn's office. He has daubed the walls with slogans all of which contain the name James Healy. Such classics as "James Healy was here," "James Healy rules," "James Healy vandalised this office," "all work and no play make James Healy a dull boy," agus ar eile. That means etc in Irish. I don't want to keep repeating etc every time I need to say etc. Suffice it to say the name "James Healy" predominates in the graffiti.)

Steyn: "Who the hell are you?"

(Camera zooms in on my face which is contorting with Shakespearian significance.)
(Caption: To be continued next season.)
(End credits)

Friday, April 12, 2019

today they said


Mark Steyn (political commentator/humourist/essayist): "The blogs are finished."

James Healy: "Well in that case, I wish he'd stop plagiarising mine. Him and his appurtenances, Mr Snerdleys, it's the Islamophobia got small, and the makers of the matrix should by sued by the French philosopher Fred Le Baines who said it all before. Or should I say him and my appurtenances, Mr Snurdlebaums, it's the internet got small, and the makers of the DaVinci Code should be sued by the little girl who told me at my brother's ordination in 1998 that the Son of God was married to Mary Magdalene. Ho hum."

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

all the gold in the world

Standing at the bend in the river below Kilcullen town.
I am watching the blue heron.
He is sitting on a branch above the water.
A Muslim woman appears at my shoulder
She has been walking quietly in the dusk.
I did not hear her approach.
She is wearing that garment called the hijab which is a sign of her faith.
"What is he?" she says, pointing to the heron.
"He is a sign of the blessedness of this place," I answer.

Tuesday, April 09, 2019

endymion

Someone had placed a sign on one of the ground floor bedroom windows of a building near where I stroll.
The sign read:

"A wise man lives here.
Knock on the window.
You may ask him three questions."

I liked those odds.
Stepping over the flowerbed onto the grass, I knocked on the window.
An Adonis like young man drew back the curtain, all tousled hair and vaguely goonish Germanic something or otheriness.
This was the wise man.
I bowed my head humbly and without introduction or preamble said: "What is the meaning of life?"
The young man replied: "The meaning of life is the search for life."
I said: "Is heaven real?"
He said: "Of course it is. Just look upwards."
I said: "Is Jesus real?"
He said: "Yes but I think he was only a man."

I thanked him and went upon my way.