plague journal 3 bye bye mister humble irish pie
Writing ferociously in my kitchen.
Farmer Jones taps on the window.
"Are you alright?" he calls.
Having only lately accepted that there may be a teensy weensy bit of reality to the Corona Virus crisis, I struggle to answer civilly.
"Of couse I'm alright," I growl.
"What are you doing?" quoth he.
"Writing a letter of apology to the Prime Minister," I say scowling.
"He'll enjoy that," sez my visitor who purports to have a vague acquaintanceship with the PM.
"I hope he does."
"Are you embarassed you got it so wrong?"
I looked up.
I'd been thinking about this.
My answer was prepared.
"Not really. It's all a bit like old times for me. Back in the 1980s I stalwartly refused to contribute so much as a penny to Bob Geldoff's heroic Live Aid efforts to feed the starving millions in Africa on the grounds that what he was actually doing was propping up the communist government of Ethiopia who had killed more of their people than the famine ever did and who had in fact caused the famine with their Soviet sponsored dictatorship."
"Yah bad bollix."
"I was one of three people who refused to have anything to do with Live Aid. The other two were a pair of British Bolshevick pop singers who called themselves Tears For Fears. Me and Tears For Fears had both opted out of Geldoff's effort. My motivation for refusing to support Live Aid being as mentioned that Geldoff was propping up the communist party of Ethiopia. Tears For Fears motivation for refusing to support Live Aid was that Geldoff was just a big capitalist. Hilarious no. But we agreed on not supporting him. Although even Tears For Fears eventually relented and helped Geldoff with a follow up charitable effort called Run The World the year after."
Farmer Jones wearies of my anecdotage and departs with a wave, leaving me to my meditations.
I return to my letter.
My face is a study in ruefullness.
How to apologise to Prime Minister Leo Varadkar.
Ah gentle travellers of the internet back in my Revenue Commissioners day, we had a phrase for this type of situation,
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.
We used to say it when we'd hit a citizen with a huge tax bill in order to finance our vast pay rises, extravagant terms and conditions, and ridiculous pension entitlements..
It means:
Perchance even this will one day be pleasant to remember.
Farmer Jones taps on the window.
"Are you alright?" he calls.
Having only lately accepted that there may be a teensy weensy bit of reality to the Corona Virus crisis, I struggle to answer civilly.
"Of couse I'm alright," I growl.
"What are you doing?" quoth he.
"Writing a letter of apology to the Prime Minister," I say scowling.
"He'll enjoy that," sez my visitor who purports to have a vague acquaintanceship with the PM.
"I hope he does."
"Are you embarassed you got it so wrong?"
I looked up.
I'd been thinking about this.
My answer was prepared.
"Not really. It's all a bit like old times for me. Back in the 1980s I stalwartly refused to contribute so much as a penny to Bob Geldoff's heroic Live Aid efforts to feed the starving millions in Africa on the grounds that what he was actually doing was propping up the communist government of Ethiopia who had killed more of their people than the famine ever did and who had in fact caused the famine with their Soviet sponsored dictatorship."
"Yah bad bollix."
"I was one of three people who refused to have anything to do with Live Aid. The other two were a pair of British Bolshevick pop singers who called themselves Tears For Fears. Me and Tears For Fears had both opted out of Geldoff's effort. My motivation for refusing to support Live Aid being as mentioned that Geldoff was propping up the communist party of Ethiopia. Tears For Fears motivation for refusing to support Live Aid was that Geldoff was just a big capitalist. Hilarious no. But we agreed on not supporting him. Although even Tears For Fears eventually relented and helped Geldoff with a follow up charitable effort called Run The World the year after."
Farmer Jones wearies of my anecdotage and departs with a wave, leaving me to my meditations.
I return to my letter.
My face is a study in ruefullness.
How to apologise to Prime Minister Leo Varadkar.
Ah gentle travellers of the internet back in my Revenue Commissioners day, we had a phrase for this type of situation,
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.
We used to say it when we'd hit a citizen with a huge tax bill in order to finance our vast pay rises, extravagant terms and conditions, and ridiculous pension entitlements..
It means:
Perchance even this will one day be pleasant to remember.
posted by heelers | 7:11 PM
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