kilcullen easter

 

the lambing time

evanescent leaves

provincial poets stitching worn out rhymes

into patchwork quilted semaphores of praise

all of these

mist like matting on muddy fiels

old men rejoicing in campaniles

all of these

everything that breathes is on its knees

for the coming of the lord

peace

let them eat quiz shows

The professional woman looked concerned.

"I've been thinking about your financial situation."

At her words the noble Heelers perked up considerably and sat back in his chair.

Around us the cafe cacaphoned with life.

She's loaded and something in my water told me that at long last the sun was coming out.

In my mind's eye I could see the United States cavalry cresting a nearby hill waving great wodges of cash.

The professional lady continued.

"I was thinking you should go on a television quiz show."

There was a moment of stillness in my universe.

"Are you serious?"

"You've very intelligent. You'd do well."

"That's your big idea to help me?"

"I think it's a good idea."

"You're thinking of the movie Slumdog Millionaire. In the words of the kid from ET: This is reality Greg."

"What have you got to lose?"

"Do you not remember? The quiz show solution to Heelers cashflow problems was already tried thirty years ago. I went on Rapid Routette."

"How much did you win?"

"It didn't turn out well."

"How much?"

"My nickname among you guys after the show was James Twenty Pounds Healy. The clue is in the title."

"I think I went with you to the audition for that."

"You did."

"And was there something else that happened? There's something at the back of my mind I was annoyed about."

"Yes. I forced you to go to Star Trek Five at the cinema after the audition. And you said: Please don't force me to go to a Star Trek film. And I was thinking: If I can just get her into the cinema, she's going to love it. And you did love it. And I hated it. It was a grotty little pseud parody of religion with a Klingon Messiah and so on. Truly tastelessly awful."

"Was there something else that happened that day?"

"Yes. I bought you flowers."

"You didn't really."

"I did. Outside the cinema I saw a flower seller and raced over to her and bought a bunch. Then I ran back to you and thrust the flowers in your face. And you said: What's all this? And I said: You must be wearing Fucking Stupid. And you said: Whaaaat? And I said: When a man you've met hundreds of times before suddenly buys you flowers, that's Fucking Stupid. It was a parody of the ad for Impulse fragrance spray. The only funny joke of my youth. That and the time in a resaurant where you asked: What are Oranges In Cointreau? And I said: It's when a bunch of oranges burst into the restaurant with machine guns shouting The oranges are in control."

"That rings a bell."

"You remember it?"

"Not exactly. I remember lots of bad jokes."

"Anyway, Rapid Roulette wasn't the only TV quiz show I went on. I was on Fifteen To One on British television. The Brits flew me to London for the audition. Strictly speaking I wasn't actually on the show itself just a simulacrum. We stood around the studio with the cameramen in place and the lights people and the host and got sample questions."

"What happened?"

"They weeded me out. The host was a famous orange guy of the time called William G Stewart. He asked me a sample question that went: What is the sacramental vessel used by the priest at the Roman Catholic ceremony of the  Mass to consecrate wine?"

"And you didn't know that?"

"I said goblet."

"What would you have said?"

"I'd have said Chalice."

"You'd have been right. If you get any more great ideas about helping me with my finances, let me know."

"I will."

let them eat pork chops

 

The woman was involved in a food distribution programme in the nearby town of Newbridge.

"Are you encountering any genuine hardship?" I asked her.

"James you wouldn't be believe the hardship that's out there," she answered.

Back home I found two letters on my kitchen table.

The first was a bill from the electricity company for eleven hundred Euro.

My usual bill would be about 150 Euro and, given it takes me a while to pay it off, the bi monthly total is often hovering at an accumulated debt of 400.

So the new bill is quite a leap.

And this is before the electricity companies much telegraphed price rises which are due to kick in later this month.

"Well, well, well," I murmured. "This is a pickle."

The other letter was a Census Form for a government mandated nationwide survey currently underway.

The Census Form informs me that the whole process will be "quick, easy and compulsory."

See how they just slipped compulsory in there with quick and easy.

Like a woman mentioning her boyfriend in casual conversation five minutes after she first meets me.

Just slipped it in there.

Fiendishly cunning these Irish government Mandarins.

"How compulsory is compulsory?" I asked myself aloud being in no way inclined to jump through hoops for any known brand of governmental citrus fruit.

Reading the census form I saw the vital bit of information in the form of a threat: Non compliance, ie failure to fill out the form, may result in a fine of 44,400 Euro.

Ha, ha, ha, I thought defiantly, they've about as much chance of collecting that from me as the electricity company has of getting paid their fantasy football league bill.

But what's with the amount?

I mean how did they decide what would be the appropriate punishment for a felon refusing to fill out a census form?

44,400 Euro.

Some grand panjandrum with a bit of a fetish for the number four in the Department of Fines thinks I, reaching for a pen and filling out the census.

I resisted the urge to write "Mind your own ****ing business," to various intrusive questions including some real posers about the number of rooms, the heating system, insulation and date of construction of my house.

My eyebrows went up a notch for the bit of the form that asked me to define myself in racial terms.

The form prompted me with choices like: White Irish, Black Irish, White Irish Traveller and other more exotic variants.

Not since the Department of Social Welfare asked me a few months ago on an Unemployment Benefit form about something they referreed to as my sexual orientation, have I been so struck by the strange quasi mystical vicissitudes which gild the under testicles of my existence.

I mean I'd understand if Department of Social Welfare were trying to set me up with a date or something.

But for an unemployment claim!

At the time as with the Census Form today, I'm wondering what agenda we are catering to here.

Whose agenda?

In any case I don't define myself in terms of ethnicity.

I'm Irish.

We're all Irish.

If I was to answer the question precisely as to skin colour I would have needed an option for Generally Red Faced Occasionally Sallow With Purplish Cheeks In Cold Weather.

At the end of the Census Form there is a space for the citizen to comment on the Ireland of today.

These comments will be part of a time capsule for future generations to read but which is not to be opened for a hundred years.

Gentle travellers of the internet, you don't have to wait a hundred years to read mine.

I wrote in the time capsule segment of the Irish government Census Form:

"The fact that you are threatening people with impoverishing fines if they do not wish to take part in your increasingly frivolous and increasing frequent Censuses is an indicator of the creeping Sovietism in Irish society and government. As is your legalisation of abortion and the current de facto practice of Euthanasia by the Health Boards hospice service."

bleak heart

 

a boy stands in a field above the town

he does not know what the years will bring

dark night touches him and the rain

his spirit leaps in his imagining

a man writes at table in the dark

he wonders of all things what we are

spirits creatures matter worse

pitched forth comets about a dying star

tell me if all time is one time

and what is was and will be

was the boy already corrupt as he looked upon the town

am i already dead as i write