Richard Bruton

As we look ahead to 2009 there are two things we can be certain of. The global economy will continue to take a massive diarrhoea infused dump on Ireland Inc. Secondly, and not far off the theme of the first certainty, Fine Gael’s Richard Bruton will continue in his quest to have every lavatory in Leinster House fitted with a beday. So far he has been pretty successful – the graph in the picture above shows levels of usage on Kildare Street. (The drop in the middle part of the graph was as a result of Jackie Healy-Rae’s episode of constipation in July). So will RB be our economic knight in shining armour in 2009? Probably not, but he might be.

Managed to get my hands on a FG internal memo put together by Bruton’s economic team of ex-Palin staff. I picked this baby up under a Freedom of Information Act request. Instead of giving FG money for the FOI I bartered for it with my 1995/1996 Premiership season sticker book collection (complete with three Eric Cantona's). Its an impressive document - as is the FG memo. Below is the gist of the Bruton's plan of action.

(1.) Halt construction completely of Dublin Airport Terminal 2. On its site put an army of unemployed construction workers,engineers,IFSC trolls,nurses, more HSE admin staff into labour by building this. Bruton’s team carried out a study on ancient Egyptian policies of macroeconomics, public/private spending, dealing with downturns, slavery etc and came to the conclusion that it is financially feasible to build this giant coffin for the next four cycles of Irish economic boom and bust. The memo states that “after watching the last couple of Prime Time Investigates the wage bracket of low paid jobs in Ireland is not that far off Ancient Egypt in the period 2500 BC to 2420 BC. This can work". There are two problems forseen by Bruton's little team of nerds. Firstly, what to do when Ireland starts its fifth economic cycle somewhere mid century and secondly, that we may have to deal with the Burren being completely empty after we have fucking annihilated it for all its limestone consistently for three decades.

Construction would begin late 2009 and be complete by somewhere mid 2042.The FG analysts took into account significant loses in manpower through plague, cholera and starvation. "You know the usual problems associated with subjugating a decent majority of the population into 17 hour workdays - kind of what its currently like to work in Londis". At this stage it would be ready to hold the remains of Garrett FitzGerald. This section of the memo finishes off with the line, “how fucking slick would it be to fly into Dublin Airport and be greeted by the sight of a 150 storey tall pyramid. Bad ass doesn’t even cover it”.

Bad-ass....indeed Mr.Bruton.

(2.)The memo agrees with the current government plan to invest a bit of cash into the broad ranging field of ‘science and technology’. Seeing as ‘science and technology’ in Ireland covers everything from curing cancer to creating sweet robots which can morph their arms into sharp objects, the FG paper advises “that the area of investment become more specific, i.e. Ireland’s first nuclear weapons program”. It goes on to state that, “Ireland has lost its competitiveness due to various factors such as the devaluing of the Sterling. There is very little chance that this competitiveness will return in the medium/long term".

"Therefore, we need to show our neighbours we mean fucking business and sticking a few ICBM’s on Erins Isle will do just that. If they (I’m guessing by ‘they’ FG means everyone) don’t buy our pigs and computer chips we will just have to burn their cities to the ground and poison their land with radiation for the next 200 years. This initiative also has the added benefit of keeping numerous poindexters in Irish labs busy for the next decade”.

A rigorous analysis of Game Theory is subsequently provided and this section of the paper concludes with the statement that “if Iran can do it, so can we, look at how many concessions those lads have got out of the Yanks and the Red Coats – in fact, we would be idiots NOT to do this”.

Terrifying stuff from the Blueshirts.

(Note: All of the above is premised on Bruton's party actually fiddling around with their groin area, realising they have a pair of testicals and strolling out of Leinster house, therefore forcing an election. Followed by FG then winning said election.)

Batt O'Keeffe

Batt O’Keeffe is a political enigma, kind of like Otto Von Bismarck. Except Batt hasn’t managed to piss off France for 20 years. Yet. Batt was made Minister for Education by Cowen a little while ago and like every single one of his education predecessors he has managed to get Kidare Street clogged up by slightly angry teachers on a weekday.

The reason Batt is a political enigma is because he hasn’t been all that honest with the Cork or Irish electorate. And more importantly the American electorate. What a shit load of people don’t know is that Mr.O’Keeffe was Ralph Nader’s running mate in the recent US presidential election. And that Batt O’Keeffe isn’t actually his real name. Matt Alves Olivera Gonzalez’ exploits in the land of the free can be found at www.votenader.org. Long story short - they lost - by a lot.

I managed to get an interview last week with Batt’s assistant Jose Huerro Maria Batistuta and questioned him about the double identity of Senor Gonzalez. “Yeah its all fucking true - we got lazy with the first name and just changed the first letter but we decided to go apeshit with the surname. The people of Cork haven't got a bleedin' clue that his real name is Matt Alves Olivera Gonzalez. Matt is also half Guatemalan–half Irish. Him and Ralphie were pretty happy with the twenty-four national votes they picked up on November 4th, especially the sixteen they got in Wisconsin". However, Batistuta did admit that two of the eight votes in West Virginia where from J1 students with forged election ballots that Batt had met on holidays last year.

Which would explain the picture above. Its himself on the US presidential campaign trail. Batt, not known for his geographical prowess, had apparently wandered across the 49th parallel and into Canada (he thought the thing behind him was the state flag of Vermont). According to press reports he gave a speech to the local Inuit population of Canuck province New Brunswick on the merits of ice. Batt promised New Brunswick that if elected VP he would “Give Vermont Ice”.

I moved on to question Batistuta about the ethics of his boss, the blatant lying to the people of Cork and if there are any more secrets that have been kept under wraps for the past two decades.

Batistuta: “Actually there are a lot of thing we have had to keep secret from the electorate but I wouldn’t like to go into them. All I can give you is one word: gerbiling. Also, lets be honest here, those yokes in Cork North West would not have voted for a man who spends his weekends re-enacting ancient Mayan bridal ceremonies in Fermoy".

The shit doesn’t stop there. While running with Nader Batt/Matt did some work for the Financial Regulator on their new advertising campaign. The regulators budget was 300k, but Batt was supposedly like ‘fuck this’ – so he offered 350k. Done deal.

“See most people don’t know that Matt has a PhD in ‘Subliminal Psychology’ from the Universidad del Valle de Guatemala”, noted Batistuta during the interview. “Matt knew this banking bail-out was coming,he could feel it ‘in his balls’ – as he told me. So he sorted the Financial Regulator out with their 'itsyourmoney' campaign.Making people believe that its ok to guarantee their money and savings with their own tax money – its sweet. And all we had to do was get two knobends on TV to fuck around with a touch screen monitor and look really happy at the end of the ad. Its worked a treat and not a murmur from Joe Sap Public. Why? Seven words...Matt Alves Olivera Gonzalez and his genius”.

Batt has retained his Secret Service presidential nominee detachment in Cork North West. Basically two blokes in a camper van outside his pad 24-7. There have been rumours that the paramilitary leftist wing of the INTO has reformed.

To finish off, it is largely thought that Batt made this happen.

John Gormley

There's John with a human sized elf. Is it any wonder that the State's finances are as about as healthy as Wiemar Germany when the Department of Environment has to bribe people to dress up as fictional creatures to promote a "greener Ireland". There's also too much good shit already on the interweb about this bloke. Like here, here and here.But I'll give it a lash - grows up in Limerick, becomes a TD in 1997 and goes on to make a tit of himself on RTE. Shown here...I stopped counting the number of times Gormley said the word no after 40 seconds in. Some of you Krusties out there will argue that the clip shows Gormley has conviction. My anus.

So apart from helping out with Irish-Sino relations, backtracking on Tara and standing beside elves what else does John do? John writes a blog - that's what he does. But he's been really really really busy lately so he just hasn't had time to keep it up to date. So I'm going to help him out. Here's his post for the 30th of September:

Last night I popped into bed at 10 after America's Next Top Model - I was out in a flash. Woke up to find two burly members of the Garda Siochana standing over my bed. Hope they didnt spot the manifestation below. They were causing a big hullabaloo because my phone had been on silent. Twenty four missed calls from Leno - "Jeez Louise", I exclaimed. Was on my way to Government buildings in no time - still slightly aroused - the girls had got their makeovers and were doing an underwear shoot in last night's episode of Top Model. Brian and Brian had got all this banking fuss sorted in no time and through all the dilly-dallying everywhere I managed to get a quick nap on Brian's sofa and finish myself off. Off to the Leisure Plex today.

With the above I think I helped out John with his blog, but for now I'm going to take a back seat and let John have his word. Gormley thinks he's down with the kids, like Cameron in the UK with his "I've got Radiohead on my ipod". I came across this interview with a bit of an auld google search. In my opinion the highlights are the following;

Have you been to the cinema recently, what did you see and was it any good?
I saw Once on DVD. It was OK.

Your idea of heaven?
Living in total harmony with nature.

By nature he means Fianna Fail. I would also like to point out that according to this interview John's uncle lives in a place called "Muff". I'll leave it at that so.

As for Gormley and his Greens the next few years (possbily months) are going to be a lot of rock and a hard place situations. Shit one. Story goes that Harney texted Gormley on the day before FF caved in about the over 70's medical card yoke with, "the worst day in government is always better than the best day in opposition". Trouble is you know Gormley fucking believes this 100%. The tree-huggers have spent so long trying to get into government that no amount of hypocrisy on motorways through heritage sites or shitting on our OAP's will make them break up their 'coalition of the willing' with FF.

You reckon its going to take a political debacle of epic proportions to make the Greens jump ship - like the government having to fork out my tax and every other dickhead's PAYE on bailing out a bank. My prediction, like its namesake in Iraq, this coalition is already fucked. Its only a matter of time before its bye bye to the Greens for another generation which should allow Gormley, bored out of his GM-free tree, to get back to his farcical blog.

Enda Kenny

In the fine words of Jay-Z, Enda Kenny "has 99 problems but a bitch ain't one". Yes yes, one of Enda's many problems is that he wears horrendously tight spandex pants while cycling, as evident in the photo above. Enda Kenny is the goober on the right by the way.Apparently he had just come off stabilisers that morning, which would explain the whole veering towards the side barrier.

Its getting pretty ridiculous at this stage but you have guessed it alright, yet again one of the finest politicians ever to emerge from Castlebar (out of 3, one being a JCB) started his career as a primary school teacher. He also picked up in the Dail from where his da left off. While teaching to some rugrats in 1975, he decided 'you know what, fuck it, I'm sick of bringing these shits on nature walks - Im off to Dublin 2'.And by Jaysus Enda hasn't looked back since. The Irish nation, which includes Fine Gael voters, haven't really got over that decision yet and its been 33 years....and counting. Kenny is now leader of Fine Gael. He is also, because of his 33 year stint, 'Father of the Dail' - listen I dont know even know where the fuck to start with that one.

Another one of Enda's 99 problems is that no matter how much Fianna Fail bollock up or blow election promises out their collective arse, he just can't seem to get his party elected to government. Morgan Tsvangirai of Zimbabwae, a legend amongst all men, has spent less time in opposition. And that's fucking saying something.

Now Enda has been trying. He has appealed to a wide range of voters before elections by promising such things as free Sex and the City DVD's to those thinking of voting for Varadkar (see previous post). In 2005 he also called for the abolishment of Leaving Cert Irish as a compulsory course. What Enda didnt foresee in that promise, is that once a leaving cert student has done their Irish test the vast majority (94% in fact) couldnt care less about younger students having to or not having to sit the exam. In fact, we being Irish and wishing hardship on our fellow Paddy would want those students to go through the very same shit we went through back in the day. I can say with confidence, that is where Fine Gael lost the election of 2007. The leaving cert classes of 1988 to 2007 taking the preverbial piss.

Enda has also come up with ridiculous names for coalition governments like the 'Mullingar Accord'. Now I'll admit the 'Palensitinian/Israeli Peace Accord' has a certain ring to it - but Mullingar - it just doesn't have the same gravitas or swank.

Problem 26 of 99 - Enda just wont let some things go. He recently released an auto-biography styled on another possible leader in waiting - B to the Obama. "The Audacity of DeValera and his Irregulars to walk out of the Dail in 1922 and put the country to civil war", published in July of this year also lists extensively the wrongs of Fianna Fail. From that rapscallion Dev pissing off Churchill during and after WW2, to when FF allowed Willie O'Dea and his Toyota Yaris on an episode of MTV's 'Pimp My Ride', the book is almost forensic in its attention to detail about the fuck up's of FF. Apparently the book's publisher Penguin Classic are going to be coming out with a 'rough guide to Fine Gael'. Best-motherfucking-seller right there.

Some advice for the Blueshirts - its been long enough. With the state of the economy, health service and transport system, Stalin with an election promise of 'gulags for all' could win the next couple of elections for Fine Gael. If you (FG) get pillaged during the Local's and European's next year give Enda his P45, spandex pants and stabilisers and tell him to get on his bike back to Mayo. It will do you all a big favour.

Mary Harney

Mary Harney is frightening - just look at that picture above. No further words need be added to illustrate this image, every pixel tells its own story. Of horror.

Harney is another 'heavyweight' on the Irish political scene. Like 97% of the Dail she was a schoolteacher before entering politics. As is my way I couldn't be arsed researching her past so I'm just going to copy what wikipedia says about her early political life. "She holds the record as the youngest Senator in the Seanad, being 24 on appointment. In 1979 Harney had her first electoral success when she was elected to Dublin City Council. Two years later she was successfully elected to the Dail in the 1981 general election for Dublin South West. She has retained her seat at every election since then". Like all people who have read this fact about Mary my first thought was, "Lord Jehovah - save the people of that constituency from eternal damnation for they do not know what they do".

Harney became a founder-member of the Progressive Democrats in 1986 and has been fucking around the top of that "party" ever since. Another useful piece of information about Harney is that she is unable to start new sentences with capital letters, which has lead to our health system being ranked 25th of 26 in the EU + Switzerland, only ahead of Lithuania (again wikipedia) and her webpage looking spa-like.

Mary has fought off charges of gross incompetence, evading Luas ticket inspectors, stealing from Toymaster and the near annihilation of the PD's to remain in charge of the Irish health system since 2006. Opinions are, shall we say, slightly mixed on the type of job she has done since her appointment. However, recent statistics now show that an Irish person suffering with bubonic plague during the Black Death would have had a better chance of staying alive by going to the local apothecary, than if they were to limp into an Irish hospital with a sprained ankle tomorrow.

Now it would be easy for me to make light of Mary's 'consumption issue', which I think some of Ireland's finest political correspondents in the Irish Times and Weekly Sport go too far with, but there is another piece of information that must be divulged to the public (or this blog's 3 readers). Met Eireann has noted that the sheer density of Harney's mass is having extraordinary effects on the Irish tidal system. Irish tides, at intervals of 6 hours are literally being dragged towards her, nullifying the gravitational pull of the Moon. This phenomenon has resulted in levels of soil erosion along Ireland's east coast increasing 22 fold since 1979. Scientific fact.

In December 2001, Harney used a Government plane which was 50% funded by the European Commission to travel to Leitrim to open a friend's off-license. Harney later apologised for having abused her position in using the plane for non government business arguing that duty called because free pie was on offer in Leitrim. The aircraft has subsequently been devoted to maritime surveillance of the soil erosion effects discussed above.

So what have we learned about Mary Harney from the above? Nothing really, but the day will have to come when the people of Dublin South West say 'No' and tell Mary to go back to Ballinasloe. Either that or we wait for a black hole to be opened up in the front row of Dail Eireann because Harney's density reached critical mass.

Pat Rabbitte

The photo above goes as follows:

Pat Rabbitte, bloke on the left: “See her, I pinged her in a school disco back in 1963”.

Bertie Ahern: “Decent Pat, decent Pat – has potential”.

Enda Kenny: “Did you get the ride?"

Pat: “No”.

Mark Durkan: “Wouldn’t touch her with a barge pole”.

Pat: “Thanks for that input there Mark”.

Pat Rabbitte was born in Mayo in 1949, he is currently 59. He has gone from being a dirty Leninist red a la Workers party when he got his first Dail seat in 1989, to being a greedy capitalist like the rest of the people in Ireland with common sense. He has done some shit like lead the Labour party, but nothing that would be like fucking insane. Not like playing Monopoly with real money.

To my understanding, at least three of the following stories about Pat Rabitte are true.

(1) Pat models and is a sales rep for the “Lancome make-up for men” range in Brown Thomas on Grafton Street during the summer months. I didn’t believe this one myself; but apparently Pat threw his CV into Brown Thomas while the Dail was on its break last summer and got the job the next day, no interview either. I got talking to one of Pat’s rival male make-up reps in BT to clarify the story. Your man Patrick O’Flaherty told me this,

“His eyebrows are delicious and whatever blusher he uses it really brings out his high cheekbones. He knows his make-up. The man is an inspiration to everyone that works in Brown Thomas and especially for the customers that shop in here. I would literally execute someone for his eyelashes”.

(2) Pat can be misunderstood sometimes, especially around newcomers to his office. My cousin was his temp PA for a few hours last year. She told me that on her first day Pat was showing her around his Dail office when he came out with this gem. “And that’s where the magic happens”, while pointing to a large leather sofa in the corner of the room. My cousin Breda reminded him of the illegality of sexual harassment in the workplace and the potential effect such an incident could have on his political career.

“Nah, nah, I’m not shitting you – that's actually where I do me magic”, retorted Pat. So they both sat down on the sofa, Pat whipped out a pack of cards and did that trick where the dealer asks you to pick a card, then splits the deck and then finds your card. Breda pointed out that this was a trick 8 years old learn. She got fired the next day.

(3) Pat is related to the bloke who found L.casei Immunitas in Danone Actimel bottles.

(4) Pat produced and mixed Radiohead’s last album “In Rainbows”. A lot of people go on about the sixth member of Radiohead being a guy called Nigel Godrich. Its bollocks. Forget about introducing progressive legislation into the Dail, Pat for the last two years has been introducing Thom Yorke to some seriously progressive beats, tweaks and opticians. Pat was there every step of the way for the band’s recent voyage into pretentious wankery. His next musical project will be of his own tunes, which according to Pat’s press officer “attempts to combine Bay Area hip-hop with Nepalese traditional styles”. I look forward to its release.

(5) Pat was the first and only politician to attack Dick Spring with a teacup. Story goes that during the Rainbow Coalition of the 90’s, Dick Spring and Pat Rabitte were constantly taking the piss out of one another across the Cabinet table. “Pat you are a tubby fuck who loves the auld pie” with a response such as “Richard you have a large horizontal muff on your face just below your nose”, would apparently be heard on a daily basis, according to insiders. One day it got a little heated with Dick replying to one of Pat’s jibes with “Your momma”. That didn’t go down well, that didn’t go down well at all. Dick got minced in the neck – harsh.

Micheal Martin

Micheal Martin was born in 1960 to a boxer and someone else. According to his website Martin, before "entering public life on an occupational basis", was a school teacher. Apparently he wasn't mad on the full-time politician hours of 48 minutes per week and was a little worried about the tag "occupational". Plus it meant that he couldn't fulfill his life-long dream of driving an ice-cream van. But he eventually got over himself and into the Cork Corporation in 1985. From then on....well it was onwards, upwards and sideways in Fianna Fail.

Above is himself on the left with a Goebbel's like grin and a load of wankers (easy on the lipstick Micheal). Like most politicians, Martin claims all the credit for the work of his civil servants and advisers, most notably the smoking ban he introduced in 2004. Apart from getting two gold stars and a smiley face in his copy book off Bertie for passing the ban, Martin received recognition from the American Lung Association of Arkansas for his outstanding leadership. Problem is that Martin can't even spell Arkansas, a fact which ruled him out of collecting his prestigious award.

Story goes that Martin was sick of seeing Willie O'Dea getting all the attention off the birds in Coppers on Student nights, because Willie offered them a puff of his cigar. So Martin decided smoking in Coppers / the whole Republic was fucking outta here. (Shit one because O'Dea gets even more of the honeyz now with his effective smurting).

Micheal spends his time in the Dail doing piss all because the post of Foreign Affairs, which was thrown his way after Cowen's coup, is as about as productive as North Korea. If the Department of Social and Family Affairs is regarded as the post that is halfway out the cabinet door, then Foreign Affairs is pretty much being told to fucking leave the country and never come back.

Micheal told us that he had two main objectives on coming into Iveagh House, (i) to get the Lisbon Treaty passed and (ii) to invade Liechtenstein. The first one could be over by tomorrow night and the second one could be done and dusted by brunch Friday, if O'Dea and the boys down in the Curragh got their shit together.

Staying with Martin's second objective, nobody can really argue with its logic. I've heard that the plan is to rob a few bayonet's and six-shooters off the Yanks while they are passing through Shannon, on their way to Mesopotamia, over the next few weeks. We (Ireland) have kind of needed revenge for that deplorable 0-0 draw we had with Liechtenstein in one of our qualifying campaigns a few years ago - can't remember which one, but I do remember the entire European continent laughing at us. The quicker we annex Liechtenstein the better. Sure nobody in Europe will even notice / give a toss.

Micheal is going to have a tough few years ahead of him. Cowen has publicly given him the "piss off you langer" sign by throwing him the dead end job on St.Stephen's Green. Cowen, after spending 11 years scratching his bollocks beside Bertie is going to want to stick around in the hot seat for a good while. It could be a long long time before Micheal can get himself sorted for a run at the leadership. My advice to him would be to keep the head down in Foreign Affairs, pray to Moses Lisbon is passed and start shocking and awing the arse off Liechtenstein.

Willie O'Dea

Willie O'Dea will seriously fuck you up...anytime...anywhere. That's about it really.

Bertie Ahern

Broccoli…Taoiseach…teabagging…leader…ipod…Drumcondra…Katie Holmes…these are all words that come to come to mind when we think of Bertie Ahern. The truth is Bertie is much more than these words…much much more. The picture above is himself at a Scouts Den, flanked by a ginger bloke and a woman dressed in a wicked sea scouts uniform / drag…whichever. I wonder did Bertie get an honorary Scouts badge or complementary woggle for turning up?

B to the A entered the Dail at the tender age of 25 in 1977 and will presumably fuck off to the backbenches next week. The 31 years interlude involved pints in Fagan’s (which apparently has Tranny Night on a Friday*) and not having a bank account. Not much else happened in those years except the making of an odd remix tape, which I’ll come to next, and being Taoiseach for a while.

The first time I saw Bertie, was on a night out in Vicar Street a good few years back. Ahern was at the time getting big on the dance / trip-hop scene, a scene which now acknowledges him a visionary. I can truly say I’ve never heard anything like it since.

“This is for me beatch Cowen”, he bellowed, the strobe lights got going and Bertie kicked off his DJ set with a savage remix of Shadow’s tune “Organ Donor”. Ahern just kept the place pumping for hours – it was classic. At the end of his set, he fucked an empty bottle of Bud out into the crowd capping some young one – the bouncers didn’t like that, but nobody cared. The next time I saw Bertie was a few months later. He was eating a Spar roll in Eyre Square, Galway.

I couldn’t be arsed going into detail about his dodgy goings-on, and fuck if you want a balanced, non-biased account of the bloke read the Sunday Indo. I guess if you manage to block out all the other shite and remember that the man openly admitted a while back that he took ‘political donations for personal use’, then you will probably have a fair picture of Bertie. So if someone were to ask me did I think he was corrupt, I would have to answer - does a camel shit in the desert?

On a serious note, it may be obvious but all politicians crave a positive legacy. Bertie’s (supposedly positive) legacy will be out the fucking window if former secretaries, who got paid less than slaves, keep turning up to Dublin Castle.

I reckon like Westlife, Bertie just wants to “go home”, but the problem is that he doesn't know where the fuck home is. St.Luke's, his dump in Drumcondra, Celia's gaff, who really knows? He hasn’t resigned his seat but the chap has pretty much retired. B to the A, for me, has two options now. He can hit the red Luas line everyday pissed off his tree on cans of Druids, shouting at people in suits. Or…

He can go to Rio, do lots of drugs, expand his DJ repertoire and enjoy the easy lifestyle of the Copacabana. Both are appealing on different levels, but I think Bertie should take his time on deciding. Lest we forget he gets to chill on his way to retirement 15 years before the rest of us will ever do. Plenty of time left for Alan Mahon, the Revenue Commissioners, jail, turntables, the Luas, Rio…

A bientot Bertie.

(*A few months ago, on a Friday night, I was walking by Fagan’s in Drumcondra with a mate. A taxi pulled up right beside us and a tranny wankered off his/her tits proceeded to get out. The tranny had a bit of a Lindsay Lohan, noticed and then folded his/her knob back into his/her pants, underneath his/her mini-skirt. After the tranny got out, he/she pointed across the road to Fagan’s and shouted to me mate, “Im going in there to get some cock”…and off he/she went.

True story.)

Tommy Broughan

Tommy Broughan is hard. He is one of those politicians who you see walking around Leinster House like a mad yoke sporting a Ben Sherman luminous rainjacket, white Lacoste runners with his hand constantly rammed down a pair of Adidas tracksuit bottoms. The bitches love this kind of shit on Kildare Street…apparently. Tommy represents Coolock and Donaghmede in Dublin – that’s why he’s hard. You know all those knife attacks you hear about every twenty minutes on Lyric FM – they’re all Tommy. He has lost a little bit of it now that he lives in swanky Howth, County Dublin, but fuck man – give him a dodgy look and Broughan will bottle ye on the Dart.

According to Tommy on his website, he was born and reared in Clondalkin, which has been “the ancestral home of my (his) family for centuries past”. His folks have got to be pissed that he broke the family line and fucked off to Howth. I reckon he made the right decision. Clondakin has a massive carpark (more commonly known as the M50) beside it and it ranks second only to Baghdad for the number of deaths on a Saturday night linked to ethnic violence.

(*Note to Tommy about your website: the personal background section should be a brief description of where you first learned to throw bricks at the 51 bus, not the start of a ‘Lord of the Rings’ type mythical story.)

Broughan is a member of many useless councils and committees, including the “Northside Security Services”, which does a bit of keying ‘08 cars on Sunday afternoons and plays Bridge on Thursday nights with members of his local hospice.

Akin to his Fine Gael counterpart Leo Varadkar, Broughan is the Labour Spokesperson for Wank, Wank and Wank or Enterprise, Trade and Employment. I don’t know for sure if there is any enterprise or trade of a legal nature done in his Dublin constituency and if there is it’s probably something that has its financial backing from a drug racket or prozzie ring…like Woodies on the Malahide Road or the Post office in Bayside.

Tommy has been warming the Opposition benches for an embarrassingly long time since his election to the Dail for Dublin North East in 1992. I’ve heard him regularly refer to this situation as “bent” on programmes like Primetime and Loose Women.

Apart from bottling people, Broughan is ‘mad in-te’ his supped up Mazda, tinted windows, robbing cars, joyriding cars, burning cars out, robbing more cars, Tiesto, his new Nokia and his bird. He also likes watching the ‘Tic’ beat Rangers. He doesn’t like parsnip, guitar music or when Rangers win. I got all this shite off his bebo profile (which impressively has over 967,000 hits).

Which is also what he is turning around to look at in the above photo. According to a Labour spokeswoman I contacted, Tommy likes to spend a lot of his time on Bebo…updating his profile, writing “Gilmore is a sap” on Gilmore’s wall (oddly enough) and seeing if his bird has any new photos up from Tina’s weekly gaff parties.

Broughan, on the left, is showing what I can only assume is an audience, where he gets his hits from in the Bebo map section. Most of them are from his mate Deco.

At this point in time I would like to mention that Tommy is a local TD of mine and I say fair play to him. It takes some balls to rob cars from Darndale in broad daylight, burn them out beside the Coolock copshop and still have the audacity to run for a seat in Leinster House. Fair fucks indeed.

Mary Coughlan

Who is this woman, because I haven’t got a fucking clue? According to a website I just checked out she is Minister for Agriculture, Fisheries and Food. When the Big G was putting together a little list of Ministries on the ninth day of creation he kind of screwed Coughlan over. To begin with she really doesn’t need a salary of €240,000 a year for having to deal with the odd potato blight, disgruntled salmon fishermen and banning Portuguese food from Tesco. Sure fuck, we dealt fine with the last famine…population control and all that good stuff. I heard somewhere that Coughlan invented the lava lamp. Is this true???? Probably…. I do hope that its not one of those “lampoons” we hear about so often.

Mary Coughlan doesn’t have her own website, so I am going out on a limb with some of me yarns about her. She hit the Dail with a passion in 1987 at the age of 21. According to her wikipedia page she also went to UCD and worked as a social worker. Haughey was a massive fan of having young college girls strolling about the House, especially elected ones. Even more so if they wore his favourite…Reebok LA Lights.

So at the age of 21, did this woman divide her week into 3 days of lectures, 8 hours of helping junkies off heroine and 40 minutes of getting her arse grove in order in one of Leinster House’ backbenches? Probably…

In my own humble opinion I think this picture above of Coughlan (the auld one on the left) is fucking genius. Some Fianna Fail dickwad took it while Mary was on a trip to J-Pan and thought it would be cool to post it on the party’s webpage. Check out the guns on Coughlan, she has to be on protein shakes. Man she doesn’t need that dagger for the oyster, she could just fucking rip the thing open with her teeth. Either the Japanese bird is seriously crossed-eyed or she is scared to shit that Mary is going to tear her face off and stab her in the neck with that mini-dagger. That is a face of pure Nipponese fear…. ‘Iwo Jima 1945 -Yanks about to land on the beach fear’.

Coughlan deserves her €240k a year because the beatch is inspired. You can have your heroes like Bono, Nelson Mandela or Dana. Coughlan has Bobby…Bobby Kennedy. This is her personal message on the FF website:

“Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centres of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

This is one of my favourite quotes from Robert Kennedy. He made the comments in 1966 and they are equally relevant today, because this is what politics is about. It’s about making change, making a difference and bettering society in a true republican ideal, which is central to Fianna Fáil’s own ideology and raison d’etre.

Where the flip to begin? First off Mary, its harsh to rob the words of a man who passed away in a rancid fashion for use on a shabby Fianna Fail website. Its just bad out. Secondly Mary, renting out ‘Bobby’ from Xtra Vision and skipping to the last chapter on the DVD doesn’t mean you’re inspired. Its just laziness. And finally, I don’t know how the fuck you can transfer a sense of inspiration or a need to send forth a tiny ripple of hope into the Department of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food on Kildare Street. You’re yapping through your hole Coughlan.

Mary hopes that we find our visit to the Department of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food website to be a stimulating experience. It appears that she wants us to have a big wank while browsing the Site Map section.

Sound.

Leo Varadkar

The man has to be a Communist, with a name like that he just bloody has to be. Or one of those Chechen rebel blokes. I thought we had got rid of the last of those fuckers when the people of Dublin West told Joe Higgins to piss off in the last election. (Communists that is, not Chechen rebels, there are a load of them kicking it about in Bantry). It’s a little dubious that Varadkar replaced Higgins in Dublin West, strikes me as a Stalinist-type transfer of power. Fuck it anyway, Castleknock could do with a few gulags and collectivised farms.

Rambling a bit there, so yeah…Leo on the left is chilling with his dealer, a chalkboard and some auld fella. I have to say he does look like a bit of a spa, but I’ll get back to that later. Leo, as mentioned, got elected to the Dail in 2007 and Kenny has made him Spokesperson for Wank, Wank and Wank or…Enterprise, Trade and Employment. For the previous ten years, he had been one of those people with no friends, partly because he is from Chechnya, but also because he was involved in political youth parties. While normal teenagers were out boozing and getting head in the local carpark, Varadkar was writing discursive essays on Marxism.

The story of how Leo got into the Dail is pretty shite, but the one of how he got into Ireland is classic. The man should get some memoirs in order; make a few quid in Easons. With war-torn Chechnya looking like Lower Manhattan after Al-Qaeda had a go at it, Varadkar decided to embark upon one bad-ass adventure. Think Black Sea cargo ship, Adriatic, Italian port with guards and alsatians, back of lorry, Channel Tunnel, jumping barbed wire, Stena Line, dodgy passport, hostel. You get me drift.

The main thing that one needs to know about Varadkar is that (apart from his fetish for giant Chinese panda’s), for the last 8 months or so, he has been trying to sexy up the Oireachtas. Not since the time of Sean Lemass cracking one off in the Seanad’s disabled jacks has there been this much sheer raunchiness in government. The problem with Leo is that he suffers from what is known as F.M.S, or Fat Mess Syndrome. The bloke is a tub, who looks alarmingly like a medieval troll.

Like with the photo above, Varadkar always has his bleedin’ shirt open and never seems to wear a tie. Maybe its cool not to wear them in Asia Minor, but you’re in Dublin now fuckwit and if you are going to represent the people of this shithole, get with the program and buy yourself a tie from Dunnes Boutique. Also, every time you see the bloke interviewed on telly for political matters he is never near the Dail, it’s always somewhere fucking random, like his local in Castleknock, his local in Chechnya or outside Champion Sports on Henry Street.

In keeping with his portfolio and general theme of sexiness, Leo has introduced a few forward-thinking pieces of legislation. Varadkar has been pleading with the House to pass his bilateral Sex-slave trade agreement between Chechnya and Ireland. He argues that the government should be promoting our European philosophy of free trade for goods, services and people. This piece of legislation, according to Varadkar, encompasses all three (can’t argue with the man on that). His other main piece of legislation has also been greeted with applause – legalising the use of strap-on’s in all public offices. There is a degree of hope, in some circles, that this Bill might be as successful as the Smoking Ban.

It appears he has also tried to sexy-up his website. Rather than go for the simple “Comments” section on his contact page, he has spruced it up with a bit of, “Any Comments You Might Have”…yeah one - “fuck off”.

Brian Lenihan

There are two things you need to know about Brian Lenihan. (1) He is amazing at Rounders. If that boy gets to second base, by Moses he will make it home. A solid winner. (2) He likes his deportations as much as his Tangle Twisters. And he really...really likes his Tangle Twisters.

So above is a photo of Brian with with some kid who is about to throw up, her family and their guide dog. Jesus, the man looks demented - look at those eyes. Speaking of eyes, it would explain a lot of shit if it was found that Lenihan was blind. Maybe it's his dog and he brought it along to the ceremony for free Pedigree chum snacks.

Brian was born in 1959 and had the family business passed down to him when his pa hit the turf. Its amazing how many by-elections in Ireland can be won by simply canvassing with a relative's obituary in tow, a taiser, and a stupid fucking grin. Anyway, this point has nothing to do with the election of 'Leno' (as his mates like to call him) to the Dail in 1996. His whole family have been pissing around Kildare Street since the time of Gladstone, selling tin and shit. Mary-Lisp O'Rourke is his aunt. I'll leave it at that.

After the election of 2007 Leno was appointed Minister for Justice, Equality and Law Reform. In fairness to the bloke, that does sound kind of bad-ass. The problem though is that Brian has done little on the auld equality side of things. On weekends, he likes to engage in a little bit of deporting in the style of 1930's Germany.

Unknown to many, Leno orders his own deportations. This puppy doesn't need civil servants, lawyers or even the fucking courts. He has his own SS, the Blanchardstown Garda force. First thing you know, you're Nigerian and taking your kid to Burger King in the Tallaght Square Shopping Centre and then bang!!!, you and your little nipper are in the back of an unmarked Ford Mondeo on the way to the big barn in Santry, having a Ryanair ticket to Luton shoved in your face. That is how shit goes down in "Leno's Land" (from his website).

If you do manage to get some hippy from Amnesty Ireland to delay your deportation by a few days, Brian takes this as a personal insult. Another thing that few ordinary people know is that Leno has a first class honours in Law from knob-filled Trinity and a first class Masters in Law from Cambridge. Which means that he has done some lurid things against his wishes...very lurid things indeed. It also means that he knows his shit and doesn't need state appointed lawyers to get these foreign terrorists out, he is the fucking state.

Researching this article I contacted the Department of Justice, Equality...blah blah blah by phone. The receptionist wanted to remain anonymous but I got the crux of what Leno wants to do in this term of office. "His is really going to fuck those immigrants up", stated my insider in a surprising note of glee, "Seriously fuck them up - you ain't seen shit yet". Apparently, the plan is to turn Lambay Island, off the coast of Dublin, into some sort of Ellis Island facility, where your usual types; the young, sick, feeble, returning emmigrants from Leitrim, could be weeded out and sent back home.

Happy days.

Mary Hanafin

These randomers in the photo above just don't want to be there - you can just fricking tell. They are all holding this brown book looking 'deadly', except that guy on the very right who probably ate his. And the bloke second from left is also about to eat his. Yes, Hanafin is the one in the middle. Not the dude in the shirt. So yeah, Mary is holding the book open, trying to look all studious. Eh Hanafin, you need to be actually looking at it to be able to read it.

So anyway, who know's how exactly Hanafin was conceived, probably in the cradle of hell, but what we do know is that she has made a right fuck-up of the department she is in charge of - that of Education and Science. Sure she can't even spell properly, this is an extract from the welcome page on her website(www.maryhanafin.ie/failte.htm) :

"T� �thas orm go ndearna t� teagmh�il liom agus t� s�il agam go l�ifidh t� �bhar suimi�il. F�ilteofar roimh do thuairim�!

What is that? I think its an attempt at our rancid language. Hardly inspirational for the students, forced by Hanafin, to take the subject for the Leaving Cert. (She signs off on her welcome page with the simple signature 'Mary' - D?n Laoghaire Fianna F?il T.D - how sweet).

Hanafin was born in Thurles, County Tipperary in the year 11 A.D and over the last 2000 years she has been intermittently engaged in epic Highlander-esque battles with various pig farmers. She converted to Catholicism in 316 A.D after she went out for a few cans in the local field with Saint Patrick who told her JC "was wicked". After realising that being only able to converse in an ancient dialect of Hebrew was useless to her, Hanafin decided to enroll in Presentation Convent Thurles, in the early 1970's. Somehow she managed to get a degree a few years later from some shithole.

After getting fleeced numerous times by teenage scobes on her stroll home to Coolock (Mary likes to walk everywhere), Hanafin decided that Blackrock, on the other side of Dublin city was where it was at. Teaching to little shits in the Dominican College, she realised that having power (the non-mythical type) was savage and gave politics a go. To cut a long story short Mary, after getting fucked around a bit by her local electorate and Fianna Fail, eventually got elected to the Dail in 1997. Well done Mary.

Hanafin, as mentioned, has gone on to become the Minister for Education and Science. This job basically involves visiting a few bankrupt schools around the country for PR purposes, looking like a spa at the Young Scientist Awards once a year (again for PR purposes) and taking the piss out of kids with autism and principals in Celbridge, County Kildare. In 2009, Hanafin will get €240,000 a year for her labour. She maintains it shows "leadership to defer the pay increase by 12 months" (RTE interview with Dobson) - eh what. The high wage is also needed to ensure that Ministers don't revert to dodgy deals for income (again with Dobson) - how fucking noble. Pity she is full of turd.

However, the lesson learned from 'North Kildare Educate Together....gate' was that you should never fuck with someone who has been around since crucifixes were all the rage. Even if you are "verbally attacked and berated in an aggressive and confrontational way" by Hanafin, try to take it on the chin. She is always right - fucking always right, especially when it comes to kids with autism. Like Montana, Hanafin likes to do things her own way and if she needs to single out some beatch who gets in her way and publicly humiliate her, then she will, don't doubt it. The best thing you can do is to get the fuck out of Hanafin's warpath.

Or she will be on to Lenihan to get you and your kids deported.

Introduction

So there are a lot of shit blogs out there, and this one could probably be included as one of them. I don't intend that this blog should be held up as a beacon of intellect, in fact I hope the people who stumble across it will think the opposite.

This blog is concerned with one topic - the people who presently hold ministerial positions in Dail Eireann. Who are these knobs and why should they be paid so much money? For a job that uses more underpaid and malnourished assistants than a Vietnamese sweatshop, the least we should expect from our ministers is a bit of competence and effective governance. Indeed Mongo Harney has ensured over the last four years, that when someone is rushed to Beaumont Hospital all bloodied from a drunken fight the only thing they are going to get in A&E is syphilis. And we also got those fucking ads with the nurse : "I've had enough"???? - You are enough.

Basically, our tax money always go to shit. The buck stopped with Stan after our crap European campaign, so how come these pricks after chilling out in Kildare Street for two hours, still get a Garda escort to the nearest house with smack?

I intend, over the coming months, to give an alternative biography/'current status' of each of our Dail Ministers in the hope that some of it, or maybe 20% of it, is true. For equality sake's, I will also discuss the lives of some of our Ministers in shadow, i.e the saps in Opposition.

I will not start with "Y Tywyswr" ('The Leader' in Welsh), or the cretin that is otherwise known as Bertie Ahern. He can wait. I questioned myself as to who was most likely, among the Cabinet, to have been conceived through incest. With this is mind I turn to my first Dail Minister...


*(Disclaimer : This blog is meant for shits and giggles and offence is unintentional....except Bertie)