Serious Satire with Morgan
The word legend has been greatly devalued in recent times. There was a time when a soldier would have to carry an injured man whilst mud-wrestling his way across no man’s land in a hail of bullets to deserve the accolade. Nowadays, a return visit from the local Spar with cheese and onion flavour pringles is enough for a bloody purple heart. “Johnny, you’re an absolute ledge”. Glory is for young men. Sigh. It’s a similar position with modern friendship. Social media has expanded our circle of “friends” into the thousands but what is the true measure of friendship? Sticking a ’like’ on their latest photo of their dinner doesn’t really cut it. An old acquaintance of mine suggested a true friend would lose his little finger to keep you alive. Have a think about that one and write down a list- make sure it’s less than ten or you will be writing with your toes!
I met an old college buddy of mine last week, home from Japan to visit some family for a few days. We have met up about 5 or 6 times since college but he still remembers my kid’s names (Legend!) and is a genuinely decent chap. Over the couple of hours which included me keeping an eye on Spurs thumping Borussia Dortmund, we chatted about the usual random stuff, but of particular interest to us here at home with spiralling rents, was the fact that rents in central Tokyo in the area he was living were in the region of €18k per month for a two- bedroom apartment. D4 eat your heart out! Another interesting titbit of information was the number of immigrants that Japan took in last year -11! Over 99% of the population of Japan are Japanese. I wonder do they have a midlands correspondent on the news reporting outside hotels in small villages with little or no services. I doubt it. Donald Trump could do worse than check out their PR guys.
The old party machines will certainly be out in force soon with the local elections less than four months away. I’m struggling to muster a grain of interest to be honest. I’ve long been an advocate for a regional ombudsman office, perhaps on a county basis, to hear complaints and sort out impasses in bureaucracy. I’ve always failed to fathom how a councillor can claim to have got a house for Mary when surely that merely demotes the next applicant on the list? Is the system so flawed that we need councillors to provide a remedy or is it purposely flawed to require an intervention in the first place. Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters? Don’t be silly a Healy-Rae’s your man! There is always something you don’t see coming. Life has a way of breaking your whole basket of eggs. I recently had a woman from Offaly ask me where I was from and when I said Longford she asked if that was in Offaly. Every single person gets to vote. Is it any wonder we elect whom we elect?
I had a conversation with a lady this week- a real ray of sunshine, not from Offay!- about germs and she reckoned the place where the greatest number of germs were to be encountered was on the handle of a fuel pump. It’s not something I had cause to contemplate too often and if I were a betting man my own favourite would be the inside door handle in the Men’s toilets. I say the inside because after witnessing the lack of basic hygiene on several occasions I believe there are more germs being deposited on the way out. I will leave you to do the maths.
I’m not a big fan of meanness. I suppose there can’t be too many who are. Unless of course you happen to be a miserable sh*te. Even then I can’t imagine it gives a person much joy to be a tightwad. I’m not discussing those who cannot afford but rather those who can but who shy away-we all know them. The painting of the last supper would take on a whole new essence if in the aftermath there was a discussion as to who had a starter. There is no hitch on a hearse folks.
I don’t like Mondays or Bob Geldof. I’m a big fan of adopting a four day week. 10 hours for four days is preferable to 8 hours for five. My only concern is if we changed the working week would I begin to hate Tuesdays and some other twat who writes a song about it with the same vigour.
Did you see our trendy Taoiseach Varadkar questioning the science behind the Operation Transformation metabolic age calculator?- Apparently it calculated an age of 53: He is 40. Maybe it’s the same scientific formula that was used to calculate the budget for the children’s hospital, Leo?
I’m told fifty is the new forty – try telling that to the Traffic Corps in Ballisodare on a wet Tuesday and see how far you get. My Bad.
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