What’s the name of the game, Britain? Break up and move on – or reverse Brexit?



So, the, er May-hem that should have seen the mother of all  economic earthquakes paying us a visit this Friday has been temporarily postponed – until April 12th. Theresa May? She’s a  woman whom I’ll admit I did once feel a little sorry for, but who I now realise, along with her crack team of muppets, sorry skilled negotiators, possesses zero political acumen when it comes to dealing with Brexit. Her only strategy to deliver a result has been to repeat “I’m going to get my vote through” – parrot fashion – and she has been effectively told by the EU to ‘sling yer hook, we’re sick of the sight of you!’

  Yes folks, appearing to grate on everyone’s nerves during what was last week’s high-stakes summit, May, whose sashaying on stage to ABBA’s Dancing Queen clearly (at one time) appeared to be the perfect moment in her dreams, is now proving to be a nightmare in reality as she approaches her dreaded Waterloo.

  I’d imagine last week that May’s quintessential stiff upper lipped British pride took a serious dive, when, consigned to eating humble pie and being left to stew as EU bigwigs chowed down on duck à l’orange, she was dismissed like a bold child and was, (like the rest of us plebs) forced to rely on a few social media updates and leaks regarding the latest sit-rep. And, as the grandees squabbled and hammered out their solution to her country’s crisis, Theresa must, in all honesty, have realised that she didn’t possess the biggest quality necessary in a good leader; which is, to respond to the democratic wishes of the electorate. And so, given the amount of increasing support the anti-Brexit campaigners are now gaining, (with apparently the likes of Annie Lennox and Hugh Grant signing petitions to ‘Revoke Article 50 and remain in the EU’), it’s my opinion that only the most arrogant of prime ministers would blatantly continue to ignore the demographic changes and slides that have occurred, and which are now glaringly visible across her entire country.

  So, enough with your spin Britain, I’m gonna put this question into words your ABBA lovin’ leader will understand…What’s the Name of the Game? We know you ‘don’t wanna talk about things we’ve gone through’ and, while we’ve ‘played all (our) cards’, and you tell us ‘that’s what you’ve done too,’ quite frankly, we’re soooo over you, and, when we’re ‘the winner (who) takes it all,’ and you’re ‘the loser standing small,’ don’t bother whingin’ at our door for any ‘money, money, money,’ ‘cos there won’t be a ‘single penny left for (you)! Geddit?


Shout out to the mannerly men attending Transition Year at CBS Roscommon


Good manners, politeness and conducting oneself in a respectable fashion costs absolutely nothing; and yet, (in my experience anyway), it seems some parents (not all), fail to teach their children how to behave and how to say those simple words, please and thank you. 

  However, last week, when meeting a friend in Gleeson’s Townhouse in Roscommon town, I happened to be sitting at a table next to a group of teenage lads who not only impressed me with their impeccable manners and respectful attitude to the staff – the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ were being generously bandied about like snuff at a wake – but these lads were also immaculately turned out,  from their perfectly styled hair to their buffed and polished shoes, to their impressively laundered school uniforms; which, I immediately noticed displayed a crest confirming they were all students of CBS Roscommon. When I asked one of them why they were all sitting in Gleeson’s ordering breakfast from the menu like a group of gentlemen engaged in a business meeting, he told me they were promoting their school’s magazine.

  As it transpired, I was chatting with the entire TY year at CBS Roscommon, and I’d like to say a big an-mhaith agus comhghairdeas to their school principal, their year head and to their parents who should all not only be proud of these lads, but should be proud of themselves for raising and shaping a bunch of what I perceived to be genuinely well rounded, well-mannered individuals who were a pleasure to sit next to. If these lads, and their behaviour is indicative of what constitutes the youth of today, Roscommon’s future is in good hands. And er, sorry for being a nosey aul wagon and rocking up to wreck yer buzz lads…couldn’t help myself!

Danny’s got a solution to Deer-mageddon!

I’m one hundred per cent certain, (well, maybe just eighty per cent), that the lovely Independent TD Danny Healy-Rae is not an over-excitable gentleman. Nor, despite his previous inaccurate statements regarding climate change, as in ‘God above controls the weather,’ and his highly questionable hypothesis that consuming a big meal and getting behind the wheel of a car is as dangerous as drink-driving, etc. do I believe him to be, ahem, intellectually challenged in any way. In fact folks, I’d go so far as to say that Mr. Healy-Rae is likely a highly astute, sharp-minded individual; so I am at odds to know why it is that every time this man opens his mouth he appears to press Ctrl, Alt, Delete on his brain, leading to his sense of rationalisation slowly seeping from his mind like a tyre with a slow puncture?

  Let me explain. Last week, I read, with (what was once again) bewildered amusement, that Danny has allegedly, ‘called for the army to be deployed to make roads in Kerry safe again,’ and that the Kingdom was being reduced to a state of “turmoil and tears” because a few innocent, and, may I add what I’d imagine to be beautiful and majestic, wild deer, who are roaming around.

  Mind you, if one is to believe Healy-Rae’s claims, it would seem that poor little Bambi & Co. “have taken the place over”. Now, as an animal welfare supporter I’d only love the chance to get into a debate with Danny regarding his various views and opinions; (all of which he is entitled to) with my first question being to ask him why it is he feels it’s perfectly okay for God above to control certain aspects of nature, but when it suits him, or indeed interferes with him, he’d like to utilise and deploy the services of the Irish army to deal with such nuisances as, ahem, Deer-mageddon?