Oh Gerry. All the teddy bears and rubber ducks in the world won’t save him now. The RA is all he’s got left to turn to, even though he was obviously never involved with them in any way.For all of the talk they had about a united Ireland, they seemed to find the border very handy for keeping all their mistakes out of the way. It’s always double standards with Sinn Féin. If we could only send Gerry back up the North and hide him away up there we’d be sorted, but apparently that’s frowned upon.
And we wouldn’t have to struggle against the Shinners in the polls either. And of course, he’s one to give out about holding newspaper editors at gunpoint considering the things he’s been accused of. He’s like Oscar the Grouch in that song he sings in the Sesame Street film, ‘Follow that Bird’- “Let this be the Grouch’s cause! Point out everybody’s flaws! Something is wrong with everything, except the way I sing!” Speaking of my favourite show, Sesame Street, this week is its 45th anniversary! I am celebrating with a Sesame Street marathon- thankfully it’s supposed to rain again- with Count Von Count and cookies and milk, as all good Sesame Street marathons should be.
I am having a ball over here in the Big Apple. I got a Lifetime Achievement Award and everything last night, so we went for a few jars. And I did a lovely speech that Fionnuala gave me a hand with. She’s great for putting in the whole thing about family stuff. But the most exciting bit was this morning when they let me ring the bell opening the New York Stock Exchange. My God, the thrill! I felt like I was in primary school ringing the bell for the lunchtime. The head was a bit sore from the night before though, so I had to take a very swift step backwards after I rang it the first time to see what damage it caused. Much like my economic policies, in fact. And I’m trying to work on my Oirish accent so that Obama will like me again after stealing all the American businesses with the low corporation tax and everything. I reckon that maybe if I can get away with being an Irish leprechaun he’ll just have a chuckle and put the whole thing down to having drank too much Guinness, or having gone a bit overboard at the céilí or something. These Yanks, they’re easily fooled. Throw on the Oirish accent, put a bit of extra ginger dye in the hair (just a slightly different mix than usual) and they’ll just laugh the whole thing off.
Much as I hate to say it, I was somewhat grateful to Mary Lou today for causing that ruckus in the chamber and refusing to leave. It hid the fact that Joan had forgotten all of the colour-coordinated notes I made out for her on Irish Water (she left them at Noonan and Varadkar’s joint gaff party the other night) and was actually just mumbling the Hail Mary in Irish and gesturing as widely as she could. God bless the backbenchers though, they didn’t have a clue what was going on but they played along anyway fair play to them, loads of nodding. What more could a Taoishmuck ask of his devotees? Anyway, we’ve started calling that other Sinn Féin one Mary Loo McDonald since her mad dash to the toilet after her “sit-in”. And also because she’s full of shite. Seriously, I’m sure one of the lads would’ve lent her an umbrella if she really didn’t want to go outside in the rain. She was voted out fair and square. Poor Seán Barrett, he got so upset by her staying in there that he just left. It’s like talking to a brick wall when you’re trying to chat with Mary Loo.
I had a bit of a cackle about the whole thing with Noonan this evening over a glass of whiskey on the Skype. Sometimes I feel like we’re Bert and Ernie. It’s getting more and more difficult to have a straight conversation with that man. Every time you ask him a question he’s not sure of the answer to he just starts quoting Yeats at random. It has made for some very interesting conversations.
“Who do you think is worse- Bertie Ahern or Gerry Adams?”
“And both that morning equally lay, in leaves no step had trodden black…”
“Are you having more whiskey or more chips?”
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…”
Whatevs. Noonan’s getting on a bit. It’s only natural. I should hike his pay.
These water meters are some craic altogether. Poor Joanie Burton, she’s had a rough week. She’s getting some shtick over this. Being barricaded in a community centre for hours- she hasn’t gone roughing it like that since she was a lowly TD canvassing for old women’s votes over a cup of tea and a Digestive. It’s worse than planting a commemorative tree in the rain. Lucky for me, I’m bulletproof. No lowly Digestives for this Taoishmuck. I’m a HobNob kind of a man. The Mrs, Fionnuala, said to me the other day that this was because I’m a HobKnob, but she was just annoyed because I told her I’d bring her back airplane biscuits from the trip to the States. It was a stupid joke anyway. Obviously if I were to be a biscuit I would be a Rich Tea(shmuck). Bulletproof. I’m telling you.