Diary of a Taoishmuck

 
 

Dear Diary,

Poor Justin Trudeau, that (very) hot mess! When he interrupted that lady to tell her Mankind was “Peoplekind” I could have died! I thought he knew you aren’t supposed to have a liberal opinion until it’s super popular and everyone will think you’re great for it, like what I do! Now he’s being laughed at by everyone. Imagine if I’d said I support abortion back before the Citizens’ Assembly or the Oireachtas Committee! I’d be one of them weirdo fundamentalists like in Labour  who will never be Taoiseach. I only hope for God’s sake that he doesn’t say anything unpopularly liberal about selling arms to the Saudis. Then he’d be in a right state!

 

Dear Diary,

Met with Sinn Fein, the DUP, and Theresa May. Wasn’t as boring as those awful brexit talks, but I can still think of fifty things I’d rather be doing. Like, I know it’s controversial, but if May wants to be like Maggie couldn’t she just, like, use brute force to get them to behave? If Maggie couldn’t fix it, I don’t know who can. It’s been more than a year of “Talks” and I’m getting bored.

 

 

Dear Diary,

Today I announced a million billion euro masterplan to rebuild Ireland by 2040! There will be houses, trains, a monument to Cher, and pina colada sold in all pubs by then. Paschal Donohoe told me not to, but I put some aside to build a new gay bay for the young ones, but that’s just to keep them outta the George. Honestly! All I want is to find a nice husb partner but since the Dragon closed it’s just full of young ones with blue hair who make me feel old and think I’m bad just because I didn’t do anything about the Gender Recognition Bill when I was Minister for Social Protection. Like, I’m in a gay bar for the shift, why do they think I care?

Anyway, at least now I can point to this when people whinge about the housing crisis or transport in Dublin. It’s not my fault it’ll take twenty years. I’ve been giving advice on how to be as middle class as me for ages and they just make fun of me. Obviously I know what I’m talking about, otherwise I wouldn’t be where I am! If they don’t like my advice they can lump it and wait 20 years for a house. It’s not my problem anymore.

 

Dear Diary,

OMG, they’re here. After months of waiting they arrived in the post today. The bedsheets from heaven. King size, Egyptian cotton, and Maggie Thatcher’s face adorning every square inch of it. I’m in love, diary. Every night I can sleep underneath the face that I have dreamed of every night since 1989. She was elected the same year I was born you know? It was meant to be…

 

Dear Diary,

I had the day off today, so I decided to treat myself. I lay in my Thatcher adorned bed until about half 10. My god she’s as comfy as I imagined her. I got up and went for a run. I used to get annoyed the way all the homeless urchins would stick up signs or sprawl their legs out, but now I pretend that they’re hurdles and bound over them. God you think they’d have the decency to keep the paths clear. Anyway, got home and ate my usual 4½ avocados, and got in to my usual comfies of a repeal jumper and lycra bike shorts. Watched reruns of Takeshi’s Castle – I love watching all the poor people run into things. Idiots. Bet they don’t get up early in the morning…

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