Immigration And The New Ireland

There are seminal moments in one's life. For example, do you remember the hot, clammy heart-beating-too-fast feeling that hit you when you were a goofy teenager and fell in love for the first time? Or do remember the end-of-the-world, exaggerated depths of depression you suffered when you realised it wasn't exactly reciprocated?

Your heart was torn asunder - until it happened all over again two days later.

Or how about the first time that you realised a film or a book could be more than "just" entertainment - that they could be pointers to how you lived your life?

Well, today I was reminded, as I approach my half-century, that one is never too old for magical moments.

Picture the scene: I enter The Coach House Hotel in Oranmore (great Italian food by the way) in search of sustenance both liquid and food-based, after an arduous morning sweating over the laptop, only to be told that I am a bowsie and a gurrier for some of the things I have been saying in print. Imagine my shock!

I laughed until I stopped. At this point I should explain that your Humble Narrator was never blessed with a thin, sensitive skin so the fact that the said statement came from one of the Fianna Fáilures' Party Faithful almost had me rolling in the aisles.

It certainly added to the gaiety of any customers in the vicinity.

Being lectured on morals and ethics by a member of the Fianna Fáil Party, a party whose name has become synonymous with lies, corruption, bent zoning practices and brown envelopes is a bit like losing your virginity: at first you can't quite believe it's happening and by the time you do it's all over.

At his point I must add that I actually like - yes, you in the back row there, there ARE some people I like, not many but some - the individual involved.

God knows what he's doing with this shower of chancers, but each to their own I suppose.

Ah, what a refreshing start to the day. There's no feeling like knowing that you're upsetting all the right people. I just don't expect to be invited to any of their bucket-rattling shindigs any time soon.

We're being programed into not asking questions and if one is brash enough to ask them then he or she will very swiftly find themselves shut out of the loop, but that's okay.

As Groucho Marx said, "I'd never want to be a part of any club that had me as a member." And that goes double for the Fianna Fáilures.

And talking of dodgy practices...

"...now, with cable TV and video cassettes coming in, no one will ever have to get off his ass, even to go the corner for a movie. It's awful. One of the great things about going to a movie or the theatre is the act itself - the getting out, the buying of the tickets, the sharing of the experience with a lot of other people. Eighty per cent of the people who watch television watch it in groups of three or less, and one of those three is half stoned. Most people come home at night after work, have a couple of knocks before dinner and settle down in their living- death rooms. The way our society is evolving... has been very carefully thought out. It's not accidental. We're all being programed, and I bitterly resent it."
- Film director Sam Peckinpah in 1974.

He was right. We're being programed not to ask any questions apart from the most mundane.

Case in point: I've left our current banking woes alone so far as you in the States certainly have enough of your own.

But just to emphasise that it is an ill wind that blows no-one any good just look at how our Usual Suspects are benefiting from that particular Sirocco.

Anglo Irish Banks' Chairman, Sean FitzPatrick saw into the future and checked out Tuesday's deal by those good old boys at Fianna Fáil to bail out the banks. So what did he do?

Well, he did what any self-respecting Anglo chairman would do and immediately bought himself an extra 290,000 shares.

Now I am of course quite sure that this is all above board but don't you think it's just a teensy-weensy bit suspicious that Mr. FitzPatrick made TWELVE MILLION EUROS in ONE DAY because of his second sight?

Not just him. Along with the other senior bank managers, who had equally prescient visions, there was a total of €35,000,000 hoovered into their bank accounts. Nice work if you can get it, don't you think?

All right, does anyone want to say the words? Oh, what the hell, I'll say them for you: Insider Trading, anyone? And don't forget, just to save the editor the trouble, these are my views and don't reflect the views of this newspaper.

Just to be fair to Mr. FitzPartick and his newly swollen bank account he claims: "What I did, like other directors in the past, was to show my confidence in our shares by taking money out of my own resources to buy shares in Anglo Irish Banks."

Well, that's me convinced then. Oh, and by the way, another winged monkey has just flown past the window. They're all over the place these days!

Also highly amusing is a glance through the names of the twenty-one politicians from both Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael who have shares in the banks that were bailed out by the government.

Even supposing that they had a minimum investment of €13,000 that means they would have seen a return over one day of €2,993.46. Again, nice work if you can get it!

Of course it is unfair to single out anybody in particular but hey - who said life was fair? So I'll just mention two of the heroes whose names here will surprise nobody: Sean Haughey and Frank Fahey.

Mr. Fahey is a particular success story, now owning a property portfolio to rival Donald Trump, with something like ninety (who can keep count these days?) places from Boston to Moscow to South Africa.

All together now - sing along with me - nice work if you can get it! And you can get it if you're a T.D.!

Sing along now, and a one and a two....

On the religious front - isn't it great to hear that Pope Pius XII is being fast-tracked into superstardom after all that he didn't do for the Jewish community during Adolf's reach for a thousand year empire?

What do all these popes think, may I ask? Do they believe that when they fall off the twig they will be given some extra points in Heaven just because they've voted through a few frauds like Mother Theresa or Padre Pio?

Listen, guys. It doesn't work that way. Quite apart from the fact that there is nothing beyond this life I'm pretty sure that on the off-chance there is then simple logic tells you that you can't vote yourself into Heaven. And who'd want to be there anyway?

I'm also sure that most of the people whom I admire will be down under in the other place anyway so at least I can look forward to some good conversation as we burn for all eternity.

Let's see now: People that I'd like to share Hell with - Lord Byron; Robert E. Howard; H.P. Lovecraft; Ken Russell; Mary Shelley; Fidelma Healy Eames; Sam Peckinpah; Stephen King; Mark Twain; Victorian explorer Richard Francis Burton; Arthur Machen; Julie Burchill and my Aunt Mavis. At least the conversation would be good.

People I don't want to be in Heaven with: George Bush (scrub that one-he'll be in Hell with me); Mother Theresa; any priest or Muslim of any description; Dick Cheney; Sarah Palin; Madonna (under no circumstances!); film censors; Bono and Geldoff; and my Aunt Florence.

As for the banks, no doubt this one will run and run!

See you next week. Same bat-time! Same bat-channel!