More Adventures in the Camp of Failures

By Charlie Brady

Well, there you go. I've never been a great fan of blood sports. I suppose that the furthest I've ever gone in that department is when I had a hell of a love of boxing in my late teens and early twenties.

I really liked the feeling of battering another human into submission, for some bizarre reason.

What happened after that? I grew up, is what happened. I began to look at the idiots who were happy to watch us do this and then I began to think for myself and look at the dudes who dress up every Sunday in their jodhpurs and their riding gear, collect their dogs and jump joyously on to their nags just so that they can look rather dashing while riding off in search a fox.

(Now admittedly, since the Olympics, I have discovered a fondness for two sporting events that I actually like: women's beach volleyball and bikini cricket. Don't ask me why. It must be a guy thing.)

But more seriously I've just heard of two men who, only yesterday in the heart of Galway, went into an impromptu bare- knuckle fight while five hundred tourists with nothing better to do snapped their cameras and thought what great fun this was.

It was bare knuckle, for crying out loud; and until the police broke it up it was, despite the blood and the sound of bone against bone - hey, just entertainment. Barbarism, anyone?

Yet this week I actually began to like blood sports again and it started with this unprecedented revolt against our vicious, worthless Government.

Now that is a blood sport that I can understand.

I am so really enjoying seeing people wake up to these creeps and giving them a good dose of reality through the demonstrations against their savage budget here.

An estimated 15,000 people marched on the Government buildings last week to protest against the fact that you overpaid jokers were scything such lethal cuts to the elderly in our society; and now it's followed by the other group that you targeted, you vicious and uncaring bunch of pompous imbeciles. Kind of backfired, all right.

So now, days later, you had 12,000 of the young that you turned your sights on marching up to your buildings because of the education cuts that you are bringing in. You're cutting out what you claim to be 200 teachers, while in reality it will work out at about 2,200 while at the same time you are increasing class sizes to over forty.

Have you lost your minds altogether, you bunch of cretins?

At the same time you are refusing to back down and not in any way will alter education in prisons - you do remember prisons, don't you? You know, those big walls where you go to be punished when you have done nasty things - and are insisting that a teacher there looks after a class of eight. Give me strength!

According to your own shambolic estimates, most of these pillars of society don't even bother to turn up any way!

The buffoon of an Education Minister Batt O'Keeffe stood there last night in complete defiance of those who were demonstrating, showing the most appalling arrogance that I've yet seen from this dopey but lethal government.

No, I'm sorry. Minister for Integration Conor Lenihan actually managed to trump him when he stood up and gave a Nazi Sieg Heil salute. What can you possibly say to that?

Even for this imbecilic non- Government, this just has to be a record in the annals of how to be a complete idiot and yet get away with it.

Hitler salutes by the big brains to the little people. You simply couldn't make that one up. Could you?

But no, hold on a second: is this the same Lenihan who referred to Eastern Europeans as "kebabs"? Yes, it is indeed the same suit and tie John that made that contemptible remark. You gotta love the Fianna Failures, do you not?

Nazi salutes; referring to eastern Europeans as "kebabs"; so let's make him Minister for Integration! That is their thinking.

Jesus wept. What Planet Moron are you living on and can I have the constellation destination please.

Just so that I can avoid that quadrant of the Fianna Failure galaxy, because one thing is for sure, you bunch don't belong in my world.

And soak this into your miniscule brains: it's called the real world.

I think, though, that despite your arrogance and utter contempt for the people that you SERVE, this time we won't forget and we sure as hell won't forgive.

It feels strange to bring in news from the States at this point, but I simply have to ask. Frivolous it may be, but let's go for it.

What in the name of sanity was Pamela Anderson, at the age of 41, doing by poncing around entirely naked and handing birthday cakes to Hugh Hefner, exactly twice her age, while the old lecher ogled (or pretended to ogle - I'm sure he's seen it all at this stage) her assets.

There is just something wrong about that and the woman should just put them away while she concentrates on rearing her kids, who will have to look at these embarrassing antics.

Then she comes out with that ludicrous statement that the Hef insists everyone must be naked in the Playboy hot tub because he doesn't like lint getting into it.

Oh, just stop talking and put your clothes back on, you silly woman.

Now comes the difficult part: after years of slagging off Bono the Bore I find that I have to defend him. Can't be helped, because I hate to see anyone - yes, even Bono - being attacked for no reason.

Photos of him in the South of France last week emerged here, showing him laughing with a coupe of teens in bikinis.

It was immediately made out to be something that it patently was not.

He may be an annoying little tax-dodger who gets on one's nerves but over his twenty-odd year marriage I have never heard a thing to suggest that the man plays around.

So please, fellow colleagues, let's not try to make a story where there isn't one. It was obviously an innocent photo. Give the reader more credibility.

And on that note, let me say that I hope to see you next week.

Same bat-time! Same bat-channel!