Bats In The Belfry Of A Banana Republic

By Charley Brady

Regarding the gentlemen thieves of the state body known as FAS, I'll be writing a full piece on you next week.

For those who have been away from this corrupt banana republic for a while, however, I think that a recap is needed.

I'll deal with the scandal of FAS in all of its ignoble entirety next week.

It is a tale of chief Rody Molloy and his belief in grabbing as much as is humanly possible from the hapless tax payer; a tale of 'entitlement', first-class flights and round the world-trips with one's spouse.

It is a tale of meals costing thousands and of €900 tips to the waiter, all paid for by the taxpayer.

Even our old friend, Health Minister Mary Harney gets a look-in.

But first a recap of the culture that has allowed the ordinary worker to be treated with such shabbiness.

It almost seems like a pleasant memory, now. Only a few short months ago we basked in the knowledge that the corrupt, wasteful government of Fianna Fail simply held we, their employers, in contempt.

Now that feeling seems like the nostalgia of a warm summer remembered.

Not a week now goes past but that this shower of expensive suit and tie hatchet men and women seize on every opportunity they can, not only to remind us of their contempt for the fools who voted them into power, but to burden us additionally with the knowledge that they actively hate and despise us; and, indeed, will do everything in their power to grind us into ash before they are inevitably thrown out on a wave of growing anger. And for all the nonsense talked about the "Fighting Irish" they know that could take a while.

Hell, why wouldn't they hate and despise us?

We deserve it. We're the ones who handed the blank cheques over to them.

Oh sure, there's a lot of pseudo hard-jaw gobshites ("I'll fight any man here!") who will throw a few shapes for their equally tanked-up mates in the pub; but let a politician come in and offer to buy a round for everyone and suddenly it's "yes, sir, no sir. Three bags full, sir."

The forelocks are tugged; the status quo restored. Then these heroes will be bending your ear with what they SHOULD have said as soon as those that they perceive as their betters are out of earshot.

In Ireland, some things never change.

Or do they? Perhaps one of the reasons that the Fianna Failures hate and - dare I say it? - perhaps are even learning to fear us is because for the first time we are so down-trodden that we no longer give a damn.

Did these chisellers get a surprise when we threw the Lisbon Treaty into the gutter where it belonged?

Did they resent the fact that so many of them, as a consequence, found themselves unable to hop aboard the Gravy Train to Brussels, which as we all now know is the true capital of Ireland and where politicians can make a small fortune?

Those in Brussels are the ones who make the decisions that rule our destinies, not what used to be - oh, it seems like a fairy tale now - the Dáil in the city of Dublin.

So we embarrassed them in front of their European bosses.

Nikolas Sarkozy, for example, was very upset by our democratic vote and poor Brian Cowan, our esteemed Taoiseach by default (Bertie Ahern had to make alternative plans after his very dodgy financial dealings became public, remember?) had to take it on the chin when he would have served us better by telling the conniving little weasel to take a hike back to France and sort out his own country before he DARED to even DREAM of lecturing to the Irish.

Or do they hate us because, unexpectedly, the over-70s took to the streets to demonstrate against the fact that Big Brain Brian Lenihan, in cahoots with Health Minister Death's Head Harney demanded the removal of the Medical Card from the people who built this country?

That he inferred that they were being "unpatriotic" if they didn't obey docilely?

And now we learn that Big Brain is considering dipping into the pension funds in order to look after the banks.

Or was it because we shuddered at the callousness of a government who (as chronicled by this column over a couple of weeks) is willing to let women die in order to save €10 million?

Or increasing school fees and class sizes while cutting down on teachers?

Or that we failed to see the announcement that you the government - our servants - will be taking forty days worth of Christmas holidays this year?

Recession? What recession?

Does it really come down to it, as I said earlier, that we were so appalled and found that we couldn't accept what you were doing when you told the pensioners that you were taking their cards away from them - and driving at least one lady who, to my direct knowledge, died of worry because she didn't understand what was happening to her, you poisonous nest of arrogant and bloody vipers.

Absolute shame on all of you, you totally unreconstructed bullies. I include you all now; from inept Brian Cowan through Morticia Mary to the very grass-roots of you who hold on to belief in an outmoded and disgraced party.

And yet I reserve especial contempt for the limp Green Party.

Here we have a bunch of cowardly swine that talked the talk while in opposition, only to be brought to heel by their masters in Fianna Fail as soon as they were given the chance to enter what these craven, amoral hounds see as power.

Actually, we'll put that in inverted comas, shall we? They have no power except what FF allows them to hang onto.

Well, after all, what the limp Greens simply had to do was to sell every - ha! ha! - 'principle' that they never held in the first place; agree to be lickspittles to the boots of their new masters; sell their souls to these devils and stay quiet about every controversy that reared its head.

The Green Party leader, John Gormley - a true example of why we should never trust these bicycle-riding, tree-hugging, lentil-eating dipsticks - has come up with a good one, however, in these straitened times.

Yes! We have no bananas! We have no bananas today!

He has this week alone allocated to one cottage in Killarney a face-lift of €60,000 in order to keep a colony of bats nice and warm.

As he says, these are "intelligent, sociable creatures". I can only suppose that he means this does not apply to the locals who have a waiting list of 600 people just to get basic housing.

Then again, John, they're people; unlike the creatures involved in your new project, which I only came across today.

John Gormley by name and Gormless by nature has now decided that it is in the best interests of the country to allocate €500 to every farmer in Kerry who will dig a small metre-deep 'pond' for the natterjack toad to live in. (No, I'm not making this up.)

These 'ponds' will now become protected areas and the farmers will have to maintain them by seeing that a small amount of water is put into each. Jesus wept.

Will someone please let me know when that spineless sell- out John Gormless has once more arrived on Planet Earth?

At least that way I can make damn well sure to be gone from this time/space continuum for a while

Continuing with the arrogance of the Fat Cats:

FAS is the government body that is a sort of intermediary for those who are out of work and who wish to get back onto the workforce as soon as possible.

It began life as a wonderful idea and is, in my opinion (not everyone's) something that can continue to be relevant, as it gives decent training to those who require it.

Like everything here, however, those who want to live the Good Life without earning it have moved in.

Now there is controversy after controversy as Joe and Jane Soap see the extent to which we have, once more, been taken to the cleaners by unscrupulous men and women (and wouldn't you know it?)-'Death's Head' Harney once again features heavily.

I started writing this piece and then left it a few days ago.

In the meantime the well-fed, ruddy-faced Rody Molloy has resigned from FAS. But don't feel sorry for him: despite the obvious corruption occurring on his watch and backed up by Brian Cowen who has declared him a fine fellow altogether, he will be given a severance of €300,000 plus a state pension of more than €100,000 per year. He also holds onto TWO - count them - State jobs.

As I say, when the dust has settled and I can write about these creatures without simply giving vent to a primal howl of rage at the treatment we receive from them, then please tune in next week.

For some reason, this cast of solipsistic, self-serving, selfish odes to Man's capacity for greed reminded me of my childhood, now a considerable four decades in the past.

I look back and think of my father coming in from work and bundling us down to the beach.

Hey, let me tell you something: we didn't exactly grow up in California so it was bloody freezing even in the summer.

But you know what? They were great days, because my brothers and myself instinctively knew that he couldn't afford to take us anywhere special.

If he only knew it, that IS where he was taking us: to a place that I live in often in my memory during the tough times in my life.

I heard a woman put it in similar manner when she described the long night of the soul that she spent when trying to get her mother - a woman who had worked her entire life - a hospital bed.

The following morning she saw the other side of Ireland when Rody Molloy's arrogant expenditure began to unravel.

She simply found herself crying uncontrollably. I know how she felt.

As I say, I thought of this when I saw the sheer selfishness of what this state body and this government were capable of this week and intend to bring it to you in full next week

And with respect to John Gormless and his bat cottage (new roof, new doors, custom-made exits?) I'll hope to see you - no pun intended - next week.

Same bat-time! Same bat-channel!