Some Integrity & More Duplicity

I don't want to put you off your breakfast as I would imagine that you are as sick of hearing about the recession as I am.

Yes, we all know that there is one at this stage. You would have to be as deaf, dumb and blind stupid as our government not to know that much by now.

They're the ones that got us into this by squandering money while in their miserable tenure in power, but now they're talking the large talk about how they will save us. Oh, yes.

Hell, they're still on their forty-day Christmas break while others, including our beloved leader Brian Cowen (we seem to have a soft spot for him because there is something in the Celtic psyche that sympathises with inept dopes) and some of his entourage have been trying to cod us that they are fighting the Good Fight while in reality are swanning around Japan.

Sure, nice work if you can get it and you can get it if you're a politician.

Yet meanwhile what I see in the village of Oranmore where I live is people being made on an almost daily basis - that horrible word - "redundant" - while the gobdaws who got us into this in the first place take the proverbial while riding a gravy train to good old Brussels where the carriages never seem to end. And the lay-offs are country-wide.

A bank gets nationalised. No big deal.

Those running the banks and FAS geniuses who had lived off the hog for years get WONDERFUL severance payments while Joe Soap who has just been made redundant gets to worry about his mortgage or his rent and look on in bafflement as these unredeemable, non-accountable sodbusters ride off into the sunset with happy grins on their faces because they just don't give a click of their fingers for what they have done.

A lot of people are up to their neck in hock because during the good times they had to have the latest registered car; the house that was far too big for them; the other place in Europe that they couldn't really afford. But it was expected of them.

All because they had it drummed into them that the Good Times would never end when anyone with a couple of brain cells to collide in those vast empty heads knew that it couldn't last.

In some ways this recession might be good for Ireland if it makes us get back the sense of values that we had lost.

We may even see a return to basic manners. Who knows? A little humble pie can be a good thing sometimes.

If you never had a reason to work out that there is absolutely no God you just had to see a truly decent, unbelievably hard- working politician die last week of cancer at the age of 61 while the other crew go on and shamelessly on.

The independent T.D. Tony Gregory was that rare thing in politics - a byword for decency and integrity.

He did unending work for the inner city of Dublin that he hailed from and as a result of his popularity he spent 27 straight years in the Dáil as a deputy, the longest-serving independent in Ireland's history.

The work he did was Trojan and he was that rare thing: a man of genuine principles.

Of course this made him many enemies and in the beginning he was very much the victim - if anyone could ever have seriously called him that - of a dirty tricks campaign that he makes clear in his final interview with "Hot Press" magazine he believes to have been orchestrated by Bertie Ahern.

Still, despite this it wasn't surprising to see many of the crowd who had tried to hinder him in his work appear brazenly at his funeral, crocodile tears spraying all over the place.

One of them, needless to say, was Bertie himself. Don't forget that if there is the slightest possibility of a photo- opportunity these people feel absolutely no shame. It was a sickening sight.

Still, at least one of the eulogies must have had these phonies squirming in their seats.

After all, the person being laid to rest was a man. I'm not sure what you would call some of these characters. Well, not in a family newspaper, anyway.

Tony Gregory was, to use that overused term accurately for once, a well-loved man of the people.

And he will be badly-missed.

One person that wouldn't be in the slightest way missed is the arrogant Bishop of Cloyne John Magee who is at the centre of our latest never-ending child abuse scandals.

Children were at risk due to the diocese not responding in an appropriate manner when the allegations started.

He also claimed to be fully compliant with the Health Service Executive but instead simply wasn't.

He didn't even tell them about allegations against four priests.

Just another mess that was mixed with fudge and cover- up.

Despite the calls for his resignation I can't see him going.

After all, that would mean giving up that fine four million euro mansion he lives in and possibly even his town house.

Come off it, this is the Church that we're dealing with here. They don't do humble.

Here in the village we have a real medieval beauty of a priest who turns away children whose parents want to have them Christened if the parents don't live in a state of holy wedlock.

Why this should be visited on innocent babies is as beyond me as any of the church's doings.

They usually end up going to the neighbouring parish of Maree where, in fairness, I am told that they are treated extremely well.

Not really surprising, is it? After all, this lot think that the world is at grave risk because of homosexuality. It's hard to make sense of them on any level, really.

In the meantime, while we scratch our heads and wonder why we ever listened to them I'm off to Scotland. But I hope to still get to send off one of these undoubtedly thrilling missives that life wouldn't be complete without, next week.

Same bat-time! Same bat-channel!