Keep The Knackers Out!

By Charley Brady

I had intended to break the mould this week and do a nice happy-clappy article about the things to enjoy in this benighted world. But you know what they say: Man makes plans and God laughs. And so it came to pass.

I'm heading away for a month, first to Scotland and then to my beloved Mexico and since I'll be away for my 50th birthday one of my few friends wanted to take six of us for a meal.

We had a problem though: you see, five of us are "normal" (whatever that is) while he, William, is, to use that awful term, a knacker.

This as you probably know is a disparaging term that is used to describe members of the Travelling community.

Yeah, well, William is a settled Traveller and father of two.

Himself and his partner are two of the most decent people I know and I am always proud to be in their company.

Most people with half an ounce of brain seem to feel the same.

An Púcán, the bar/ restaurant in Galway's Forster Street was the place we chose and having eaten there before I have to admit the food is great.

But unfortunately we had a Traveller in our midst and there's no way he was going to get in, despite the fact that he has never been in there and isn't the sort to cause trouble anyway.

I asked to speak to the manager, who I have to admit listened with politeness but explained that since his doormen had made a decision on William that was that.

He did say that the rest of we "normal" people could attend his premises if we wished but naturally we refused and I certainly wouldn't be near the place again.

Jeez, we have bent over backwards in this country to welcome every nationality that comes into it, but we can't welcome one of our own.

Go figure.

For the record, O'Riardan's in Oranmore welcomed us with open arms.

Sean, who is the chef there and where the food is equally excellent didn't appear to have a problem.

I spoke to Michael, who is the manager and Declan, the owner and they were both of the opinion that until someone caused trouble they weren't in the business of turning anyone away.

It got me thinking, though, about our strange attitudes to racism. We certainly send out mixed signals, don't we?

I'm the first to admit that Travellers are often their own worst enemies and there's many a time when I've felt like taking a slash-hook to them myself, but when it comes to one individual wouldn't it be better to give them the benefit of the doubt?

Just an idea.

Mind you, one respectable and supposedly normal figure that I certainly wouldn't be letting next or near my premises would be the ghastly Michael Lynn, the "out of control" - to use his own words - lawyer who hightailed his sorry ass out of the country 14 months ago, leaving a lot of people €80 million poorer.

Since he was robbing from the banks and now threatens to name and shame them, my heart isn't bleeding too much.

The more of these sods that we see getting outed the more I'll like it. I still don't see them doing any time, however. I'm just not that optimistic.

I almost caught up with the waster in Bulgaria last year, where he was swanning around without a care in the world and refusing to be interviewed.

This week, though, he broke his silence from Portugal - how DO these guys do it? - to whine and blubber that he was a victim - a VICTIM, can you believe, of the success of the Celtic Tiger.

Why he and his fellows who have decimated Ireland are not in jail will forever escape me.

Oh, I keep forgetting. It's easier to blame the country's woes on unmarried mothers; two-bit hustlers; and people scraping through and occasionally getting paid in the hand because they don't have the where with all to tie the courts up in litigation for years.

You did give me a laugh, though, Michael. I'm so used to seeing you in your designer suits that I almost didn't recognise you in your casuals and running shoes.

What message were you trying to get through? That you're just one of the guys?

The only "guys" that you're friends with are the fellow rats that thought nothing of screwing us.

By the way, one of those rats - who hates my guts, can't think why - tells me that they'd rather shove a red-hot poker somewhere unmentionable than ever be seen in your company again.

Tough life, ain't it? Think about that as you whimper about wishing you could return to Ireland.

Still, money's tight all around as the Government keeps reminding us, so it came as no surprise to see that that the national broadcaster's pet journalist Charlie Bird is having the government jet, the Gulfstream IV make a detour en route to Mexico City to pick him up.

Charlie is of course famous for doing reports from war zones that he isn't in and almost having a heart attack when he found a bug in his tent in the Amazon.

He was in the Amazon, for crying out loud! What did he expect? A fluffy little cat?

Bird of Kuwait as he is affectionately known is now with you in the States for the next few years. For this we thank you. vWe also thank you that you're taking tax-dodger Bono to New York for a year.

You simply have no idea what a relief that is to Ireland. One suggestion: could you keep him there?

You see? How hard was that? There are indeed reasons to be happy!

I could go on but it's time for my medication! And these damned straps are so constricting.

Which reminds me, to the imbecile who emailed me to say that I was making fun of mental illness, go **** yourself. And how do you know I'm not really ill?

Do you have cameras watching me? Are you TRYING to make paranoid.?

NURSE! NURSE! My medication NOW, please. They're out to get me!

If they let me out of the restraints I hope to see you next week.

Same bat-time! Same bat-channel!

You can reach Charley at chasbrady7@eircom.net