Grand Wizards, Neo-Nazis And Other Happy People

By Charley Brady

It's all snuggly happy times here in Ireland at the moment. Well, unless after having worked all your life you find yourself in the welfare queue and being told that you will have to "share the pain", that is.

Or unless you're an unmarried mother who is looked down on and treated like garbage while the ladies who lunch go about collecting for what they call charity.

Unless you are not a tax exile who has been left totally untouched by The Wig's Budget.

Unless you are not a disgraced banker who is now free to live off the fat of the land and laugh your head off at the suckers who have lost their pensions.

Unless you're not a member of Fianna Fail and can openly boast about having around ninety properties in you're very tasty portfolio.

Unless your not one of those shiny happy speculators who are lucky enough to actually HAVE a portfolio.

Unless you were not one of the people who had to stand in line in Dublin last week to be handed a food parcel.

Yeah, life's good.

We've had Brian Lenihan, his appalling ill-fitting suit and shiny new wig delivering his savage (but new and improved!) budget; we've had the other Brian, Cowen the Clown sitting looking shifty and just a wee bit uncomfortable while his Finance Minister's wig read it out to us, but...

Back to them later.

Because it's all good news this week. Well, unless you're black, hispanic, Polish, a homosexual, a Jew or just basically anyone that's not white and blue-eyed.

You see, we have a real man coming to town. His name is David Duke and that good ol' boy is certainly going to put manners on us. He calls himself a neo-Nazi and I suppose he's quite proud of that. Who knows why? I certainly don't. Maybe because - and this is just a hunch - I'm sane?

The former Ku Klux Klan member who changed the title of Grand Wizard to National Director (sounds so much more user-friendly) should be easy enough to spot as he comes through Customs. He'll be the one wearing the pointy little hat on his head and probably carrying a placard saying "God hates Faggots".

Sorry, I forgot: they wear, under his instructions, business suits with annoying little pocket-handkerchiefs these days.

I had a look at his Stormfront website yesterday and I haven't stopped showering since.

But what can you say? I'm a straight man, white and according to you and your ignorant like a race traitor. Oh, wait! I do have brown eyes so obviously some black Moorish blood got into my polluted veins at some stage in the past. Just wait until I see my mother, David. Questions will be asked.

Good old David said in his White Pride discussion forum: "I am doing some research for my new book and looking forward to meeting some Irish patriots in the land of my ancestors."

Apart from the fact that I break out in a sweat every time I hear the word patriot, every damned thing about that sentence makes we want to shout "Pillock" into your Aryan ears.

Mr. Duke, my ancestors were from Cavan and I can assure you that the whirring noise you are currently hearing comes from them spinning very rapidly in their graves at the thought that a pig-ignorant racist such as yourself would even dare to get off the plane here.

I know that you are more articulate and better dressed than your cannon fodder but to me you have proved yourself time and again to be one spit on the ground removed from your snaggle-toothed followers. Personally, if I accidentally stood on you I wouldn't even bother to wipe my shoe.

I'm tempted to say WE. DON'T. WANT. YOU. HERE.

But it's much better, I think, to let the author of "Jewish Supremacism: My Awakening on the Jewish Question" spew out his hatred and let us all have a good laugh.

I was interested to see that your website targets members of the media who don't agree with you, so you better bring some of your buddies with you. Remember, some of us shoot back.

Then again, that's taking it for granted - how stupidly optimistic of me - to think that any ragbag who would follow you can actually read a map. Here's a clue to all of you brain-dead pond-life: go to Iceland and then turn right.

I know, Mr. Duke, that your followers can't even read except for guys like you reciting "The Turner Diaries" out loud to them while following the line with your finger and trying hard not make your lips move, so we'll just have to live in hope.

Am I on your black list now? Jeez, I hope so. Life wouldn't be worth living if I didn't take a swing at one-celled amoebas such as your dear self.

What is this thing with the masks, anyway? We media types that you hate so much mostly stick our real names on to our columns. You'll have to ask the editor why he doesn't have my photograph but, between you and I, I think it's because I look like a cross between George Clooney and Brad Pitt and he doesn't want to be upstaged.

What I'm saying is that we're not cowardly vermin who have to hide behind a curtain or a mask.

So if you've finished burning your crosses for the day, fretting about how those Jew bastards are taking over the world; the blacks are mating with "our" women, and the homos have waaay too many rights, then could you do something for me please?

On the proud Aryans who made that half-assed attempt on Obama's life, could you just tell that dimwit who was part of that ludicrous episode that it's probably not a great idea to change your name to Sean Adolph. Kind of a give away, I would have thought. But then again, I have a brain.

I seriously believe that if you put half-a-dozen of your dopes in a room together a fight would break out as they scrambled to find their one and only brain cell.

You're intention here is to stir it up with the upcoming revisit to the Lisbon vote.

Sorry to tell you, we already have a diverse culture here and guess what? We kinda like them.

OK, it could be better: I could have my dream ladies Meryl Streep or Jessica Lange hanging out in my apartment, but you can't have every thing.

Or, and chance would be a fine thing, the divine Angela Bassett. You wouldn't approve, though, Mr. Duke. She's black. God, they're everywhere, aren't they? What's a redneck to do?

I guess that Lenihan's painted-on hair and awful suit will just have to wait for next week.

When I hope to see you all, same bat-time! Same bat-channel!

And Aryans only!

And Foley! A cheque - even a rubber bouncy one - will do at this stage!

You can reach Charley at chasbrady7@eircom.net