Ladies And Gentlemen, Please Stand For Your New National Anthems!

"An inland revenue agent from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1949)."
- from a brilliant email now doing the rounds. By the way, cricket is now mandatory in all Irish schools and rightly so when you have sold the soul of your country. We deserve cricket: cricket and Brian Cowen

By Charley Brady

Now on what should have been a quiet day of reflection on Saturday November 5 as I write this, it turned out to be anything but.

I was in my local, the Olde Brewery, Oranmore when a rugby game came on. Stuck in my newspaper and only half listening, well, guess what? Talk about about being brought to galvanised attention!

This was the Ireland vs. New Zealand match from the Aviva Stadium in Dublin and does this not impress me?

Not really, to be honest.

But what in hell were they playing Ireland's national anthem for? And even more ludicrously following it with "Ireland's Call?"

I mean, I can understand why New Zealand would stand to attention for their anthem - they're probably proud of their country - but why aren't WE listening to "God Save Our Gracious Queen"?

Why aren't we listening to Germany's national anthem for heaven's sake? After all, Official Ireland supported them throughout World War Two - even down to the Uncle Adolf sympathiser, de Valera, flying Ireland's flag at half mast after the Führers' death and signing the book of condolences while making damned sure that we took in as few Jewish refugees as we had to.

So why aren't we hearing the anthem of Angela Merkel? We're answering to them as well after all.

I've discovered of late that it is absolutely fascinating to be in an Irish pub and be sober. It's only of late, mind you.

I think my liver was whispering sweet nothings to me during the night; and I listened to it for a change.

There I was, looking at two gobshites that were boasting about how drunk they were from a wedding the previous night. They were as proud as a dog with two - yes, you know - that they had stolen a plastic Jesus from their bedroom.

They were thrilled with this, for some bizarre reason, even though the head was broken off - perhaps it had ascended to Heaven to be seated at the right hand of Alfredo Garcia.

So in other words here are two idiots, yet there is one of them, tears streaming down his face as the anthem plays out and he stands - mercifully quiet for once - and sways slightly while pretending that he knows the words.

Jesus wept.

He probably thought that he still had a country that didn't now have to kiss the ass of every Eurocrat who enters it; just in fact as every one of our politicians had to do to the backside of the IMF hatchet man Ajal "the Chopper" Chopra this week.

Every time in the future that I get one more vicious email attacking me because I have been saying for months that our government has sold its sovereignty and what was left of its soul; every time I have someone say that I always see the negative; every damned time that I am accused of being a Raven - well, let me now tell THEM to accentuate the positive.

Raise your glasses, you bunch of go-be-the-walls:

Here is to Prince William and his bride to be, the future Queen Catherine of Britain and whatever is left of their Empire these days. At least yesterday they added the south of Ireland to it again!

If you are not toasting them then you should be.

His grandmother and her future granny-in-law's exchequer are putting over €7 billion into Ireland in order to bail us out of the mess that traitors and Enemies of the State like Cowen, Charlie McCreavy, Bertie Ahern (IN PARTICULAR!) and Brian Lenihan, seen to be total liars this week, got us into.

Oh; and Bertie; I've been looking at your speaking arrangements lately. I'm baffled that you still have any at all but glad to see that your prices appear to have waaaaay dropped and that in some cases you yourself have been - oh, the horror! - dropped completely. Then again you are no longer allowed to swan off abroad if there is a Dail vote to be taken, which you have hitherto been allowed to do, you unredeemable creep of a money grubbing bloodsucker.

Still, you clawed back some of what you lost by already having put in for €31,282 in "expenses" for the first nine months of this year. Well done, we're all so proud of you and don't in the slightest hope that you rot in Hell.

I also was glad to see that your daughter Cecilia (who I had for some reason previously admired) has given us the riveting information that she was your proof-reader on your failed, useless and full of provable lies, autobiography.

Now it doesn't surprise me that a cheapskate like you, Bertie, would have your own overworked daughter working for free.

Nor that you would think that you were even capable of doing your own editing, having just edited an entire country almost out of existence. You are a mean grasping person who would bend over in a prison shower if you saw a cent stuck in a piece of soap.

I mean, the image that your daughter portrays of you: how can you help but love it?

There you are, sitting by the pool, lake or ocean and editing your own manuscript when - ooohh, the loss to the world it would have been - all the pages that you have spent months fabricating (sorry, writing) go sailing west, due to some tropical gust of wind into the pool/lake/ocean/puddle (the latter being my personal preference).

Cecilia dives into the pool or what ever and saves the day by grabbing all the pages and presumably drying them over the barbeque.

This is great and heroic stuff!

But wait!

Didn't that happen in a movie? I've been trawling through the Net on everything for the British film "Love, Actually", looking for Hugh Grant and typing in "Lake Scene".

After ten minutes of nothing but porn coming up on the screen it turned out to be actually Colin Firth whose pages had blown into the lake.

Oh no! Could it be true that yet another member of the previously trustworthy Ahern family has [gasp] fabricated something?

Surely not!

Please send your answers on whether these two episodes sound familiar to the email address below. Go on, friends of Cecilia, Bertie and Colin Firth: you know that you want to.

As of this week Ireland could not be a bigger laughing stock than it already is. Cowen, who to me is no better than the criminals that he presides over is still refusing to have a general election. He and anyone - ANYONE - who is still connected with Fianna Fail now know that their days are numbered so all that they can do is make sure that they drag their thievery, their criminality, their evasion of the truth and their days on the gravy train out as long as they can.

I don't actually know why they are worried so much. I have so little faith in people that I would not in the slightest bit be surprised to see the same venomous serpents voted in again.

Come on, what do I tell a young person - or even not so young - the next time they ask me: Why should I vote? Who would I vote for?

You know, they're right. Anybody that we voted for in the past is now null and void as regards what they can do in the capacity of a job that he or she never cared for any way, apart from the fact that all that any politician in this country of either party has ever cared for is how much they could gouge out of their position.

Why should anyone vote for someone, now that it is ultimately Europe that will decide what we do - including on the upcoming budget.

We have no say at all any more and if any of the politicians who tell you that they have even the slightest input, then let me tell you that they are even more than the proven liars that they have already shown themselves to be.

You want to change something? When the General Election comes around slam your door on the faces of EVERY party whose members, I assure you, will not have been seen in your neighbourhood for years.

Don't listen to their promises of what they will do for you next time around.

They won't do anything. They can't.

Don't even bother to ask them why we still have a health system that third world countries would be ashamed of.

Don't bother to ask them why there is no end to immigrants coming into a country that has taken more than its fair share and just can't keep going while unemployed Irish people commit suicide.

Slam that door.

In particular do not under any circumstance listen to them when they are being reasonable. Always remember this: all the major parties have had the chance to change things in the last decade. They didn't, because they are all, every one of them, to some extent or other on the gravy train.

Why not vote for the tiniest party you can find, even if they think that space aliens will be landing soon. Vote for anyone except the chancers we have in and the ones who have failed to seriously challenge them until the damage was done.

At the moment of writing every one is excited about Labour's Pat Rabbitte, who let out an almighty tirade against FF's Pat Carey the other night and as a result has become a national hero.

I can't disagree with what he said but Jeez, it shows you how badly we need heroes when the country falls for a windbag that I used to hear holding court in Dohenny and Nesbitt's in Dublin back in the 90s.

He was just another one of the gougers then, mouthing out of him while doing sweet Fanny Adams in practical terms except to let anyone who was in the vicinity of him know that they had no chance of sitting in peace after a hard day's work.

Fair play to him. He saw an opportunity, felt a sea change coming and grasped the nettle (sorry for the mixed metaphors there, folks); but let me tell you something in all earnestness.

At your peril you would be well advised to trust this joker no more than you would trust any other suit and tie John.

You know something? These days you can trust nobody. Not the guys in suits and CERTAINLY not the scumbags who dress down and pretend to be Anarchists without even having a notion of what the hell that word means. ("C'mon man, let's break a few windows and burn a few bleedin' cars, wha--?")

Don't trust the reasonable sounding moralists who will tell you that we have lost our way because of ungodliness.

Don't trust priests and certainly don't trust anyone who sounds reasonable and speaks to you in hushed, cultured tones.

Don't trust me and don't ever trust a journalist who says that he is right in all things. That person is no different to a chancer of a politician.

Don't trust the English; for heaven's sake do not trust the Scots or any small country that still has a grudge to bear.

Don't trust Puerto Ricans. You know that they will spray paint your house on the way down when you throw them from the roof.

Don't trust Jews because... oh hell, just don't trust them.

Don't trust the mad Muslims or you'll end up either stoning people or being stoned to death.

Don't trust dogs: they're vicious and will bite you but it is OK to trust cats. With them, what you see is what you get.

Here's a positive: try trusting your own instincts. If a politician sounds incredibly sincere but something is just "off" about him then you are probably right in your suspicions. Especially if he is a Muslim, a Catholic, a Jew, a (specifically) Northern Irish Protestant or a Scientologist or even just someone that your parents told you to stay away from. Don't trust any of them.

Try to arm yourself with as much information as possible; because information is powerful. In the case of the politicians and their masters, they have discovered that WITHHOLDING information from you is also powerful. Don't let them do it.

Don't mind the fact that Cowen and Lenihan are still refusing to call this a bailout. By the time you read this article even those two liars supreme will have had to admit it.

And before I begin to sound like Fox Mulder here's some of a hilarious, sad and true email that is doing the rounds here at the moment:

To: The citizens of the Republic of Ireland:

In light of your absolute incompetence in running your own affairs, by continually electing the same shower of useless, greedy and corrupt politicians, the shocking financial crisis of the last 3 years but most of all your complete inability to bring anyone to account for this mess or take to the streets to demonstrate your anger, Her Majesty feels compelled to take immediate action.

You have had had 88 years to get this right but have made a complete hames of it. You cannot blame the mainland for this one.

Additionally, because of your total fascination for supporting English football teams (and 1 Scottish) and almost total failure to support the Airtricity league. This is an obvious expression of your desire to be British.

The final straw was the announcement of Prince William's forthcoming marriage appearing on the front page of all major newspapers and headline TV news on the very day that Europe were trying to finalise the takeover of the Irish economy. This clearly demonstrates a sub-conscious desire to be British and not European!

Therefore, we give notice of the revocation of your independence, and effective immediately, Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over the Irish Free State.

Your new prime minister, David Cameron, will appoint a governor for Ireland immediately.

Her Majesty's government is extremely concerned that Ireland has already given up its sovereignty to Brussels and Strasbourg, the European Central Bank, the International Monetary Fund and anyone else you can borrow a few quid off so is taking this action to protect both the people of Ireland and to restore the British Isles to it's proper status.

Dail Eireann and Seanad Eirann will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine if any of you noticed. All current TDs will be immediately re-deployed, some arrested and tried for treason.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. The Irish language is not banned, but will no longer be part of the school curriculum, no longer share equal status with English and all signs in Irish are to be removed immediately. They are pointless. TG4 will be disbanded.
2. RTE will be disbanded: you all watch BBC, ITV and Sky Sports anyway. The money saved will pay for Road Signs.
3. March 17th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.
4. Bacon and Cabbage are hereby banned - no one likes it. Similarly, Abrakebabra is banned immediately and will be replaced with handily placed kebab vans within each district. Indian resteraunts will also open until 4am.
5. You will re-learn your original national anthem, God Save the Queen. [Ha! What did I tell you?] ...

There's more - much more - and whoever sent this out is a genius.

You can read the rest of it here.

Don't ever say that this column can't appreciate a joke.

Now could we all stand for our national anthems please?

Goodnight, Seig Heil and God Bless the Queen!

And if the Mussies, the Jews, the mad Catholics, the Scientologists and the Proddies haven't gotten themselves together in an unholy band and attacked me before next week then I hope to see you all again.

Same bat-time!

Same bat-channel! You can reach Charley at chasbrady7@eircom.net