In the last half century, Ireland has changed almost beyond recognition.
Anyone who time travelled from 1960 to 2010 would hardly recognise the place. Just about every aspect of society has, for better or worse changed into something unrecognisable to our time traveller.
One thing definitely has not changed though.
The fucking farmers.
When it comes to moaning and whining, there is no one to match them. They are the greatest load of fucking whingers you could possibly meet. They are never fucking happy.
For the last few years we have had to put up with their crocodile tears as they wailed about the terrible weather. It was too wet, they cried. Crops are destroyed and it will be the worst harvest ever. We were regaled with images of tractors bogged down in mud, rotting potatoes and wind-flattened crops.
I was watching
Sharon the News last night, and they were on again.
It is too dry, they are crying. We want rain. About two inches.
Is there such a thing as a happy farmer? It is always too dry or too wet; too cloudy or too sunny; too cold or too hot.
I remember some years ago, the agriculture industry was in some financial problems. The farmers of course wailed about this until we were sick of them. There was a budget, and just to shut the farmers up, they were given very generous tax breaks. At last, I thought, we are about to please the farmers. But no. The fuckers still moaned that the tax breaks weren’t good enough.
There is no doubt about it. When it comes to complaining, farmers really are the cream of the crop.
I just wish they would shut the fuck up.