Well, it's hard to miss the fact as every fucking newspaper has banner headlines, and doubtless they'll be wiffling on about him on radio and television for the rest of the day.
I don't quite grasp this honouring of the deceased. Fair enough, if someone did great things then by all means mention it, but let's keep a grasp on reality. As far as I am concerned Reynolds was an employee of mine. I paid his salary and for many years have been contributing to his very handsome pension. As an employee he did some good things and he did some bad things, yet doubtless over the coming days we will hear how he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. There will be calls for stamps to bear his image or for bridges to be named after him, yet these people who will be doing the calling probably haven't given him a single thought in years.
I noticed a "tweet" on Twitter today. It said something to the effect "Albert Reynolds has died. What are your memories of him?". What the fuck? If I stood in the middle of O'Connell Street in Dublin and yelled the same thing I would probably be arrested or whisked away by nice kind men in white coats, yet here is this "tweet" directed at all and sundry presumably hoping to start up some kind of meme where we all post fond memories of someone we never really knew.
When I fall off my perch I doubt many people will notice. I presume my immediate family will notice something is amiss and doubtless there will be a few comments down the pub – "I see the old fart has kicked it" or "the fucker still owes me a pint" – but I would squirm in my grave if anyone started praising me from the roof tops as if I were somehow God's gift to society. I know I have a few good points but I would hate people to forget my bad points as then they wouldn't be remembering the true me.
So Albert Reynolds is dead.
My sympathies go to his family.