Just to be on the safe side Ireland sent one of their fishery protection ships up there.
This pissed off the Scots even more so they asked to borrow a few war ships off England [suddenly the Scots decided there were advantages to being part of GB].
As a gesture of solidarity with a country which hadn’t royally been fucking around with EU membership, the EU dispatched a coalition of French and Spanish war groups to defend the Irish ship.
Trump was still full of goodwill towards the Irish so he nuked France, Spain and the UK. Unfortunately he still wasn’t sure what the Northern Ireland Border was and accidentally nuked Ireland as well. This at least had the advantage that it solved the Brexit fiasco as the UK no longer existed.
Not to be outdone, Russia nuked the US [with enormous casualties as the Americans who were fleeing south found themselves trapped by a huge wall that some fucker had put up].
Pakistan then wanted to join the party and nuked India, Israel nuked Iran, North Korea nuked South Korea and China nuked whatever was left.
The title I chose for yesterday’s scribble rang a bell.
It niggled at me for a while and then I remembered why.
That’s from the days of decent music in the mid Seventies – a time that didn’t relay on gimmicks, semi-naked women or lyrics that didn’t sound like a toneless rapid fire hostile threat. [You may take it as read that anything Rap like is a complete anathema]
I’ll leave it up to yourselves to remember the group involved.
I went down to the village yesterday to sit in the sun and enjoy a coffee.
The strange thing is that I’m not really a coffee drinker despite having a reputation of making an excellent cuppa at home. But a coffee in the village is a wee break from the house and a chance to catch up on local gossip. And Penny loves the place too and is usually bombarded with treats!
There are two general purpose / tobacconists in the village and I tend to think of them as the big one and the small one. To spread my largesse I tend to buy my baccy in the small one and the bulk of cigarettes in the big one.
I had already been in the small one [which is also the Post Office] to draw down Herself’s pension. The bloke behind the counter was very concerned about me – he had been away for a couple of weeks and had returned to find they were out of pipe tobacco. He was most concerned for my welfare and had ordered in a large supply especially for me. Apparently I am his only customer for pipe baccy.
Anyhows I was having my coffee when I was joined by Jack, the owner of the big shop. The subject of pipe smoking came up in the course of random conversation. I didn’t mention that I usually buy my stash in his rival’s emporium but he must have guessed by now. He mentioned that his sales of pipe tobacco were very small. He does a fine trade in cigarettes so there’s no loss on him, but he started naming the people in the area who smoke a pipe. Four or five names! And that included myself.
So that begs the question that no one seems to be able to answer – what happened to the popularity of the pipe? We are becoming as rare as an honest politician. There was a time when pipes were common. Two of our previous politicians were famous for their pipes – Jack Lynch and Neil Blaney. Now it is an extreme rarity to see anyone enjoying a puff. I honestly cannot recall the last time I saw a pipe.
Is it that pipes are too much trouble? Is the cigarette is just too convenient?
For the last couple of days the news consisted almost entirely of breathless prose from Shannon, Doonbeg [where Trump has his hotel] and the occasional shot of Dublin. We were shown Air Force One and Marine One and we were expected to fall on our knees in adoration of these flying machines.
Personally I found the whole circus rather boring.
Having seen so much of Trump in the last couple of days I can’t help but wonder how many days months or years he has spent in front of a mirror practising his one and only facial expression – the eyes squinting into the distance and the mouth clenched grimly giving the appearance of someone desperately trying to hold in a massive fart. As for the hair! Surely he must realise? But apparently not.
Of course we had the locals in Doonbeg fawning all over him and his sons, which goes to prove that a Clare man will do anything for a free pint.
We also had the protests. They were an embarrassment to themselves with their placards and their blimp [for which they had to get permission to fly it from the Irish Aviation Authority even though it was surrounded by trees and lamp standards]. There really is fuck all protesting the other side of the land.
I have no interest in his policies simply because I don’t know what they are. He seems to blow with the wind. A highlight was his statement that Brexit will be very good for the UK and also very good for Ireland. I got the distinct impression he was merely saying what he thought the audience wanted to hear, even if it did mean tying himself in knots.
Anyway one way or another he is America’s problem. The good citizens there voted for him so that’s what they got. Democracy and all that shit. He’s their business not mine.
Unless of course he lost his game of golf in Doonbeg and will nuke Ireland in retaliation?
If I am bringing Penny I always put on her harness. She can easily slip out of her collar so a harness is necessary even though she can slip out of that too [I don’t know how -she’s just a bit of Houdini in her]. The sight of the harness always gets her tail wagging and she sits patiently while I put it on.
We trotted gaily out to the car, or should I say that Penny trotted gaily while I just walked? Anyways, we arrived at the car and I opened the back door for her to hop in. She stood and looked into the car but made no move to jump in. She gave me a sad look and backed up a bit. It was obvious that she wanted to go but just as obvious that she couldn’t. I lifted her up and placed her on the seat. It was the first time I have ever lifted her without her wriggling like mad. I began to worry.
Once I had parked, instead of jumping out of the car, Penny very gingerly and hesitantly stepped down. I noticed that her gait was different too – she was very slow and stiff legged. Shit! I didn’t like the look of it at all. And as we slowly made our way down the pavement she showed no interest in all the places where other dogs piss which was unheard of.
I decided to cut short on my itinerary and went to the coffee shop instead as Penny loves the place.
On the way back to the car she was even slower and we had to stop a few times as she just halted and wouldn’t budge without some gentle persuasion.
The problem persisted when we got home. She was slow and stiff legged as if walking was painful. Also she just lay on her couch and showed little interest in life. I was really worried at this stage but the vet was closed for the day so I had to wait until the following morning.
That night I put her out into the garden for her nigh time pee. She stood on the terrace for a while and suddenly saw one of her imaginary intruders. She has these fits most nights where she goes off on a random track barking at something she thinks she has seen. So she saw her imaginary foe and shot off like a Hellfire missile into the dark. Shortly after I saw her streak along the far hedge at flank speed. She eventually came back, happy as Larry and ready for bed.
The following morning she was fine. Not a bother on her. She was all wags and did her little dance in anticipation of her morning biscuit. Everything was back to normal. I went down to the village again to deal with all the things I has skipped the day before. She trotted happily and made friends with all her usual smelling places. and greeted everyone she met. she has been perfectly normal ever since.