This meant a few things that didn’t make me very happy.
First of all, it entailed a trip up to Dublin which is something I try to avoid. Dublin has become foreign territory over the years and lately it has become even more foreign. They are in a panic at the moment as they reckon that it is a hotbed of NewFlu and are threatening to send it into “lockdown” if the residents don’t behave themselves. That can’t come soon enough in my book as it would be the perfect excuse to avoid the kip.
My happiness decreased also at the prospect of wearing a face-nappy. We were to visit a hospital complex where they are a tad paranoid and have enforcement police everywhere.
So we headed up. The journey wasn’t too bad and I even found parking which was unusual. But then I had to don the nappy. Immediately my glasses fogged up and remained opaque which meant I could only guess tat I was walking in the right direction. Also I was pushing a wheelchair which required a certain amount of effort which in turn meant an increased requirement for oxygen. But I couldn’t breathe.
The nappy I have is one we were given by one of our health visitors which means it is very fine mesh. I suppose that if it’s supposed to stop a virus it must be fairly restrictive but frankly I would rather catch a virus than suffocate. Surely logic would dictate that a mesh fine enough to trap a virus has, by definition an inability to allow air through easily? If you can breath through it then it is pretty fucking useless.
In the end I found a way of hooking the nappy so I could breathe properly. It wasn’t going to stop a virus but it was going to stop the enforcement police.
We were in there for over an hour. It seemed like a whole day. Herself was beginning to turn blue from the lack of oxygen and had already caused one panic when they thought she was suffocating. We couldn’t wait to get out the door where we promptly ripped off out nappies and sparked up our respective cigarettes and pipe.
It was nice to get a lung-full of fresh air again.
This of course begs the question – why should I give a flying fuck?
I have never seen the programme. I have seen the name crop up on many occasions and have often wondered at their notoriety. The idea though that the ending of a programme is somehow news and even merits a front page spot is a bit baffling.
I have seen photographs of the various Kardashians and my impression is that they are just a living testament to silicone. I have seen inflatable sex dolls that are considerably more attractive. If I were marooned on a desert island with them I would either turn gay or decide to become celibate.
Were did they come from? Who the fuck are they? Are they seriously famous for just being famous? They do however stand as a testament to the dumbing down of television, and they seem to inhabit the very bottom of the barrel. Why anyone should want to watch the antics of some American narcissistic family is totally beyond me.
When I started taking an interest in television there were four channels – RTE, BBC [One and Two] and ITV. That was that and programmes weren’t that bad. But then along came cable and soon my selection was broadened to include RTE 2 and Channel 4. Now of course I have somewhere around a thousand channels which you would imagine would provide me with endless entertainment. This hasn’t happened. The quality of programming has decreased and continues to decrease as more channels are added. Every night I join Herself to watch television and every night I search the channels in the vain hope of finding something even remotely interesting, and most nights I fail to find anything.
A common thread with current programmes seems to just provide a platform for all those sad fuck who are so desperate to appear on television that they are prepared to go to any lengths to humiliate themselves. We have programmes where people have to live their lives under the glare of the camera. We have programmes where families compete to become fit or lose weight. We have awful “talent” shows where contestants are reduced to quivering wrecks by a panel of “judges”. The list is endless, but they all have one thing in common – they are cheap. Why employ professionals when you can get the gullible public to fill a half hour or more? They only programme that possibly beats the Kardashians to the bottom of the shit tank is the one where we are shown a family watching television. Watching people watching crap television? That doesn’t even make sense, but it’s out there. I would rather watch paint dry [and there is probably a channel out there devoted to just that – The Paint Drying Channel?].
The Irish Leaving Certificate is roughly equivalent to the UK’s A-Level Certificates and a lot depends on it. For example, any entry into third level education is determined by the number of points received. The cut off level is itself determined by the number of applicants and their average scores.
The problem this year of course is that there were no Leaving Certificate exams. They were cancelled in case the little buggers caught the Virus.
Now this causes an immense problem. How are third level colleges to determine entry levels? How will this year’s school leavers be judged by future employers? The incredibly ingenious answer was to award points on what the teachers thought the kids might have achieved had they sat the exam.
The results are out today, and surprise, surprise, suddenly average points have jumped by 4%. I think I read somewhere that they actually jumped by 25% but the Department of Ejukashun decided that was a bit much and toned things down a shade.
The problem is of course that the playing field and the rules of the game are completely different to previous years and so any college or employer is going to take a look at the results and say “ah – 2020 results!” and promptly make radical mental adjustments accordingly. I know I would.
Of course college places should in theory be allocated fairly, in that the right percentages will be offered the available spaces based of the overall results. But what about those who sat their exams last year and deferred their college applications for a year? Suddenly they find themselves competing with kids who have been judged by completely different criteria? I know if I were a student of ’19 I would be thoroughly pissed off and would demand to be examined under the new system.
I don’t think our gubmint thought this one through?
Our gubmint wants us to travel as little as possible.
Stay at home, they cry. Only make essential journeys, they plead.
And then with a logic that is utterly baffling they tell us to take holidays.
They have introduced a scheme whereby we are encouraged to holiday in Ireland and then claim tax relief on the cost [excluding booze and presumably fags?]. Quite how we are to holiday while staying at home baffles my ageing grey cells and gives me a headache.
The worst part though is that they insist on using that bastard word “staycation”. To my ears that word is like a nail being dragged across a sheet of glass. It is an abomination and a torture of the language. Unfortunately people seem to think it’s a cute or clever word. It isn’t. It’s an amalgam of “stay” and “vacation” which in itself is an Americanism and should remain on the far side of the Atlantic where it belongs. We go on holidays here and not vacations.
The concept of a tax relief on a holiday sounds fine. It does have some hidden traps though. For a start, it can only be claimed if the place where you are staying is registered for the scheme. They say there’s a list of locations but I can’t find it. Then there is the small matter of the summer being over. Personally I don’t fancy a holiday in October or November in some gaff where the prices have been hiked through the roof to try and make up the shortfall in revenue. And wherever you go, you’ll doubtless be obliged to wear face nappies all the time, observe “social distancing” and be served by staff wearing plastic headgear that makes them look like amateur welders. Not my idea of a holiday.
They can keep their tax relief thanks.
And they can stuff “staycation” where the sun don’t shine.