The Hoar Of Ages
Monthly Mumble.

Entry 1 of me Monthly Mumble…and I’m rearin’ ta go! (Turn yer speakers on!)

Got up this mornin’…put me black kettle on the feckin’ stove…lit me first fag of a ruddy-faced new day, coughed up a chunk or two and humped meself back into me easy recliner. Feckin’ thing nearly threw me out the window! Wonderful mornin’! Ahh to be young, single, and up to me bleedin’ ears in mountin’ debt! But what can ya do, except curse the walls on yer own! Besides, I’ve already lived a thousand lives…and what d’ya know? I’m still choppin’!

Turned on the ol’ wireless…and what do I get? More shite from RTV Radio One! Here’s this toffee-nosed cow being interviewed. Says she’s from some apparent ‘concerned’ organisation, blubbering on about how she thinks the price of cigarettes should be ‘doubled’ in the next Government Budget to prevent youngsters from havin’ a drag!

The Price! Doubled!

On and on she went, and all the while boring the arse off a morning-rising  public. In between humin’ and hawin’, we learned that her crack-pot theory was thus: That if the cost of a pack of twenty fags was increased to up around 8 Irish pounds (the shoppes charge 4 quid at the moment for a pack of 20 flutes), then youngsters would be ‘turned off smoking the darn things!’ Such a feckin’ blatent lie! Can ya believe her!

First of all, youngsters are a ‘very small percentage’ of those who really smoke cigarettes in Ireland. Mostly, ‘tis the poor and depraved who make up the majority…so one must instantly wonder why this badger-faced cow was so keen to promote a hike in prices. Me nostrils were sensin’ a Hidden Agenda right away. Secondly, hikin’ the price of a pack of fags to 8 quid would simply result in the poor people of Ireland not havin’ loot in their pockets for truly necessary things, like the feckin’ rent for one! No rent? These poor cretins get kicked out of their flats…and The Landlords of Dublin get busy renting to ‘a more lucrative’ clientele! Interesting, isn’t it, how an apparent interview about raisin’ cigarette prices can actually be a cleverly disguised ploy to ‘make better’ the circumstances of the wealthy bastards amongst us.

So, this marzipan-tongued wagon-wheel  went on and on about how brilliant her ridiculous feckin’ idea was, and I just got meself into a tizzy over the whole thing. Had to nip into the Gin to recover! So much for the Black Kettle on the stove! And I  still can’t get me legs around the nerve of her yet. I was fuming for a good solid hour with that one!

Of course, RTV has ‘em all on, morning, noon, and night…these hidden-agenda-carrying Reps from the Government. If ya dig deep enough, you’ll find that anyone being interviewed by RTV has a cousin, sibling or other relation working in Government. ‘Tis one big feckin’ feathered-bed, is all it is. All pretending to be ‘concerned’ individuals…yeah…concerned that the so-called Celtic Tiger Economy, now knee-deep in a mound of its own crap, will not recover and the lot of them will be flat-arsed on the footpath along with the mounting homeless of Dublin’s Once Fair City! I swear ta God….I hope that feckin’ Fat Cat never recovers, and chokes on its own hairballs!! ‘Twill serve these greedy bastards right should this mean-spirited economy fall through the thin floorboards upon which it has been erected. 

So…the morning dragged on. Two men-friends came by and I did me utmost ta do them both out of every shilling. Then I had a few things ta do for Kildare, and I knew Freake was dispatching his latest LETTER, so I slung on me knickers and headed out to the post office, to see if anything had arrived, see. There I was, down around Baggot Street doing a bit a shoppin’ in Tesco, and some poor bastard with a tin cup comes up ta me and says:

“D’ya have anythin’ to put me in a Hostel for the night?”

“I certainly do!” Says I, and gave him a swift dig in the gut. “Now that should set you up in a Hostel for the night!”

That’s is for this week Pigeons! Check back next month for more of Me Monthly Mumble!

The Hoar Of Ages.

Dublin, Ireland. November 22nd 2001.