STORM season is upon us, there is no doubt. As Éowyn battered us on the east coast last week, we organised a serious duvet day here with the kids off school. Working meetings were cancelled, the fire was lit, the Playstation was cranked up and popcorn was deployed.
Most of my anxiety was veering West with the folks back home and the forecast looking like it would hit West Cork hard overnight. Thankfully, things weren’t too bad in the end, with the power out for a while at home, but most of us got through it ok, which is remarkable given the severity of the storm.
What a difference from the infamous Night of the Big Wind in January 1839, when a catastrophic storm caught our ancestors completely unaware. That night, as many as 300 people died, countless homes were destroyed, and ships were wrecked all along our coast. Churches and barns were flattened, and fires spread through Dublin as hurricane-force winds fanned the flames of hearths and furnaces. Papers reported the city looked sacked during the aftermath. Even the astronomers in Armagh Observatory had their telescope blown away.
The papers reported that the howling wind was so loud it drowned out the sound of houses collapsing. Witnesses claimed they could hear the roar from the Irish Sea above Howth all the way in the Phoenix Park. There were no red or orange warnings then and no Carlow Weather account to keep everyone updated.
Of course, some storms you can’t predict. Last week saw an unprecedented political tempest in the Dáil when, for the first time ever, a new government couldn’t elect a Taoiseach due to a row over speaking rights. If this is anything to go by we’re going to have a fractious and lively Dáil term ahead, which means we’ll have to get more popcorn in I suppose.
Listen, no more Lookits
WITH Trump back, I thought it was time to get in early with my own executive orders, laying down the law ahead of the inevitable collapse of Western democracy.
First up – there will be an immediate ban on politicians starting sentences with ‘Lookit’. When did this become the go-to opener for every TD stepping in front of a microphone? It’s like a verbal tic that has spread through Leinster House faster than the latest episode of the GAA Catfish. I don’t care if you’re explaining away another ‘billun’ euro overspend or defending the u-turn on the Occupied Territories Bill – find another way to start your sentence. ‘Listen’ is also banned, by the way, as is ‘Let me be very clear about this.’
Next up – teenagers blasting TikToks through phone speakers on public transport. I don’t need to hear your viral videos of people doing stupid dances while I’m trying to get into town.
This behaviour will result in immediate confiscation of the device and forced attendance at a 12-week course on the history of headphones, taught by cranky auld lads who remember when the only noise pollution on buses was someone’s Walkman bleeding tinny sounds of Bryan Adams through cheap earphones.
And finally, there will be an immediate moratorium on any further changes to GAA rules and structures. Between the round robins, the preliminary quarters, the backdoor qualifiers and the trap doors, not to mention the controversial ‘pink socks on Tuesdays’ rule, the championship has become more complicated than the plot of Inception. Teams that were knocked out months ago suddenly reappear like Bobby Ewing in the shower. It’s enough to drive a man to cricket.
Under my administration, we’re going back to the old ways. Players will tog out in the back of a repurposed HGV trailer. Alcohol consumption will be encouraged mid-season, and even before games. Two teams, one ball, winner takes all.
How’s that for making Ireland great again?
No truth and not social
SPEAKING of Trump’s return, I see he’s appointed his own special envoys to ‘save Hollywood’ in the form of veteran actors Mel Gibson, Jon Voight and Sylvester Stallone.
According to Trump’s announcement on Truth Social, a media platform that isn’t known for being particularly truthful or social, the stars will be his ‘eyes and ears’ in Tinseltown.
The whole thing reads like a plot from one of their straight-to-video movies: three aging tough guys sent on a mission to save Hollywood from the libtards. I can see the trailer now: ‘In a world where woke goes broke ... three men will stand up and fight ... on one final mission … to save Hollywood from itself ....’
How many years has he been back in office now? What – it’s only been a week?!!!
