jd26
08-07-2008, 02:28 PM
http://www.patshortt.com/hickeyweekly.htm
Well , “Yes” and “No”
In the midst of the confusion generated by the Lisbon Treaty debate, the plain people of Ireland reverted to more traditional ways of decision makin.’
Thanks be to God this blasted Lisbon Treaty is behind us. I steered clear of the whole issue in case I’d further confuse the people. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t make head nor tail of it and neither could any other councillor I know. None of them canvassed a vote for the yoke. In fact, one particular council colleague quietly admitted to me that for months he thought the Lisbon Treaty was an ice-cream. Easily known twould get the boot when your regular parish pump politico couldn’t tell the difference between an EU treaty and somethin’ you’d find in an ice box between the Wibbly Wobbly Wonders and the Loop the Loops. Of course I would have understood the lot if I’d had the time to read it but then again, I’m the Mayor.
There was fierce confusion. On the Monday before pollin’ day Madge McInerney cornered me in the Post Office and asked me if I was “for or again this Lisbon Treaty? “
“Madge,” I answered, “I’m confused myself. There’s a bit of me says we should be in there with the rest of them but I also think we should stand back and come at it from a different angle.”
“Well, Maurice,” she continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Lisbon myself but if this Treaty lets them girls get married I think twould be powerful. What’s more, tis neither your business nor my business what angle they come at it from, they’ve the same rights as you or me.” I was goggle-eyed: Madge McInerney believes in same-sex marriages and thinks the Lisbon Treaty is the answer. What next?
Up to the last week of the campaign the very mention of Lisbon was enough to have a fella thrown out of the pub and barred for life but as pollin’ day approached people began to get into a ferocious flap. They gave up watchin’ telly or listenin’ to the radio because all they got was one blazin’ row after another. They didn’t bother askin’ their local politicians because they couldn’t get a straight answer, so they reverted to all manner and method of tryin’ to divine how they should vote.
The night before pollin’, a crowd of fellas in the pub in Teerawadra gathered around the pool table and divided themselves into teams of “Yes’s” and “No’s” . It was agreed to play for Lisbon; if the “yes’s” won they’d all vote “yes” and if the No’s won they’d all vote “no!” A novel way of to decide the future of a continent. Anyway, Jose Manuel Barroso will be relieved to hear that Europe’s destiny didn’t hinge on a game of pool in a rural pub in the back arse of the country; a row broke out before the game finished and, like the Treaty itself, the whole thing was abandoned.
Pa Cantillon and the family were equally confused so they decided to consult a woman with close connections to Brussels. Beatrice, their prize Belgian Blue cow was due to calve on pollin’ day and they agreed that if she produced a bull calf they’d vote “yes” and if twas a heifer they’d vote “no.” Beatrice delivered a typical EU fudge when to everyone’s surprise she gave birth to twins, a bull and a heifer.
On the evenin’ of the votin’ I discovered that confusion reigned under my own roof. I went home to collect my pollin’ card and found the Mother sittin’ at the kitchen table with a “Yes” and a “No” leaflet in front of her and she whisperin’, “eenie, meanie miney mo.”
Up to the last minute I myself wasn’t sure what I was goin’ to do. As I approached the pollin’ station I took out a 2 Euro coin and decided twould be heads for “yes” and tails for “no.” I tossed it in the air but as it came down the feckin’ thing hopped off the back of my hand and rolled into a drain. I’m not tellin’ ye what way I slanted my pen but I hope the Europeans realise what a sophisticated electorate they’re dealin’ with
Well , “Yes” and “No”
In the midst of the confusion generated by the Lisbon Treaty debate, the plain people of Ireland reverted to more traditional ways of decision makin.’
Thanks be to God this blasted Lisbon Treaty is behind us. I steered clear of the whole issue in case I’d further confuse the people. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t make head nor tail of it and neither could any other councillor I know. None of them canvassed a vote for the yoke. In fact, one particular council colleague quietly admitted to me that for months he thought the Lisbon Treaty was an ice-cream. Easily known twould get the boot when your regular parish pump politico couldn’t tell the difference between an EU treaty and somethin’ you’d find in an ice box between the Wibbly Wobbly Wonders and the Loop the Loops. Of course I would have understood the lot if I’d had the time to read it but then again, I’m the Mayor.
There was fierce confusion. On the Monday before pollin’ day Madge McInerney cornered me in the Post Office and asked me if I was “for or again this Lisbon Treaty? “
“Madge,” I answered, “I’m confused myself. There’s a bit of me says we should be in there with the rest of them but I also think we should stand back and come at it from a different angle.”
“Well, Maurice,” she continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Lisbon myself but if this Treaty lets them girls get married I think twould be powerful. What’s more, tis neither your business nor my business what angle they come at it from, they’ve the same rights as you or me.” I was goggle-eyed: Madge McInerney believes in same-sex marriages and thinks the Lisbon Treaty is the answer. What next?
Up to the last week of the campaign the very mention of Lisbon was enough to have a fella thrown out of the pub and barred for life but as pollin’ day approached people began to get into a ferocious flap. They gave up watchin’ telly or listenin’ to the radio because all they got was one blazin’ row after another. They didn’t bother askin’ their local politicians because they couldn’t get a straight answer, so they reverted to all manner and method of tryin’ to divine how they should vote.
The night before pollin’, a crowd of fellas in the pub in Teerawadra gathered around the pool table and divided themselves into teams of “Yes’s” and “No’s” . It was agreed to play for Lisbon; if the “yes’s” won they’d all vote “yes” and if the No’s won they’d all vote “no!” A novel way of to decide the future of a continent. Anyway, Jose Manuel Barroso will be relieved to hear that Europe’s destiny didn’t hinge on a game of pool in a rural pub in the back arse of the country; a row broke out before the game finished and, like the Treaty itself, the whole thing was abandoned.
Pa Cantillon and the family were equally confused so they decided to consult a woman with close connections to Brussels. Beatrice, their prize Belgian Blue cow was due to calve on pollin’ day and they agreed that if she produced a bull calf they’d vote “yes” and if twas a heifer they’d vote “no.” Beatrice delivered a typical EU fudge when to everyone’s surprise she gave birth to twins, a bull and a heifer.
On the evenin’ of the votin’ I discovered that confusion reigned under my own roof. I went home to collect my pollin’ card and found the Mother sittin’ at the kitchen table with a “Yes” and a “No” leaflet in front of her and she whisperin’, “eenie, meanie miney mo.”
Up to the last minute I myself wasn’t sure what I was goin’ to do. As I approached the pollin’ station I took out a 2 Euro coin and decided twould be heads for “yes” and tails for “no.” I tossed it in the air but as it came down the feckin’ thing hopped off the back of my hand and rolled into a drain. I’m not tellin’ ye what way I slanted my pen but I hope the Europeans realise what a sophisticated electorate they’re dealin’ with