Welcome to the Soft Parade


i even washed to attend the “monster rally” in the RDS and as i waited to dry i thought of why the word monster was used?  the papers that described the conference must have imagined that strange and horrible imaginary creatures were going to attend, but i was real and so was moo moo and as we entered the hall i saw other real live persons there too, some were young and others were elderly and none of us were extremely ugly with deformities and we didint seem wicked or cruel, in fact, we all seemed quite nice, patiently waiting for coffee as the water pressure had left the building.


the hall could hold over a thousand chairs, conjoined together in rows and at 09.30 in the morning a fifth of them were taken.  i told moo moo that i wanted to smoke so i pulled the tobacco from the tin and filled my bowl and together the two of us went outside where we waited and watched to see if doubtful John would attend, i thought he would but wifey said “nah, he aint gonna come“, which kinda made sense as it was cold and wintry.  He should have registered, as he was the man filled with hope only months earlier but somewhere in between the physician of misery had visited and diagnosed our philosopher friend with a dose of reality, yet . . . other malcontents had made the pilgrimage to see the seven samurai hold fort.


Politics was the name of the game and Tom McGurk, the broadcaster, told us his ideas, and the misandrist spoke next, beginning with her observation that there weren’t enough women in the audience, and i thought whatcha wanna do Olivia force them to attend?  she rambled on forra while and then thankfully her time was up.  this was not looking good, and then the man from Liverpool dressed in hipster gear took to the podium, and addressed us with heart, like a believer from years ago, he raised us up . . . and then dropped us as quickly.  Finally, the large political scientist from DCU named Jane slowly rose and i thought i was gonna sleep as she looked kinda boring and i knew she was gonna mention “an evidence based approach” so i decided to switch off but halfway into her time i noticed she wasint all that bad.  All four of them over ran their allotted time, and we still had to hear from those in the attached chairs.

Marc Coleman began with the correct observation that Government is too BIG and we all gave him a round of applause for stating the obvious, and while we were asking each other “who the fook is Marc Coleman?” he tells Olivia, the elderly woman with noticeable bags under her eyes that sheez hott! c’mon dude! giz a break . . .

others take their numbers, and look nervous as they wait for Tom to point at them and ask them their ideas, not opinions mind, but ideas, and when they’re not opinioning they’re regurgitating tales they heard on RTE Radio 1 and eventually break time arrives and poor Fidelma frantically tries to speak with us but the microphones have been turned off, anyways weeve left the hall to drink coffee, azza conference ainta conference without coffee, however boo boo and moo moo want beer so we leave the grounds of the Royal Society and crossing the road we go to the boozzer but itz closed.


with hot coffee in our cold hands we return, and are asked by the man in the blue suit if weed like to speak with the journal, and being the monsters that we are, we politely decline.  no fookin way are we talking to the journal, that citadel of liberal orthodoxy, that aint happenin’ baby! so he leaves and turns to this dude and asks if heed like to look into the apple tablet, and his face turns red as he tells the smug man why heez here, and the dude in the suit smiles his learned smile as heez caught one of those unenlightened bigots who once were considered normal.

. . . and i guess thatz why we’re all here, as the progression that we once all believed has turned sour and has created that atomised world that Houllebecq constantly describes.  The medievil mind must march with the anarchists or be left behind with its dream of the Angha called to carry our idea of a wanted fortune to a better place.  Loose Lips and her sextet are not the warriors we want but, they’re a start and right now thatz all we wish for

This entry was posted in Catholicism, Civil society, Corruption, Crime, dail eireann, Economy, Education, Europe, Ireland, journalism, Media, nanny state, Religion, socialism, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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