The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Sunday, October 01, 2017

the abomination of desolation

In the foot hills of heaven there's a rocky path that is pleasant to hike along.
The air is fresh here and the light looks a bit like the Summer of 1976.
The views are rather good too.
Every prospect pleases.
Tree lines, and ridges, and cool arbours, and rocky outrcrops, and here and there sudden surprising meadows with the grass up to your knees.
The setting is like the backdrop for one of Terence Malik's better filmic set pieces, only sort of effortless and not so self conscious or pretentious, and without the fear of any dissonant castings of Richard Gere showing up to mar things.
I found a field and sprawled in it.
The grasses sighing ever so gently.
Presently Jesus came by.
"Don't worry," he said, "she's with me."

Saturday, September 30, 2017

the rocky murdocks picture show

The screen is dark.
A disembodied male voice sings as the opening credits appear in the blackness.
The voice is plaintive, poignant and oddly beautiful.

***

The Voice: (singing)
"I remember the chill
The day Newsweek stood still
Claiming US troops flushed Korans down the jax
And Piers Morgan was there
In silver underwear
Cheerleading the Jihadi attacks.
Then something went wrong
For Rupert Murdock and his son
They got caught in a phone tapping jam
And at a deadly pace
It came from outer space
And this is how the message ran.
Science Fiction
Ooh, oooh, oooh
Double feature.
George Bush is a liar
Tony Blair's his creature
See Jihadis fighting
Not terrorists but insurgents
And lots of talk about quagmires
It's all so urgent
Woh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
Woh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Surrender show
I remember the sorrow
When the New York Times had to borrow
Five hundred million from a Sanchez named Slim
And the Washington Post
Soon gave up the ghost
And told us that Al Qaeda would win
Then something went weirder
For Piers Morgan at the Mirror
He published fake torture photos just to pay his bills
But I really stepped back
When Lukwesa Burak
Got a haircut that spits poison and kills
In a
Science Fiction
Wooh oooh oooh
Double feature
Rupert Murdock
Oooh oooh oooh
We'll build a creature
See lawyers fighting
At the Leveson Enquiry
And Adam Bolton wondering
Why the hell don't they fire me
Woh oh oh oh oh oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture Show
Woh oh oh oh oh oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
At the late night
Woo ooh ooh
Sky News feature
Picture show
Woh oh oh oh
I wanna go oh oh oh
To the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
By RKO
Oh oh oh oh oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show

***

(Camera cuts to the interior of a Starbucks cafe in South London. It is the Starbucks where Jannat Jalil from Sky News has her morning espresso. James Healy is at a table eyeing Jannat. She, being a fan of the Heelers Diaries, knows well he is stalking her. He approaches her table tentatively.)

James: Jannat.
Jannat: Yes James.
James: (awkwardly) I really admired the elegant way,
                               You read the evening news,
                               On Sky the other day.
Jannat: Yes James.
James: Jannat.
Jannat: Yes James.

(Music starts. Other diners sing the part of the Chorus.)

James: The road was long but I ran it.
Chorus: Jannat!
James: The river was broad but I swam it
Chorus: Jannat!
James: I've one thing to say
           And that's dammit Jannat, I love you.
           Here's the ring and now you'll never look back
           True I may have a pot belly and a saggy butt
           But my love for you is deeper than for Lukwesa Burak
           She spoilt her chances with that haircut, tut tut
Jannat: This ring is flashier than Kay Burleigh's mind games.
Chorus: Oh James
Jannat: It fills my heart with passion and sultry flames
Chorus: Oh James
Jannat: And I've one thing to say, and that's James, I'm insane for you too.
James: Dammit Jannat.
Jannat: Oh James, I'm insane.
James: Dammit Jannat.
Jannat: Oh James, I'm insane.
James: Dammit Jannat.
Jannat: Oh James, I'm insane.
James and Jannat: (together) I love you.

***

(Camera cuts to a country road on a dark night. James and Jannat are driving through the rain. The car runs out of petrol. The two sit for a moment in silence.)

Jannat: What kind of man doesn't fill his car with petrol before a long journey?
James: I never put more than ten Euro's worth in the tank.
Jannat: Why?
James: Well I wanted to punish the government for imposing punitive taxation rates on petrol. And I wanted to punish the garages for failing to organise an effective lobby to stop the government imposing this tax. And I wanted to punish the oil conglomerates for trying to corner the market in oil through forward buying, thereby driving the price of a barrel of oil to 100 dollars when it should be less than ten, and perpetually gambling that the price of oil will rise and then forcing it to do so through their astonomical borrowings from collapsed idiot banks. And I wanted to punish the Arabs and the OPEC organisation for operating an illegal oil cartel against the rest of humanity. All of these corrupt vested interest groups have traded on the notion that we will never respond to their price gouging. They have waxed fat on the idea that oil is not a price sensitive commodity. We have allowed them to believe that we will buy their oil no matter what they charge. This is a very negative delusion to encourage in governments, garages or Arabs. It is apt to confuse them.
Jannat: So you punished them by stranding us.
James: Er yes.
Jannat: Oh James.
James: Oh Jannat.
Jannat: I think I might be Muslim.
James: What's that?
Jannat: Nothing. Let's go search for help.

***

(Camera cuts to the two now walking along the roadside in the rain. They are making their way towards a castle in the distance which has a light shining in a single window. The music kicks in.)

Jannat: (singing)
In the velvet darkness
Of the blackest night
No matter where
There's a guiding light

James & Jannat: (singing together)
There's a light
Over at the Murdock place
There's a ligh-igh-igh-ight
Burning in the fireplace
There's a ligh-igh-igh-ight
In the darkness
Of every night

(Camera cuts to the window of the castle. Sky News Overseas foreign affairs correspondent Tim Marshall is sitting at the window watching the rain. Tim Marshall has in the past year been sent to report from Libya, Egypt, Syria, in fact from every trouble spot in the world where there is even the remotest chance that his life might be in danger. An uncharitable observer might conclude that someone at Sky is indeed trying to kill him.)

Tim Marshall: (singing)
The darkness must glow
Down the river of my dreaming
Until Kay Burleigh goes
The sun cannot come streaming
Into my life
Into my ligh-igh-igh- ife

(Camera returns to James and Jannat)

James & Jannat:
There's a light
Over at the Murdock place
There's a ligh-igh-igh-ight
It's burning in the fireplace
There's ligh-igh-igh-ight
In the darkness
Of every night

***

(Camera cuts to James and Jannat knocking on the door of Castle Murdock. The door opens to reveal Kevin Murdock (son of Rupert) dressed as the character Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Behind him we can see Rebekkah Wade, formerly Managing Director at News International, dressed as a sexy maid.)

James: Our car broke down.
Riff Raff: You've come on a very important night. The master is having one of his affairs.
James: You mean now he's cheating on Wendy Deng?
Jannat: Shhh.
Riff Raff: I think perhaps you'd better come inside.

***

(Scene: Castle interior. A group of garishly dressed guests have congregated. James and Jannat stare as without warning Riff Raff bursts into a most infectious musical number. The other party guests join in at just the right places.)

Riff Raff:
I remember
Doing the Truth Warp
Drinking
Those moments when
People gave us direct debit access to their personal bank accounts
To pay for Sky Channel
Let's do the News International again.
Let's bribe the police force again.
It's just a jump to the left
And a step to the righ-igh-igh-ight
You put your hands on your hips
And bring your knees in tigh-igh-ight
But it's tapping people's phones
That really knocks you insa-a-a-a-ane
Let's do the Truth Warp again
Let's do the News Corp again
It's just a jump to the left.
And a step to the righ-igh-igh-ight
You bribe the Chief of Police
And bring your knees in tigh-igh-ight
But it's owning the law
That really knocks us insa-a-a-a-ane
Let's do the News Corp again
Lets bribe the police force again

(Riff Raff and the partygoers collapse in an exhausted heap. James and Jannat don't quite know what to do. Although James has appreciated the verve of the performance and is clapping vigorously.)

Jannat: Let's get out of here.
James: Nonsense. It's just getting good. Let's stay and see what happens next.
Jannat: This is not the Athy Chamber of Commerce James.
James: (With infinitely smug middle class political correctness) They're probably just Muslims with ways different from our own.
Jannat: I'm cold. I'm frightened. And I'm just plain scared. Oh. And I think I'm a Muslim too.
James: (Still infinitely smug and middle class and not really taking anything in.) Don't worry darling. We all are. Now stop being frightened. I'm here. Nothing can possibly go wrong. If we're lucky, in a moment maybe these simple country folk will perform some more shameless parodies from the Rocky Horror Picture Show for our amusement.

***

(As James and Jannat are talking the other party goers and Riff Raff have slowly revived and risen to their feet. Suddenly, a door bursts open behind Jannat's shoulder. Rupert Murdock struts in. Jannat faints. James looks enthused. Rupert launches into his trademark song.)

Rupert:
Not another wordo
I'm Rupert Murdo
And he's... (indicating Riff Raff)
My faithful maitre delice
He's a little brought down
Because when you knocked
He thought you were the
Chief of Police
Don't get strung out
By the way I look
Don't judge a company by its corrupt corporate management
I may look 86 years old
By the light of day
But at night I look positively indigent
I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly Ineffective
Tasmania-ah-ah-ah

James: (rapping and breaking any number of copyrights held by Jim Sharman and Richard O'Brien)
I'm glad we caught you at home
May we use your phone
We're both in a bit of a hurry
We'll just say where we are
And then get back to the car
We don't want to be any worry

Rupert: (singing)
So you got caught with a breakdown
In the middle of my shakedown
Heelers
Don't you panic
Even if Jannat dumps you
I'll find a more exotic broad to hump you
I'll get you a satanic Hispanic
Cos I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly Ineffective
Tasmania-ah-ah-ah
Sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective
Tasmania-ah-ah-ah

(Rupert pauses to drink a cup of water. A man emerges from the chorus and throws a pie at him. The pie is neatly deflected by Wendy Deng who quickly hustles the would be assailant away while whaling the living tripe out of him with a metal dish.)

Rupert: (rapping)
Why don't you stay for the night
You could both have a bite
I won't tolerate any... dissension
I've been building a corrupt corporate media monopoly
You know with fake oversight from a board of directors who are all related to me
And they're good to relieve my... tension
Because
I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective
Tasmania-ah-ah
Whuh
Sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective
Tasmania-ah-ah
Oh
Don't get strung out
Because I bought the police
Don't judge a corrupt police buying company
By its corrupt corporate management
I may seem to buy a lot of cops
By the light of day
But at night
I get positively extravagant
Because I'm your sweet Chief Executive
From sweetly ineffective
Tasmania-ah-ah-ah

(Rupert changes tack suddenly and incomprehensibly)

Rupert: (singing)
The transducer will seduce ya.
You're a sensual attapensual
When we tapped your phones
Did you hear a bell ring???
You better wise up
Lord Leveson
You better shape those thighs up
And close those eyes up
I've got a gun
And I'm launching a Sunday Sun

Charles Grey: Until she cried out...

Jannat: Allah U Akbar.

(The music stops. Everyone turns and stares. Some of the more ghoulish extras cower a bit. Jannat somewhat guiltily puts her hands over her lips and looks apologetic. By the way, I challenge anyone to discern what those lines about a sensual attapensual were in the original Rocky Horror Show movie. Not since Peter Sarstead sang about lowly bontags in Where Do You Go To My Lovely, has there been such an incomprehensible vaguely obscene lyric. Or how about the bit, again in the original Rocky Horror, when Rupert sang: "How do ya do, I'm... Field Mabs Meim... faithful handyman." What the heck is Field Mabs Meim? The enigmas endure.)

***

(The awkward moment following Rupert's song and Jannat's exclamation is brought to a halt by Riff Raff drawing a ray gun and vapourising Rupert. Rebekkah Wade is upset by this turn of events.)

Rebekkah: Why did you do that? I thought you liked him. He liked you.

Riff Raff: (With infantile fury) He never liked me. And it was time for him to go. Heelers has clearly run out of steam. He's just lifting lines from the Rocky Horror Show. There aren't even any jokes.

(Riff Raff and Rebekkah turn slowly and threateningly towards James and Jannat)

Riff Raff: (With preternatural menace) You two had better leave us. My beautiful Rebekkah get ready. We return to Tasmania immediately. Prepare the transit beam.

(James and Jannat, having seen the Rocky Horror Show, know it's time to flee the building.)

***
Scene: Castle exterior. James and Jannat fall in the mud and continue scrambling towards the gate. Behind them a spectacular Truth Warp bathes the News International HQ in mystic police investigations. Presently the entire building vanishes. Gone. On a voodoo wind. Back to Tasmania. For a moment on the cold night air it is almost as if you can hear the voice of former Sun editor Kelvin MacKenzie hissing: "A hundred and seventy police officers investigating us. That's more than investigated Lockerbie. Cor blimey. Worra waste. Cor Bliiiiiimmmmmaaaiiiieeeee." James and Jannat are left alone in the dirt. A voiceover kicks in. It is Charles Grey whom we met very briefly and inexplicably during the last song, now reprising his career best performance as the Criminologist in the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Charles Grey: (intoning)
And crawling
On the planet face
Some insects
Called the human race
Not members of the Board of News International
And not entitled to any dignity or respect or grace
Or indeed help from the police in the event that Rupert Murdock's staff, agents or companies assail, assault, violate, transgress, phone tap, kill, rape, burglarise, conduct posthumous show trials (like they did with Jimmy Saville to distract public attention from the Leveson Enquiry), or otherwise mitigate our rights in any way before the law
Even though
Cor blimey
We don't even let the police hack the phones of Jihadis
And Murdock's crew were doing it as a matter of course
To all of us
Cor blimey
Because
Basically
We're all lost
Lost in time
And lost in space
And meaning

***

The screen goes dark. The plaintive male voice from the opening credits returns to sing over the closing credits. The lyrics of the closing refrain are even more poignant than before. If that's possible.

The Voice: (singing)
There was once something rare
About Lukwesa Burak's hair
It made me want to grab her and kiss
I dreamed that we might
Run away in the night
But now I think I'll give it a miss
And Lisa Holland drove round
Old Tripoli town
With Saif Gadaffi sitting on her knee
And Rebekkah Wade
Was a sexy maid
She was
At least she worked for me
In a
Science Fiction
Double Feature
Rupert Murdock
We'll build a creature
See Alistair Campbell fighting
With Adam Bolton
Who's turning puce
And now quite molten
Woh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
I really was there
For Adam Bolton's live melt down on air
When Alistair Campbell straightened his tie
And young Wendy Deng
Had developed a yen
For a billionaire 86 year old man
Then something went wrong
For Osama Bin Laden
He was caught in a special forces commando raid
And at a deadly pace
He got shot in the face
And this is what his last message said
Science fiction
Oooh oooh ooh
The Leveson Enquiry
Corrupt policeman
Massive bribery
See Freemasons fighting
James and Jannat
And the Murdock Family stars in
Forbidden planet
Woh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
At the late night
Sky News feature
Picture show
I wanna go
Woh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
To the late night
Sky News feature
Surrender show
By RKO
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
To the late night
Double feature
Sky News movie
Picture show

building jerusalem

Chatting with Farmer Jones.
"Where did you go when we went into the church?" quoth me.
"I didn't want to sit near you," answereth he.
"Why not?"
"To be honest, it's all that hand waving and Hallelujah-ing you do. You should stop that."
The noble Heelers found himself a bit nonplussed.
"Seriously?" sez me.
"I hope you don't mind me telling you," sez he.
"No, no, be frank."
"You're doing too much of it. It's drawing attention to yourself. It's like you're saying: Look at me everybody. What are you trying to prove? Do you think you're better than everyone else? Give it a rest. It's all too over the top. It's like you're putting on a production."
"Okay, you can stop being frank now."
Later that evening, in a state of some bemusement (Ireland), I betook myself to the house of Uncle Scutch.
I told him what the agricoleur had told me.
Uncle Scutch said: "He's right."
I was stunned.
Under the weight of a grand mal I exploded: "He's right?"
"Yes, he's right. What do you think you're doing?"
"Showing joy. The Catholic church is a joyful place. A house of worship. Our Father's house. It's where we celebrate. Or did Fine Gael pass a law? Is joy a crime now? Did some fembo declare that joy makes her feel inadequate? Heavens to Murgatroyd. I can't believe you'd be against praising God whatever way the Spirit led."
"You're the only one doing it."
"No I'm not. You want to see African Catholics. They go absolutely nuts."
"You're the only one doing it in Kilcullen."
"Our Protestant brothers and sisters do it."
"I've never seen a Protestant do it."
"I don't mean the ould hare baither abortionist Prods you'd be hanging out with. I mean ones that actually believe in God."
"And where do you see those?"
"Er, in America, on TV."
"We're not ready for it James."
"Not ready for joy? Not ready to pray with a full heart? Not ready to jejoice in the lamb?"
"Let me put it this way. You're a little bit ahead of us. A little bit too far ahead of us."
"But isn't our church dedicated to welcoming all God's family. Isn't that what the Catholic church is? Aren't we all a family? Expressive ones. Quiet ones. Soulful ones. Noisy ones. Silent ones. Young ones. Old ones. Single people. Families. Singers. Orators. Mystics. Lads who wave their hands and give plenty of welly to the Hosannahs."
"Not yet. It's too soon."
"But I've been doing it for years."
"I was hoping someone would tell you eventually."
Long after midnight I betook myself to a neighbour's house.
The neighbour is a bit of a sage.
I recounted the advice of the other two.
The sage scratched his head thoughtfully and said:
"Well I was with you in church a couple of weeks ago. And I did wonder. I'm not saying anything against what you did. But I was wondering."
"You were wondering what?"
"I was wondering: Are people going to think he's with me!"
As we chatted I flicked through the channels on the sexevision.
I alighted on a Christian preacher's channel.
The preacher was saying: "When my wife and I set up this channel, we were both in our early twenties. One of the most respected pastors in America came to visit us. And afterwards he told someone: There's no way those two kids will be able to run a television station. He was a holy man. A good man. And here we are decades later broadcasting around the world. I say to you: If you have a word from God, and even if holy men tell you not to do it, you keep listening to God. You hold on to that word."

Friday, September 29, 2017

J'accuse

A children's home called Haut La Garenne on the island of Jersey is under investigation.
Allegations have emerged of serial sexual abuse, ritual violations, rapes and murders, taking place at the home.
The large number of allegations along with several other items of evidentiary information which have come into the public domain, point to many decades of violation, abuse, rape and murder of children at Haut La Garenne.
My analysis is that Haut La Garenne was used by a satanic cult for the ritual abuse of children.
My analysis is that this cult involves many levels of society on the island of Jersey, including political and law enforcement figures as well as prominent members of the business community.
I am disquieted by the manner in which the investigation is being handled.
I am disquieted that all members of staff who have at any time worked at Haut La Garenne have not been arrested, detained and interrogated.
I am disquieted that the senior officer investigating the case has been removed from the investigation.
I am disquieted at the manner in which the new senior officer investigating the case has dismissed many of the more serious allegations.
I do not believe the current investigators are seeking the truth.
I call on all men and women of good will to boycott the island of Jersey.
I call on all men and women of good will to boycott the products, people, industries, and holday resorts of the island of Jersey.
I call on all fund managers, investment comptrollers, and banking executives to divest immediately from the island of Jersey.
I call on Teresa May Prime Minister of Great Britain to take personal responsibility for the investigation.
I call on Queen Elizabeth the Second to intervene directly in this case, so that the murdered, raped, violated and ritually sacrificed children of Haut La Garenne will at last receive some form of justice.
There is no excuse for acquiescing in the child murders, rapes, ritual satanic sacrifices and sundry other tortures and violations, which have taken place at Haut La Garenne on the island of Jersey before the eyes of the world.
End this.
Bring the murderers to account.
Do it England.

bleak heart

a boy stands in a field above the town
he does not know what the years will bring
dark night touches him and the rain
his spirit leaps in his imagining

a man writes at table in the dark
he wonders of all things what we are
spirits creatures matter worse
pitched forth comets about a dying star

tell me if all time is one time
and what is was and will be
was the boy already corrupt as he looked upon the town
am i already dead as i write

Thursday, September 28, 2017

star trek 8 into farceness


Sulu: We're entering the neutral zone.

Kirk: Why is it called that?

Sulu: Because people who enter it often suffer deep seated neuroses.

Kirk: Ah. On account of the high intensity radiation belts.

Sulu: No. From getting shot at by Klingons.

Kirk: Shouldn't we call it the the neurotic zone then? Or the Kingons are gonna get yah sucker zone?

Sulu: The Kingons are gonna get yah, the Klingons are gonna get yah... That's by Gloria Estefan isn't it?

Chekov: Power failure on decks seven through nineteen Captain.

Kirk: Calm down Chekov.

McCoy: Sickbay here Jim. Life support dropping to twenty percent. Any lower and we all die.

Kirk: Steady Bones.

Spock: Ship's computer is suffering massive interference from an unknown source, Jim We risk losing all control over our course.

Kirk: You worry too much.

Uhuru: The fridge is broken.

Kirk: Red Alert! Switch on all those sirens that let us know it's time to panic.

Sulu: Noooooooooooooooooo.

Kirk: You don't like Red Alert? Or is it my after shave?

Sulu: It's not you Captain or the Red Alert. But the fridge. Good heavens, without a fridge, we'll, we'll, we'll... we'll have no bananas. We'll have no bananas for tea.

Kirk: Spock get an engineer to work on that fridge immediately. No, not Scotty. Someone who speaks a dialect we can understand. Why does everybody keep bringing these problems to me anyway?

Chekov: Klingon bird of prey decloaking off the starboard bow.

Kirk: What does she look like?

Chekov: It's a space ship Cap Teen.

Kirk: Oh. Again.

Uhuru: Do you want me to hail the Klingons Sir?

Kirk: Open a channel Lieutenant.

Uhuru: Hail Klingons. Hail noble Klingons. Sweet, sweet Klingons. Hail, hail, kindly, nice, cutesey pie Klingons.

Chekov: They're firing on us Cap Teen.

Kirk: I don't blame them. Still. It was worth a try... Uhuru! Whenever we encounter Klingons from now on, never do that again. Engineering, give me warp factor five, now Mister.

Scotty: She'll nae take it Cap'n.

Kirk: Does anybody know what he's saying?

Scotty: Ach, if ye poot any more seltzer in the spritzers, she's gonna blaw.

Kirk: Scotty if we don't get warp drive, there will be no Christimas party this year. Well. I mean. There'll probably be a party. But we won't be there.

Scotty: There's nothin I can do Cap'n. Ye dinnae ken.

Kirk: I don't understand you. What's ye dinnae ken?

Scotty: You don't understand.

Kirk: That's right. I don't understand.

Scotty: Ye dinnae ken.

Kirk: What do you mean?

Scotty: You don't understand me. Ye dinnae ken.

Kirk: Yes, but what does that mean?

Scotty: You don't understand.

Kirk: Who's on first?

Gorak the Destroyer: Surrender to the Klingon empire or die like a dog in the neuro zone.

Kirk: Who said that?

Uhuru: It was the Klingon commander Captain/

Kirk: Fuggoff. Not you Uhuru.

Gorak: What is your answer Kirk?

Kirk: Must play for time. Er. Talk to Scotty. He's on First today. I mean in command.

Gorak: Surrender or die.

Scotty: Och, hwaeee thee noo wee slickit cowerin timorous Klingonee.

Gorak: Seriously?

Kirk: I know. I have to put up with this all the time. It's very stressful when our lives depend on quick thinking and rapid communication under fire.

Spock: (In a low voice.) Captain I think if we reversed the polarities on the photonic beam emissions from our transporter system and directed them towards the warp coils on the Klingon vessel it would overload their reactor systems while simultaneously causing their shields to drop and their cargo of Muslim hamsters to self detonate.

Gorak: Hey I heard that.

Muhammy: So did I.

Kirk: No time Spock. Sulu, activate the positronic alpha particle array.

Sulu: The what in the where now?

Kirk: The blue button. Just push the blue button. That one right in front of you. It's our only hope. And it's the only button on the console we've never pushed before.

Gorak: I'm still inexplicably waiting.

Sulu: This blue button?

Kirk: Yes. For crying out loud.

Sulu: I'd say it's more purple than blue.

Kirk: Purple?

Sulu: Purple. Or mauve.

Gorak: This is your very last warning Kirk. Don't make me come up there... Maybe if I do a dramatic countdown, you will realise your predicament. Yes a countdown. That will really scare you. At least it will scare you more than the threat of imminent destruction seems to be doing. You have ten seconds Kirk. Nine, eight, seven...

Kirk: The blue button Sulu.

Sulu: I still say it's purple.

Gorak: Six, five, four...

Kirk: Alright I'll push it myself.

McCoy: You can't do that Jim.

Kirk: Why not?

McCoy: Health and safety regulations. Also union rules. And in modern space wars you need to take legal advice before opening fire on anything or pressing any new buttons. There could be civilian Klingons on that ship. And think of the hamsters.

Gorak: Three, two one!

Kirk: This is tense. Sulu, the blue button.

Sulu: Purple Captain. Violet at best. You might even call it magenta. Oh alright.

Spock: The Klingon ship has been destroyed Captain.

Kirk: Remind me to use that blue button more often Mr Spock.

McCoy, Sulu, Chekov and Spock: (relieved) Ho, ho, chuckle, chuckle, ha, ha, heee, heee, ho.

Uhuru: I don't ken.

Kirk: Oh buy an ankle length skirt why don't you. I'm sick of looking at your magnificent silken clad thighs. And get back to work the rest of you hogs.

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

obitcheries

The Irish sports commentator Jimmy Magee has died.
He was most famous for the television programme A Question Of Sport which he presented for many years with another commentator called Jorge Hamilton.
A Question Of Sport was built around the conviviality, humour, affection, bonhomie and genuine warm heartedness of both its presenters.
I always had the slightly unsettling feeling whenever I watched it, that they utterly despised each other.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

no truth in the rumour

There's no truth in the rumour that sleazoid director Abel Ferrera is to make another in his Bad Lieutenant series of low rent porn and violence films to be entitled Bad Pope... No hang on...

Monday, September 25, 2017

the heelers diaries in italy



Wandering through Rome's Protestant Graveyard.
Still looking for the Keats grave.
Occasionally I stop to talk to the cemetary cats who recline on tomb stones here and there
A sign appeals for donations for the care of the cats.
A black kitten mews appreciatively as I donate 50 Lira.
I call her Bella Catta as I call them all.
One of the animal carers, a girl of teenage years, passes by smirking. She sports a tee shirt that states: "Sono troppo sexy per lavorare."
I am guessing this means: I'm too sexy to wash.
The thought amuses me mightily.
The cats are great though.
Ahead of me a man of hippy mien and his woman are searching through the underbrush.
"I think this is Keats," he says to her in American accented English, pushing back the fronds of some blue flowering plant to expose a slab.
The stone is near a secluded corner of the graveyard.
Its epitaph announces:
       "Francis Darcy Godolphin
                   Osborne
            KCMG, KSTJ, KCSG,
       12th and last Duke of Leeds
         Minister to the Holy See
           London 16/9/1884
            Rome 20/3/1964"
The hippy guy drops the skein of bramble back over the stone.
"It's not him," he exclaims.
He and his girl hurry away.
I drop to my knees and say a prayer for Francis Darcy Godolphin Osborne.

confucius he say

Those who are aborting the unborn, euthanising the elderly, assisting other age groups to suicide, murdering nascent human beings in test tubes in order to generate nascent human beings in test tubes (they kill ten for every one they create), and systemically violating life in genetic experiments, are not just atheists.
They are atheists and they are ahumanists.
They do not believe in God.
And they do not believe in humanity.