Off with their heads.

This cartoon appeared in the
Irish Independent on 7 May 2011.

You saw the concept here first
on 9 April 2009.

Just Pat

Click on image for a larger version.
A generation of Irish children have grown up with Pat Ingoldsby. Well, that's not exactly true. Pat was already grown up. Sort of. He has never lost his childlike wonder at the world, though it has got a slight edge to it as the years have passed and his beloved Dublin gives him short shrift from time to time.

His writing is quintessentially Dublin and, like Spike Milligan, whom he admires and resembles in many ways, his themes span a wide range of living, their presentation is in short bursts, and his use of unlikely juxtapositions and the absurd bring you up with a jolt. Sometimes it's a profound one, or just a sad one, or one that has you chortling on the DART or the LUAS and being immediately written off as another eccentric by the more serious passengers.

His latest book, Hitting Cows with a Banjo, is a marvellous read, and it comes complete with an apology to all cows on the back cover.

Unfortunately you won't find it on Amazon. Pat's last book there dates from 2003, and he is now into direct marketing, setting up his stall wherever on Dublin city pavements. Much of the present book is set on these very pavements. If you see him, talk to him and buy a book. You won't regret it.

He more than deserves The Freedom of the City and it might stop the occasional overenthusiastic (or spiteful) Garda moving him on.

I hope he won't mind me reproducing a couple of his shorter gems from Cows.

---

WELL NOW THAT'S CLEARED UP

An odd little man approached me
waving a finger
and said with a voice
which would brook no contradiction
"You're not Oliver Goldsmith!"
I didn't feel qualified enough to argue.


ECT

The medical profession
brought rural electrification to my brain.
I've had hot water ever since.


BEAM ME UP

A young woman stopped to look at my books from a safe distance.
After a while she spoke.
"What is your profession?" she asked.
"I'm a poet" I said. "And you're welcome to look at my books."
She still did not move any closer.
"What is your profession?" I asked her.
"I'm a student" she said. "I haven't finished High School yet."
"You will" I said. "Or maybe it'll finish you."
She smiled. "Can I get you on-line?" she said.
"But you're here now" I said. "So are the books.
You can touch them for real.
Why would you want to be changing it into something virtual?
You're right here with me in the middle."
She thought about it for a minute. She smiled.
"I like that" she said.
Jesus.

The Baby and the Bathwater

Kay's café, Tesco, Clare Hall, Dublin.

Tomás Mac Anna

I came across Tomás Mac Anna when he produced, directed, and often wrote, our school pageants in the early 1960s. These usually illustrated some aspects of Irish history, factual or legendary. They were very elaborate and used the latest effects in sound and lighting. They were the nearest thing to an Irish version of swashbuckling.

Tomás was very creative and generated great enthusiasm among the participants. He was also a stickler and a perfectionist and could, at times, be very grumpy.

We didn't exactly make our own costumes, but we did make crowns for kings and helmets for warriors.

We got so good at this, under his tuition, that he had us make similar artifacts for Geamaireachtaí na Nollag in the Abbey. These Christmas pantomimes were a hoot.

The serious Abbey actors treated them like an R&R break and ad libbed their way through them with great gusto and enjoyment. They also tailored each performance to its audience, often lampooning teachers from the stage and in front of their classes whom they had brought along as part of their Irish language "education".

These were quality actors, such as the late TP McKenna, and they really had a ball on stage. And there in the background, egging them on, was Tomás.

I'm not a theatre person, so I had no contact with him after I left school. But I know he was widely respected and you can read an appreciation by Joe Dowling which covers the later period.

You can read the 1963 school concert programme which included the play, Íosagán, written by Pádraig Pearse and directed by Tomás Mac Anna, and a pageant, Fíon Spáinneach, which he both wrote and directed himself.

Go n-éirí leis i nGlóir-Réim, nó b'fhéidir i nGeamaireacht, na bhFlaitheas.

Along comes Godot

Garret FitzGerald

Garret was one of the driving forces behind the first MA in European Studies in UCD in 1966/7. And he set about implementing the new course with gusto. This was well before Ireland joined the EEC. In fact it was more than a year before de Gaulle (again) refused us entry (along with the UK, Denmark and Norway).

Garret had a long and enthusiastic interest in Europe and he was on the European Parliament's mailing list. He used to come into class (there were only about 6 of us, as I recall) with big bundles of EP reports under his arm which had just arrived in his morning post. He plonked these on the table and we sifted through them looking for nuggets on which to base our papers. The system worked well. We got a profusion of reliable sources and he got his reports sorted. A forerunner of distributed computing.

He may also have made history in the Berlaymont (Commission HQ in Brussels) during the same course. He had taken us on a study trip to the Commission and was in full flight at one of our briefings, quizzing the Commission official giving the briefing. The official was waffling all over the place and I figured there was nothing useful to learn from him, so I switched over to the French interpretation. As Garret, whose brain constantly outran his tongue, gushed on, the interpreter faltered and eventually lapsed into silence.

"I am sorry but I cannot keep up with this speaker", she said.

Incidentally, at the end of the session, the Commission official apologised for his disorganised presentation and responses, claiming he had hit his head on the side of the swimming pool when playing with his children over the weekend. We all felt very sorry for him until we later learned that this was a story he rehearsed on a regular basis to excuse his poor performance.

Garret had two great qualities for a teacher: great enthusiasm and intellectual curiosity, both of which he shared with his students.

A fault was his assumption that everyone was as interested in minute details as he was himself. And he wasn't the greatest delegator in the world. Very much a hands on manager which, when he was Taoiseach, led to difficulties in his dealings with the Civil Service and to some of the longest Cabinet meetings in the history of the State.

He was a conviction politician and, unlike many of his contemporaries, was conscious of the wider national interest in his dealings both at home and abroad. He will be sadly missed, not only by his family and friends, but by the country, which will be the poorer for his going.

It's a pity he missed his date with the Queen, but it now appears he had a more pressing appointment.

RIP

Lying in State

Buck House

Interesting how all that stuff floating around in the news is subliminally absorbed and affects your perception of things.

Now, take the royal wedding and the impending royal visit to Ireland.

For an instant, I thought I had found another immortal typo.

Just as, when I now see an ad in the distance for Polish (shoe variety), I think it is another Polski (immigrant variety) poster or sign.