Eh it was just like any other day, I woke up, Matty had the breakfast made, the usual: small glass of orange-juice, dippy egg and soldiers, cup of coffee, small chat about the inquiry. Nothing radical. Thy Ministerial Beemer shows up at our humble lodge. With a kiss from Matty, I left for the boy’s club Fine Gael parliamentary meetings. My daily playlist of songs from Richard Curtis movies plays throughout the journey to work.
The Beemer rocked up to Leinster house. Through the tinted windows, I heard the chants “Leaky Leo!” awaiting me. I walked into the Dail bar where most of our time is spent. I went up to order a drink, where the docile Coveney sat supping a Beamish. To my distant left, there were the shadowy figures of that RBB and Ryano of the Greens fighting over who was less posh.
Suddenly! An empty Coors glass thrown by Mary Lou wizzed past my head, followed by a flurry of offensive slurs and incoherent squeals of outrage - classic Sinners. Their attention was then seized by the rabid interjection of the Healy-Raes: chaos ensues. Again, just like another day in the Dail.
I walked by the loser table, where Micheál and Ste-o were sitting, taking yet another bout of mutiny from their disobedient Soldiers of Destiny: my so called “boss”, the Taoiseach. I finally joined my boys in blue at our table snug in the dithering centre where good old Simo had saved me a seat. He was rambling on about college students or the Happy Pear brothers or something irrelevant like that. However, I couldn’t concentrate, as my mind was pressed by more sinister matters….
I quickly became bored with public service and returned to The Lodge to continue my REAL work. Enda told me when I had stabbed him in the back succeeded him where I could find them all. I went around to the various locations with shovel in hand and began to dig them up. I threw the corpses into the Varad-Car and sped back to the dungeon of the Lodge. Matty had the gurneys prepped and ready, so I laid the bodies out and hooked them up to my inventions. He hit the power and with a flash and bang, each body was gloriously reanimated.
From a puff of smoke, W.T. Cosgrave, Charles Haughey and Garret Fitzgerald spontaneously appeared. I fell to my knees and began to tremble, as my life’s work was realized before my eyes. “Show me the power,” I begged them. “We need great men like you in dire times such as these, so show me power if you please.”
Cosgrove showed me where I could find a spine, but as I was unsuccessful in my efforts, he gave me a lend of his one. Charles taught me the ways of the wily politician: the slaps on the back, the money laundering, the sleaze, the egoism. Fitzy moulded me into the Golden Boy- I was touched by the noble hand of Garret the Great.
With this unholy composition and knowledge, I have become the Chieftain: nobody is stopping me. Look out Micheál – Leo’s coming.
This article is satirical in nature and should not be understood as true or factual