Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

If we weren’t living in a banana republic Beverly Flynn would be doing time, and not in Leinster House. I firmly believe that before she professes any ambition for ministerial office she should be sent to a nunnery, where she would be shorn not only of her hair but of the arrogance she inherited from her father. There she would hopefully be instilled with a quality which all members of the Flynn family singularly lack – humility.

I think the comments of Burty the Barrow-boy speak volumes not so much about Bev but about himself and our political rulers. Burty may try to be the world statesman, rubbing shoulders with Bambi and other assorted international creeps, but at the end of the day he can’t help reverting to type as a gurrier, a piece of Nortsoid neighbourhood low-life who’s made the big time, but who is still basically a street gangster – the only “ting” missing being a fag dangling non-chalantly from his lips.

 What qualities does Bev have that give her ministerial potential? Is it the fact that her insufferable father was a minister? Burty should remember that there are many in Fianna Fail who still blame Padraig for handing the presidency to Mary Robinson back in 1990. And of course Bev advised people on how they could get out of their tax liabilities, adding “Who wants to pay tax?”, and when this was discovered she attempted to use the legal system to suppress its dissemination -  just the type of qualities this country needs in a minister. But while the ranks of Destiny’s Soldiers does contain not a few bad-fitting toupees it also numbers some genuine talent. What’s more these people have more or less clean hands. But no matter what their abilities they will never attain ministerial or even half ministerial rank unless they can satisfy Burty with adequate political anilingus. And if they are too straight and honest Burty wouldn’t feel comfortable with them: Bev’s more his type. Indeed I can picture Burty and his new pal John Gormley standing outside the chipper and eyeing up the talent on the other side of the street – in the form of Bev and the new TD for Carlow-Kilkenny. Burty turns to John as he leans on his bicycle and chuckles  ”I don’t fancy de look o’ your one John.”

But when the chief executive of the nation delivers such an encomium for a dishonest person who wished to help people avoid paying taxes *(which incidentally pay her wages as a parliamentarian) I think it screams one thing. We live in a kleptocracy. (That’s Greek Burty, so you’ll have to look it up in a dictionary since Johnnie Wilson’s no longer in the cabinet). Poor people and yes there are more of them than you’d imagine, whether dependant on benefit or in a low-paid job with poor working conditions and no protection, are encumbered by mountains of restrictions on what they can do “legally”. They are confined to a poverty trap; once they earn anything above a ridiculously low ceiling they are expected to declare it to the welfare authorities, who will respond by reducing their benefits by a corresponding amount, thus placing them back in that des-res bijou address in modern Ireland, Square One. Of course they needn’t be so honest, and can wrestle with their consciences – that word that only cowards use – knowing that they are “breaking the law”. And if they get caught, well, it’s the stocks. They may be forced to wear a placard around their necks bearing the legend “I am a welfare cheat”. Consequently they will lose all their friends. As for political ambitions well they could try and scrounge a deposit for the election, which they will certainly lose. Alternatively, somebody in work who wants to do a bit of overtime or earn some extra cash. He may not want to pay tax, but unless he can afford access to an accountant to minimise his tax bill there is no other option, unless he succumbs to the strains of the old Tremolo song, “Silence is Golden.” Then again, he might live in Mayo.

This post also appears on my Life page at

http://planetparker.wordpress.com/