IMF Chopra can see the funny side to this.

After reading Morgan Kellys article in the Irish Times yesterday I cried from embarassment:

the sole purpose of the Irish bailout was to frighten the Spanish into line with a vivid demonstration that EU rescues are not for the faint-hearted. And the ECB plan, so far anyway, has worked. Given a choice between being strung up like Ireland – an object of international ridicule, paying exorbitant rates on bailout funds, its government ministers answerable to a Hungarian university lecturer – or mending their ways, the Spanish have understandably chosen the latter.

It reminded me of some sort of bizarre reverse mugging, similar to:

Typically, when a person gets mugged, the perp demands money from the victim, but when was the last time you heard that a mugger put a knife to someone’s throat, took $100 out of his own pocket, and told the victim “you better take this money?”

Imagine Ireland is the panhandler on the ground in the picture above. The IMF walk by and offer him some money. All he wants is the price of a cup of tea but they insist he takes 15000 euros instead. He says he doesn’t need it but they stand on his arm and he relents. The panhandler agrees to take the money. He is initially relieved and he thinks he can get himself back on his feet. He pays some of his debts and the money gradually disappears. Some of his other debtors hear he is back in the cash and come looking but he is broke again. He claims the Jackals made him take the loan but he didn’t want it all. – The Sindo write a sympathy piece about how the money lenders are jacking up the juice. They pay him 100 quid but he has even less dignity due to the publicity. The money lenders are angry that he went to the papers. They come to take his fingers. If they take too many he wont be able to beg. If the dont take enough it sends out the wrong message.

That may be a complicated analogy of the sequence of events but I think it fits. The keystone cops make Ireland looks like a pathetic little bitch. We were strong-armed into taking the cash and now we have the cheek to complain. The half percent tax on pensions is probably the equivalent of half a finger.

Elsewhere Kelly’s evokes images of Tim Nice but Dim:

Back when the euro was being planned in the mid-1990s, it never occurred to anyone that cautious, stodgy banks like AIB and Bank of Ireland, run by faintly dim former rugby players, could ever borrow tens of billions overseas, and lose
it all on dodgy property loans.

Strangely enough I could find some video about Tim Being mugged:

A commenter on thepropertypin says:

Do we expect to flaunt the family jewels, get mangled, act recklessly and expect others to clean up after us? Germany and France will guard its own interests we should make sure to more careful with ours – responsibility comes with power we treat money like we treat alcohol and then blame the pubs that served us….

I remember we found a man lying in a ditch one Sunday morning on the way to mass. We knew who he was and he had made it roughly half way home from the pub to his house. It was a short walk but was so drunk he fell and could not get up. My father helped him out of the ditch and he said “what pub is this?” – we have come full circle. Again, how embarassing.

He used to be afraid:

Paul nattered away for awhile on the game, the championship, Munster and Ireland before the topic eventually turned to the economy. He professed to not having had any interest in the subject before this crisis, but now couldn’t get enough of it. Interestingly, he explained that the implosion of the economy was having a profound impact on these players.

He spoke of the fact that, in the past, international players, in a city like Limerick particularly, could have depended on a job in an insurance company, a bank or a car dealership when they hung up their boots, but not anymore.

The giant Irish lock – a man you’d have behind you in any scrap, a man who has faced the haka without flinching, who has stood up to and intimidated the hardest men in international rugby – was afraid. He feared the future. Make no mistake about it: this recession is going to affect us all.

Now he is suing Limerick Man of the Year 2008:

MUNSTER rugby captain Paul O’Connell is suing former Irish rugby team manager Pat Whelan over a multi-million euro property deal in London, which has failed to make the expected financial return.

The Lions captain, 30, is among 67 investors who have lodged a High Court claim against Mr Whelan and his business partner, Pat Chesser. The list of investors includes a string of well known Limerick sporting and business personalities.

The Irish Mail on Sunday reported yesterday that a group of people in Limerick invested in a fund to capitalise on the 2012 Olympics, investing from €250,000 to €2m.

The investors were approached in 2007 by GK Wealth Management, on behalf of Mr Whelan and Mr Chesser, while three of the firm’s directors who invested are also suing the pair.

They claim that the guaranteed 16 per cent annual return on the investment has not materialised, with some owed a 32 per cent premium on their initial stake. One investor told the Mail on Sunday: “We didn’t want to go to court but we’ve been looking for our money back for almost 12 months.”

16%, 32% – outstanding returns – sounds like doubling down on backgammon.

You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to,
So that when they turn their backs on you,
You’ll get the chance to put the knife in.

- Pink Floyd – Dogs

I think his outfit is based on committed ‘homosexualist’ Daffyd who lives in the Welsh town of Llanddewi Brefi.

Proud to be gay, Daffyd flaunts his sexuality in a variety of rubber outfits, to the villagers’ complete indifference. He refuses to accept he’s not the only ‘gayer’ in the village, and is outraged when fellow gays trespass on his patch.

bbc.co.uk

Updated photo from RWC 2011.

People are finding this blog every now and again by searching for

“why do people hate ronan o’gara”,
“ronan o’gara drunk”,
“ronan o’gara wife / wedding”,
“ronan o’gara rides your wife”,
“brian o’driscoll ronan o’gara wife”,
“ronan o’gara moustache” (wtf)

Somebody in Australia looked to see if “ronan o’gara is dead”.

It does seem from todays match that he is replacable. I personally think it was a big problem that Eddie O’Sullivan made almost no changes to the side the he inherited from Warren Gatland. This and the fact that there was no suitable replacement for a long time made O’Gara the choice as out half. I have seen O’failing pressure and excelling with a 40 point lead. He is afraid of tackling and of being tackled resulting in the ball never making it far down the line. Nobody except the New Zealand press points out his massive flaws.

Despite Sexton’s flawless, nerveless display against Fiji on his international debut, all the smart money was on Ireland’s most capped fly-half and record points scorer returning to the starting 15, with Sexton looking likely to come in at the opening of the 2010 Six Nations campaign against Italy in Dublin in February.

To be fair, Kidney admitted, following Sexton’s impressive performance against the Fijians, that it was going to be close call.

But O’Gara has been demoted for the first time since he and David Humphreys were competing for the number 10 shirt several years ago.

Sexton, at 24, three years older than O’Gara when the Munsterman made his debut against Scotland in 2000, impressed me right from kick-off at the RDS.

He caught the Fijian starting kick and, rather than just boot the ball back down the park, had a quick look and set off at considerable pace, taking the Fijian defence totally by surprise. Wow!

O’Gara now has a battle on his hands for the first time since Eddie O’Sullivan made it clear to David Humphreys that the Ulster maestro was always going to be playing second fiddle, but his demise may be some way off.

Sexton has to step up again this Saturday and will find himself with much less room and time against a side that, while palpably battle-fatigued following the Lions series, the Tri-Nations and the current tour, will dig deep to deny Ireland a calendar year’s rugby without loss.

I have it on good authority that Gatlands wife was his business manager but she didnt get on well with the suits in the IRFU.

bbc.co.uk
dailymail.co.uk

I asked a colleague who recently moved from Cork if there were any issues with what he had just done. He said “of course, they hate you up here and then they hate you back in Cork”. I told him it serves people from Cork right. They abused people from Dublin every time they visited Cork and as soon as the tables are turned they get very paranoid. When nobody really minds them in Dublin they still cant get away from it at home. This never really happened to me. All I ever got was “are you still above in Dublin” and “I don’t know how you can live there” and “its so bloody expensive”.

The peoples republic of Cork with its tongue in cheek asks “Is it acceptable to live in Dublin?”

Only for work – you should not enjoy yourself there and you should socialise within strongly Cork circles to keep up to date on external revolutionary movements. We recognise that it is not the fault of Cork Citizens that they must travel to the pale to find employment or education but rather the oppressive regime that centres everything in the Irish State around the capital is to blame.

Is it right to be friends with Dubliners? Should I attack them?

Cork people must give an unequivocal welcome to any citizen from outside the county. Instead of seeing the relationship as being “friends” we suggest you take on more the role of “counselling acquaintance”. Bring them to Cork for a visit. Show them why its so good to be from Cork. Let them in on it.

peoplesrepublicofcork.com

I couldn’t find some of the classic Radio Roy from today FM but this is amusing:

I especially like the asides and some of the things that Cork people are secretly jealous of Dublin for:

“pilates”, “frappachino”, “bod”, “ice bar”, “kielys”

Still they have St. Main Street which is a secret version of Dublin. There is a Captain Americas and Yamamori noodles.

Then there is “The Classic” – a pub that made me laugh so loud when I saw it and imagined it being said in a Cork accent.

Mblaa, place is full of misplaced egos. Can’t dance on the dancefloor as all the beautiful people are too busy trying posing, thinking that their on the catwalk. Wouldn’t be too bad if they were goodlooking! – Sally, Cork

Unlike many of the people I saw yesterday I did indeed manage to stay conscious and mostly dry and mud free. The choice of options for getting there lead to some confusion. Bus Eireann didn’t feel like bringing anyone to the festival on Saturday and they had given up selling tickets online.

I found out the last dublin bus departure was at 5 from parnell square. Trying to get on the bus I had to remind some conductors who were busy chatting with some drunken nordies that people were standing waiting in the rain.

An hour later I wondered why we were still miles from Punchestown. The gps on my phone would’nt work but I recognised Lucan which is west of Dublin and I knew we were supposed to be going southwest. To make it worse there was a cocaine dealing rugby fool from Cork talking out loud all the way. Duncan was shouting his name into the phone to his friend Vincent who was near some speakers it seems. We had to endure his commentary on the fools and easy mingers (sure how baaaad) he has encountered all over Ireland.

Dublin Bus have decided that the most direct route between any 2 points is a straight line, but that doesnt apply in the daytime. This is the route we took to the festival:

Strangely at 1am they returned the most direct route. Maybe it was their way of justifying 20 euros return. It was still better than what happened to the people in Slane.

As we filed to leave the concert arena, everyone was on a high and the atmosphere was great.

This was when things began to degenerate. The lack of organisation of the transport plans became apparent when we trudged uphill to try to get to our buses. Officials did not seem to know exactly where the buses were, vaguely pointing the way but giving no indication of how far away the departure area was. There was a general air of confusion around, as people were unsure whether they were going to make it on to the buses.

When we eventually made it to where the buses were parked, the situation became worse. Confusion turned to panic, when bus after bus was full, with drivers refusing to let any other passengers on board their vehicles.

We had to walk the length of at least 40 parked buses that showed no sign of leaving. In previous years, buses left when full, and a steady stream of buses was available to people leaving the concert. I have no idea why this did not seem to be the case this year.

The longer we had to walk, the smaller our chances seemed of getting onto any bus. People around us began trying to phone taxis – we even tried to see if we could get onto private buses, but the drivers – while sympathetic to our plight – couldn’t help us as they were all booked up in advance. At this point (three hours after we had left the concert), we were starting to worry about being stranded in the area.

The (very few) Dublin Bus officials either ignored us or told us to keep walking up the line of parked buses, saying that there were empty buses at the top. This was not the case.

The thing about punchestown is that it is a racecourse so the ground is mostly grass. It rains a lot in Ireland and sometimes for 2 or 3 days in a row during the season known as summer. People were delighted with the sight of mud and some even embraced it to its fullness. Soon after getting there I saw a big guy in a tracksuit roll like a pig in a deep puddle of mud and later on people rubbing mud on their faces.

This guy was asleep on the ground inside a tent while a crowd was forming to see a band. He only woke up when some people stood on his head and fell on top of him.

I found it a strange sight and thought that it was peoples way of paying tribute to woodstock more ’99 than ’69. |

Woodstock – one of the original “free” fests in 1969 – was marred by riots when it returned 30 years later as security broke down.

Some blamed the music for inciting violence while many other said corporate greed had pushed people over the edge.

I saw a documentary and it was the price of bottled water and the music of Insane Clown Posse that were credited with driving people insane.

I paid 6 euros for a burger at oxegen. It seems the minimum that I was going to be paying anywhere so I went to the place with the smallest queue. The food was barely warm but I was starving.

On my way there I was hungover and was going to be late for the last bus so I had no time to get cigarettes. Next came the task of locating something which is so bad we are not allowed to print an image of it or even the word. It struck me as bizzare and on a par with the danish pictures of Mohammad. I walked over to this stand where it says “under 18 no sale, No ID no sale, we ask for proof”. I asked in almost hushed tones “do you sell cigarettes”. They produced a laminated card with a wonderful selection of John Players for 8.50 a go. I said “you have to be joking”. They were’nt. I was kicking myself.

Not wanting to buy stage times for 10 euros I tried to get information on the Internet. The Wap site for Oxegen was designed to be the most frustrating thing ever. You could sort by stage but all the band names from the 3 days were just stuck together on each page. There was another option as they did advertise a premium 50000 number. Fashing signs normally used for traffic information were saying you could send a message to download your festival guide. There was no indication of the price – it said standard text rates apply, I’m sure.

11.2.1 Any Promotional Material for PSMS must include full pricing information inclusive of VAT and any other cost associated with the Service.

This is a violation of the regtel code of practice but clearly nobody could gives a shit or if they were fined would make a packet even if a small number of people were to use it.

Some clever methods people used to avoid water included cardboard boxes:

Awesome O

There was a tent where people could trade their shoes in for wellies and the shoes are sent to africa. They had to close for business early yesterday as they had a biggest tent full of smelly wet shoes known to man.

It seemes the approach to dealing with excess water in the music tents was to throw bark musch on it:

Some people asked me for stuff during the day. A girl asked when some band were playing and I said “tonight I think”, taking out my phone to check and she said “what an observation” in a bitchy tone. I said “I was going to help you” and walked off. Someone left us look at their stage times book and I gave them an umbrella, they were amazed. Someone tried to shake my hand 3 times for giving them a cigarette even though the box was still in my hand.

There was a commong sight of people who were being paid to do something but were just chatting and ignoring everyone. It was the 1 drunken steward who acted very strangely – “where do you think youre going” he asked me as I walked to the toilet, then feigning concern that I would be blown away. I think he was terrified because he had to endure Jerry Fish and the Mudbug Club. I said “thanks” and left. There were 5 people at the plastic cup place who were “deep in conversation” as I waited to get my 3 euros back for 1 cup.

The eagles of death metal is more like music made to be listened to in the desert so it was a shame to see them in the rain. TV on the radio provided some music for us as we sheltered from the rain. It was’nt even close to full and the barriers were up and people were being asked to wait outside in the pouring rain. It all got too much for one guy and he was dragged away by 5 bouncers.

It was’nt all bad, digitalism were good as were the pet shop boys.

I have been thinking about the concept of exclusivity when it comes to club membership in Ireland. This is following where the streets have no name.

dictionary.reference.com defines exclusivity as some of the following:

incompatible

shutting out all others from a part or share

noting that in which no others have a share

disposed to resist the admission of outsiders to association, intimacy, etc.: an exclusive circle of intimate friends.

admitting only members of a socially restricted or very carefully selected group: an exclusive club.

Catering to a wealthy clientele; expensive: exclusive shops.

Ok, hands up! I am currently a member of an “exclusive gym”. The “exclusivity” like most things comes with expense. I paid over the odds to join. I was primarily motivated by the desire to work out in a bright, clean and spacious environment. My rationale for joining was that I hoped this place would be free from many of the meat head bouncer types I saw in the pay-monthly gyms in town. I had also seen enough briefs and red pubes and aldi bags to last me a lifetime. I was sick of seeing guys inspecting themselves like an Adonis a few inches from the mirror after lifting some lead.

These types do not really exist in the “exclusive world”; the more upmarket clientele are a bit weirder. The Range Rogers and guts on show in the new place are tributes to Celtic tiger excess, as is the lack of perspiration. There are plenty of people who are used to money and have good manners and generally know what they are doing but you also have the young rugby school types with highlights in their hair who appear to have taken rapid weight gainer which went straight to their arms so that they resemble pop-eye. There are the 6 foot something, metro-sexual, brown-as-a-berry sunbed types who don’t do any real exercise and just pose around and perv at the women and make them feel uncomfortable. You have the weird nouveux-riche – the men being far more obvious than the women. The guys are there to assert that they have arrived and the girls go to get in shape. It appears the guys are paranoid about fitting in and are don’t take criticism well. I do manage to go a few times a week and during the summer people have cleared out altogether.

On nite-clubs; the bitching on the facebook article I referenced above keeps on going. Some got so bent out of shape about not being “beautiful people” that they argue publicly with strangers using their own names for all to see. I think it is amazing and disgusting at the same time.

It seems the more aspirational you are the easier it is for you to accept you don’t belong and to fly off the handle when confronted with your worst fear.

On “private” members clubs:

Set in one of the most prestigious addresses in Dublin, 41 St Stephen’s Green, Residence has become the most exclusive venue in town.

Our members include actors, actresses and businessmen and we wanted to do something a bit different for them,” says Christian.

“We had the Tanaiste, Mary Coughlan in on Tuesday night, she was in Bang for dinner so I took her across for a drink and she loved the place,” added Simon.

The aforementioned ‘It Boy’, gossip columnist Gavin Lambe Murphy, was not made to feel so welcome earlier on this week. He was politely asked to leave following the departure of his dining companion, the only Residence member in his group.

herald.ie

My friend sometimes goes to Residence. He says it is actually OK but one time he took exception to something that was said. A guy who had too much to drink was looking all over for his jacket which he had misplaced. When he was shown a few jackets by another member of my friends group he singled one out and said “I would never ever wear something like that”.

In 2006 I got a gift of a years membership of a different private members club in Dublin. It was not bad and an option of somewhere else to go on a night out. I got a slagging from a lot of people about it and they appeared to like it in spite of their preconceptions. My membership ran out and I didn’t want to renew it. I always felt too young in there, mostly to do with the 40th birthday parties they held on a weekly basis with awkward outsiders brought in en-masse diluting the air of “exclusivity”. Bono’s assistants 30th bash was there. Bono and the guy who designed the claw (Gavin Friday) and Guggi were all there. Even Mrs Bono (Ali Hewson) felt overwhelmed and I heard her on the stairs getting re-assurance from Bono; “noooooo – they loved you”.

I wrote about the place recently and noted that some guys from Cork were behaving very strangely on their trip to the Capital. Someone else I know from Cork was brought there before by a Dubliner who was keen to impress. In her inimitable way she described the place with doorbell and the statues on door as “complete fucking bullshit”.

I will leave it up to the nz herald to do the talking:

“Ireland have been unable to find a quality first five-eighths for years to mount a genuine challenge to Ronan O’Gara. The fact that Argentinian Felipe Contepomi has held down the No 10 jersey for Leinster, the powerful Irish province, is hardly unconnected.”

“They have just one true world-class player, Brian O’Driscoll, who has formed an exciting, wonderfully skilful and entertaining midfield partnership with the young Welsh centre Jamie Roberts. The pair represented the sole threat to South Africa in last week’s first test.”

nzherald.co.nz

The mirror said: “A tragic error from Ronan O’Gara after superb team effort”.

This is the same Tony Tone that slept in my bed in my parents house (thankfully I was’nt using it at the time) and he called me “Evil Simpsons Baby”

This is the same Tony Tone who hails from Laoise or some other dreaded midlands hellhole – must be confused with the GAA jersey. Tony, how can you be a Leinster rugby supporter – you are from outside the pale remember? I am sure the Munster fans wouldn’t mind adopting you.

Is it any wonder people dont like their supporters with attitudes like this:

Rocky, Rocky, what an absolute legend. Just give him the ball v Munster and make sure y’all follow him to the line. And for Gods sake when dOC, O’Gara and Leamy start mouthing off early on, punch their gob- end of story. Not you Rocky- we need you on the pitch for the full 80

This guy sounds like he needs as punch in the mouth too.
http://leinsterrugby.wavenex.ie/players/152-rocky-elsom-flanker