Every time that she sells herself to me
She seems a little bit cheaper in my eye
What started out as a flower, losses her pedals
Rose red fading to a base metal

I like to say that she’s asking for it
Dressed up and showing off her bits
No more real than a plastic doll
An angelic figure ready to fall.

I’ll take her and make a show
So as to increase my renown
She’ll remain an eternal wilted flower
So that all can see corrupting power.

I’ll take a back seat to my art
This is not so show how I’m smart
It’s to stop the rot and arrest the decline
By making something dirty into the sublime

Talking about Revolution

found my self at a dinner last March and at the table there was a mature student of development. As you can imagine she had a number of views on the state of the world and where we were headed. At the time she was optimistic that 2008 would be a momentous year and there would be shifts in the way we do things for the better. I think she was particularly stirred by the message coming from the Obama campaign but she also made the point that every twenty years or so there’s a big moment in society. I’d like to speak to her now and see how she feels 2008 lived up to her prediction. Obama got in but the world didn’t become a better place overnight, this was never going to be the case despite our society’s expectations for instant gratification we have to accept that some things take time to achieve.

She could point to the eruptions in the financial sector that rocked the world in the latter part of the year but as she was referencing past events which stirred the people I’d feel she’d be stretching it a bit to compare the unravelling of a unethical financial system to the mass movements which took place in 1968 and 1989, I don’t want to trivialise the misfortunate of ordinary people who lost their savings it just seems to lack the same power of the repercussions of the events of 68 and 89. To take two examples, one from each year, the effects of the Prague Spring were a realisation of just how far the Soviets would go to maintain the sphere of influence, further curtailing of peoples rights, the denial of a possibility of a middle way and disillionsment of an entire population in the system which ruled them. From the events of 1989 we have a larger EU, democratic governments across most of Europe, not to mention the boon map makers enjoyed in the early 90s as new countries popped up. I’m just not sure if anything which has happened during this crisis lives up with that.

I do think that she may have just gotten her predication slightly off. We had 1968 and the 1989 so the next logical moment is sometime in 2010. As I mentioned earlier things take time. Maybe what’s been going on are just the first rumblings of a revolution. Perhaps next year car workers will seize control of the Detroit factories and start producing co-op cars. We could see stand-offs in capitals across the world as recovery remains stubbornly slow and people realise that changes have been cosmetic.

Except in Ireland where things will continue on as normal. We just don’t seem to get as animated about these things as other places. I could blame it on the weather. The fact that it’s always pretty mild has made us given us a placid national mood. The weather doesn’t move from one extreme to another and neither does our temperament. So as a result we ride these surges of emotions out and adept which ever system seems to be working best to our own needs.

Now while I’m a fan off ascribing behaviour to the weather it does smack a bit of blaming the stars for the guiding the fates of individuals so I gave some more thought to the idea of way as a people we haven’t histrocially gotten to pent up on ideals, the biggest march I’ve heard of in this country was over an increase in tax not exactly a statement of belief in a grand idea. Our main ideal has been national independence. We never really had a struggle between ourselves, we always had an outsider as an enemy. Even those freedom fighters of the past who had other political ideals beside independence are now more commonly remembered as members of the independence. As we had no alternative political culture to independence once we had achieved independence this did for a majority of the population fulfil their ideal. As a result government became about management and improving our lot. The political system grew out of the independence struggle and hasn’t altered much since then, occasionally new parties have been brought about my issues of the day but none of these has stood the test of time yet (it remains to be seen how the Greens will grow as a party). To this day independence can be used as a rallying cry for a number of issues, hence you get people claiming to be republicans without realising that in a republic you have to respect the wishes and beliefs of all members of the republic, and stunts the growth of other ideals. Therefore since our historical ideal has been achieved for the majority of people, I know I’m ignoring the North but I think it’s best for all concerned if we all did that, there’s no passion for other ideals.

Or perhaps there’ll be no protests because 2010 is a world cup year and as I write we have a better than evens chance of qualifying which will provide a national distraction to anything else that’s going on.

I for one can't wait to see what happens and only I hope that I'm a bit more accurate in my predications than my scholar of development friend. --

Joe the Scarecrow

The sun was coming up over the field which Joe the Scarecrow was guarding. It was a cool, crisp morning, with little wind worth mentioning. The early morning scavengers were circling the air above the field scanning to see what pickings there was for breakfast. None of them dared get too close to the field for Joe had a fearsome reputation amongst the feathered fellows who flew in that area.

Joe was watching the birds as they watched him. Muttering to himself and hoping they’d approach. He was feeling grumpy this morning, feeling aware of the passing of time and the effect it was having him. The few days previous to this had been blustery and Joe had been tossed around like the man of straw that he was. He was sure that he had lost some straw and was looking a bit more raggedy than usual. His hat had blown off and Joe could just about make it out at the far end of the field. He could only hope that when the farmer came by later he’d notice it and put it back on Joe’s head but the old farmer seemed to notice less and less these days.

Joe had been guarding this field for a long, long time. He had kept all sorts of crops safe and scared away generations of birds. He was just beginning to think back on his earliest days on the field when he had been freshly stuffed and his clothes weren’t as weather beaten as they were know when one brave young bird swooped down to pick at some of the crops growing in the fertile ground. Joe let out the most bird-blood curdling scream he could which shocked the young bird who had been foolish enough to descend into Joes field. Joe had been an inquisitive scarecrow when he had started out and was determined to be the scariest thing around. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. The birds around his fields were a notoriously tough bunch of birds. The food supply was sparse and so they were prepared to put up with a large amount of discomfort and danger to get their feed. Still they had certain survival instincts which overruled their bravery and caused them to fly away. With this in mind Joe had studied the language of the birds and come up with a highly respectable imitation of a cry off a large and aggressive gull who was appeared to be fast approaching the area where the scavenger was plucking. With this skill acquired he was able to keep his field a bird free zone.

Those early days learning birdcalls seemed like another lifetime. There had been big changes in his surroundings since then. Back then the farmers house had been smaller and greyer. There had been little people running around all the time, these days the little people only appeared every once in a while and didn’t spend so much time here. They didn’t seem to run around as much then. Back then the fields had been empty as far as he could see, aside from the odd scarecrow trying to keep his fields free. There were more houses scattered in his line of view and it seemed that there were less scarecrows around too. Things were noisier now too. In his younger days he was able to enjoy the silence of the countryside but over the past few years he had noticed that this silence was disturbed more and more often by some strange rumbling noises coming from behind him. Sometimes on the windy days when he was being blown around he could see things flash by at the edge of the field that were the sources of these noises but he didn’t know what they were. A man thing no doubt.

The day had well and thoroughly started by now, the farmer and his wife were out doing their various bits and pieces. She was feeding the chickens while he was bringing the cows off wherever it was that he brought the cows everyday. Joe knew that there was much from them to do but it also seemed to him that it was taking longer and longer for them to get things done. They seemed to have slowed down like the shadows on a summers day. How did it come about that while everything else seemed to be getting faster that these two were ignoring that pressure and taking things slowly. Then again Joe thought, that maybe it was his preception that was slowing down. There was less straw in his head than there use to be so things didn't move as quickly through it as they use to.

Around the middle of the day things stopped for the farmer and his wife. Joe watched as the farmer made his way to an old table under a tree and waited there while his wife came out with two steaming plates. This ritual had been observed ever since they had knocked the smaller grey house in favour of the white house which was twice as high as the old one. The couple ate on the site where the old house use to be. In the past it had included the little ones but now it was their own private ritual, solemnly observed.

Normally after lunch the farmer would wander his fields, checking around and fixing anything that needed fixing. He'd never fix anything that wasn't broken. Today though he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get up from his dining table and the reason soon became clear as a car came up the drive way through the house. A young man got out of the car, approached the farmer and shook him by the hand. While the young man seemed friendly and relaxed there Joe noticed that the farmer had tensed up and was did not appear to be at all happy with the presence of this man on his land. The farmers body language reminded Joe of the time when the cattle had been sick and the farmer had been taken another visitor around the farm to check on them.

Joe watched as the two of them set off around the farm, stopping every once in a while as the farmer pointed something out or the visitor asked a question on something. They came through Joe’s field but they didn’t come close enough for Joe to hear what was being said between the two of them. All Joe could tell was that the younger man seemed very impressed with what he was saying. After about an hour the visitor left, handing the farmer a bundle of papers before he did so.

While all this was going on the farmers wife had been busying herself within the house but Joe noticed that she would occasionally come to the window or the back door and look out at what was going on. Once the visitor had left the farmer headed inside and stayed there for quite some time.

He eventually came out to bring the cows in. Joe watched as he made his slow trip up and back with them. Joe noticed that the farmer seemed to be talking to his cows in a different manner to how he usually would. On a normal day the farmer would shout and curse the cows up the path but today he seemed to be more serene with them, giving each one a gentle path as he brought them inside.

When he was done with the cows the farmer came into Joes field, picked up Joes hat and placed it on his head.
-Noticed this caught in the bushes when I was showing your man around earlier, the farmer said to Joe, anyway you’ll be seeing a lot more of that fellow soon enough. He’ll be taking over from me, it’s a damn shame that none of the kids want this place but what can you do. You might be coming to the end of your time here as well. Maybe the new fellow won’t hold with scarecrows, he might set up one of those recorded shotgun blasts. Still I won’t be taking you down. You’re part of the land as far as I’m concerned and if he wants the land he can take you too.

Joe watched as the farmer walked home. Joe wondered what a recorded shotgun blast was and how it would keep the birds away.--

Hanging Socks

It had started as a normal enough day for Socks the Cat. He had come back from his night wander at the time when he knew the humans would be eating. He made sure that they saw him and thus remembered to leave out food for him. Then when they had gone off to wherever it was they went during the day he had begun to wander around his garden domain. Little did he know that in a few hours he would be fighting for his life.

Socks wandered spent some time sitting on a wall enjoying the hear of the sun while gazing out at the world around him. Then after chewing on some grass he decided to do some climbing. He started on some of the easier trees in the garden which he ambled up with no effort. After mastering these trees he decided to take on the big bush. There was a lot of growth on this bush and the branches grew out at unusual angles making it quite difficult to climb. Socks had tried it a few times before and each attempt had been extremely difficult, requiring him to test and contort his body into all sort of strange shapes to get to the top. It gave him the best work out of anything in the garden.

As was normal he approached the bush slowly. Taking a long around and trying to decide the best position to enter from. He decided that today he would go at it from the side. He gently put his front paw on the lowest branch to test it’s strength. Once he was sure that it would support him he began to make progress up the bush. He stretched his paws out in front of him to reach branches which would support him and aide his progress up the tree. He was making good progress up bush, in fact he was three quarters of the way to the top, when all of a sudden what had seemed like a steady branch bent and gave way underneath him sending him plummeting towards the ground. If he had been to make it all the way to the ground it would not have been an issue as he was sure to land on his feet but somehow his collar got caught in a branch pulling tight on his neck, choking the life out of him. Socks paniced and struggled against the pull on his collar trying to pull himself further up the tree to give him some breathing space but he was unable to get any leverage and ended up being dragged back down to his original position being hung from a branch.

He decided he needed that he not going to be able to reposition himself on a branch and that he must escape his collar. With this in mind he stretched all four of his paw out and wrapped thema around a branch vertically opposite to where he was hanging from. He pulled himself toward that branch stretching the collar out, which had the disadvantage of increasing the pressure on his windpipe but he knew he would have to take this risk if he was going to survive. He managed to get enough pull on the collar that he could squeeze his head out of his own death trap and drop to the ground for what he had to admit was one of his less graceful landings.

Socks looked back at the collar with anger before going to lie in the sun and recover. --

The Return of Sid the Squid

We last saw Sid the Squid slither home
In that time he had licked his wounds
Formulate a plan and hone
It till no flaw could be found.

He followed the battles of Eauman
With obsessive attention, studying his rival
Noting his moves and like a star struck fan
Until his knowledge of Eauman was archival.

It seemed clear to him now,
That no one fish could defeat,
That green and gold hero who hit with a pow
And was too sharp to fall for a deceit.

If I'm to achieve my ultimate aim,
I'll need a major league crew
And I know which fishes help to obtain
To help me make sure Eauman is through.

So Sid the Squid went out to recruit
The feared and loathed Mussel Mob
Whose reputation left no dispute
That they were the only ones to make Eauman sob.

With the mussel secured Sid was sure
That this time his plan would not fail
And with this thought he felt secure
As they approached Deep Sea city with darkness as a veil.


The Mussel Mob hit the plankton depot
In a loud and noticeable way
In order to attract our famous hero
Who would come to save the day.

When Eauman appeared the Mussel Mob struck.
Entrapping Eauman by encasing him in sea silk.
Sid appeared to ink Eauman now that he was stuck,
Knowing a victory would make him a legend to his ilk.

Eauman was in trouble and he knew it well
He pretended to struggle as Sid began to brag
Eauman knew he must create a swell
To clean the ink from his eyes and make the silk lag.

But such a big swell would endanger Deep Sea city and it's fishizens
So Eauman knew that he would have bid his time and wait
Till the villains took him along to show-off to their kin.
It would be this pride that would bring about his enemies defeat.

And indeed it was so that the villains did want to exhibit
Their achievement to fellow evil doers
And they spirited Eauman to a place bad fish inhabit
Believing they had beaten him with their powers.

So Eauman waited till the city was far
Before suddenly going in to a spin
And creating a swell which took the conflict to a level par
Though Eauman still had much to do to win

The Mussel Mob were attacked
He took aim at their hinges
Forcing them open and before the mob could react
He was smashing their their softness until they did cringe.

With the Mussel Mob well beat
Eauman wanted to make Sid the Squid pay.
But the slippery squid was on the retreat
Eauman knew this feud would have to be settled some other day.

Suzie the Sultry Salmon Schemes against Eauman

We’ve seen that when it comes to a fight
There’s no need to for us to worry
Because Eauman will be alright
And it’s the villain who’ll be sorry.

It’s his strength and his speed
That serves him so well in battle
Allowing him to beat evil’s seed
While he kept himself in fine fettle.

But Eauman was still a man with manly faults,
Leaving him venerable to more delicate traps
An enemy using a more subtle assualt,
Might leave Eauman feeling quite the sap.

So Suzie the Sultry Salmon set and schemed
A way to get at Eauman and under his skin.
She needed a diversion, something not as it seemed
A ploy to make Suzie seem clean of sin.

She hired a goon, a down on his luck cod,
They staged a hold-up in the hope,
That Eauman would appear and trod
The poor cod until he couldn't cope.

The plan worked with a hitch
Eauman appeared to save Suzie
Who seemed to be in quite a pinch
How was he to know she was just a fluzie?

Once the cod had been dispatched
Eauman turned upon Suzie his steely gaze,
Noticed her pink skin, his hero reserve smashed,
As he planned taking her for days and days.

Suzie the Sultry Salmon saw the look in his eyes
She swam seductively towards Eauman, her saviour
She proclaimed. With you my saftey lies.
Eauman tried to play it cool, just glad to have won her favour.

They moved for an embrace, Suzie sensing victory,
She knew her kiss to be enchanted,
Eauman would be powerless, her toy
And that he would be supplanted.

Suzie the Sultry Salmon would have
Deep sea city in her petite fins
After the kiss, Eauman would stay in her cave
While she ruled the city and it's kin.

Their lips met and Suzie thought she had won
She pulled back in delight, expecting Eaumans face
To be blank, awaiting her instructions as if she was his one
But Eauman was in control, with nothing out of place.

For he was not so easily swayed by the kiss
Of a villian, with a ploy so old and used
Only a novice wouild have been able to miss
The trick and end up in cave with the city abused.

He'd applied some lip balm protection,
Relied on his fish good looks,
To create in Suzie some affection
So that when she swoned, he struck.

So in a flash Suzie was defeated.
While her head will still a spin.
She took a deep breath and bereated
Herself for thinking that she could win.

Budget Reaction

So what's going to happen next? We've had the April Budget, hopefully not to be come a spring fixture, which seems a bit to me like the political equivalent of searching down the back of the sofa for lose change. Everyones being hurt, so we hear anyway, and everyone is sitting down now and trying to figure out how to get enjoyment out of life on less as well as looking around to see what has not been Understandable as this is in the rush to cut cloth after the budget there seems to be an oversight of the more artful aspects of the budget. There's a general consenus that the arts thrieve in a recession, presumably because people have more time on their hands to be creative and so the minister for finance has included some ammo in his budget to allow some satarical characterisation of himself.

There's the decsion to cut the Christmas bonus for the unemployed which leaves hims open to a bit of photoshopping and turned in Scrooge, this is a bit obvious I know but with free sheets and all that we've got a lazy media and so it's best to cater for them. I would suggest using the Michael Caine version from a Muppets Christmas Carol. The Grinch is another option. Of course both these characters had changes of heart brought about by the a bit of festive spirt. Unfortuantly I doubt that Lenihan will expereince such a turn around and descend with Turkeys for all us Crokkets.

Of course there's also the possibility that the budget is part of a grand master plan that we're all missing as we get caught up in our pockets. As I see it there are a couple of possible directions this budget could be designed to take us. It's just a matter of thinking a little bit outside the box and letting any pre-concieved ideas you might have drop. Obviously as this is a Fianna Fail plan I can't say for certain whether they're going to the left or to the right so I've presented both alternatives here.

The changes to the income levy come into force on the 1st of May, which aside from allowing us one more pay cheque, means that the workers get hit on a day traditionally associated with workers rights. When this connection was made in my head last night I began to see Lenihan in a new light. Perhaps the man has given up on the system that we have in place but has realised that there are two many vested interests involved for him to bring about change by himself. I had visions of him sitting alone in his office reading up on his Marx. Perhaps he's been have clandestine meetings with Joe Higgins to gain further insights from the man who urged the people to retake the factories recently on his Che documentary. Then one night, after several cans of Bavaria, the idea hits him. Screw everyone on Mayday when revoultion will be in the air anyway. The marchers will have something to hang their marchs on and will attract more than the usual rabble of crusty hippies. Angered by the new budget measures the people will raise and sieze power. The politicians will be run from Lenister house, Lenihan by the way will have quietly slipped out of the country at this stage, and a new workers utopia with no levys will be formed. While this is going on Lenihan will have undergone plastic surgery and re-entered the country, once the dust has settled, as a fire-breeding man of the people. Changing his political colours to mesh with the mood of the times in true Fianna Fáil fashion.

Of course I could be wrong about the whole left wing plot theory. If there is a conspiracy in the budget it's more likely to be a right wing one, left wing people tend to be more idealistic and less prone to plotting believing that one day people will get tired and rise up. Now where is the right wing conspiracy in this budget. It's through the attack on the children. The halfing of the care allowance which is preceeding it's abolution next year. I believe this is part of a scheme to force women out of the work force as they will have to devote their time to childcare. This would of course have the knock on effect of boosting freeing up jobs for men and boosting the employment rate. I believe this is part of a grander plan to take us back to sometime in the mid twenieth century but that's something I'll go into in greater detail at a later date.--

What Pallos did next

After Pallos the Clown had left the circus he spent sometime wandering trying to figure out what to do with himself. This uncertainty had plagued him since the start of his journey. He had been five minutes away from his trailer when he thought that he might be better off taking a few of his belongings with him. Even though there was nothing in there worth keeping, it had occurred to him on reflection that there was stuff in there worth having. Changes of clothes and other such little conveniences which would make a journey of discovery more manageable. So for this reason he made a quick return to his trailer where he started to throw his clothes into a back pack. As he was emptying out his draws he came across his original red nose. He had replaced it for performances a few years back as it had started to look worn out and dirty. It’s red was more the dull red of a drunks nose than the bright red of a clowns one. It wouldn’t be fair to say that he had held onto it for sentimental reasons. It was more the case that he didn’t like throwing anything out and so had kept it for that reason. He hadn’t seen it in years and in truth hadn’t thought about it at all either. Coming across it now, at a time when he was making a break, it suddenly seemed significant so he stuffed it in his pocket and left his trailer.

After his 2nd and final departure Pallos took a quick trek through the woods until he came upon the main road where he hitched a lift from a talkative trucker. The trucker took Pallos along for two towns. While this journey took place the trucker gave his opinions on everything from the weather to the government to the state of the nations roads which seemed to be his major gripe. Pallos sensing that he was there as a focus for this drivers discourse didn’t try to interject his own opinions on any of the subjects covered but did his best to appear attentive and interested in what was being said to him. He was glad to finally get out of the truck. He hadn’t really planned this town as his disembarking point. It was just that after two hours of being talked at he felt that he needed some peace. So when the driver stopped to answer the call of nature Pallos excused himself and wandered around the town. It was a strange time of night to be wandering in such a small town. It was too early for places catering to the early birds to be open but the night owls had been turfed long ago from their perches. Pallos took in the silence of the town. It was a pleasant change now after the time spent with the talkative trucker where over the course of two hours Pallos had realised just how much a bubble being in the circus had created around him. He had no knowledge of most of the topics that the trucker had covered. He hadn’t needed to know about these things and hadn’t bothered. It seemed unnecessary. It still seemed unnecessary. Most of the stuff the trucker had talked about seemed to big for Pallos to comprehend. They were definitely to big for him to do anything. It was better if he simply got his own head together and found some focus for himself.

Pallos spent the wee hours wandering around the town. He was surprised that he felt no need to sleep. He’d normally be in a deep sleep by this time. Especially after a show when the crashing emptiness he’d feel would send him to bed. Now though, as the night crept into morning, he was feeling fully awake and clear headed, it was just that he didn’t have anything to do with this energy. He wandered down the main street of the town where all the shops were shut down. He could see the manniquins through some of the shutters. Their plastic stillness adding to the eerie tone which was hanging over the town. Pallos walked on, taking turns at random with no plan other than to keep moving. It was chilly enough at this time of the night. It was spring and the weather was improving but the heat wasn’t sticking around in the night. He found his way to a little park. The gate was locked but wasn’t high enough to stop someone getting inside if they really wanted to. Pallos hopped the gate and was inside the park. He walked across the pristinely kept grass listening for the sounds of any animals scampering away at the sound of his approach. He heard nothing. As if outside the big top he had no substance. The thought that he became a non-person when out clown gear struck him. Even the wildlife was not phased by his presence. Pallos came to the edge of the pond and looked out on the still dark water. He wondered what he was going to do next. There was a realisation as to what he had done creeping in. The circus really was the only thing he knew. Despite the fact that he found it a deeply dissatisfying and draining experience it was all he had known for the past 15 years. Which left him with the question of what exactly he would do now?

As Pallos pondered this he became aware of the fact that his stomach was empty. He knew there was no point in teasing out such an important issue on an empty stomach. As light was creeping into the day he decided that he’d head back up to the town to see if there was any life yet and more importantly to see if there was any breakfast to be had. The town was slowly coming to life when Pallos walked back in. Those early human indicators of daytime where up and about. Milkmen and bakers made their deliveries. Lights were in on breakfast joints even if the doors were yet to be opened. Pallos came to a street with three places looking like they were getting ready to open up and decided that he would wait until one of them did so.

Pallos waited for about 20 minutes before the first place opened. He went inside and ordered a fry with orange juice and coffee. There was a stack of papers left on the counter and Pallos took one to read. He scanned through the main news articles. There was the usual array of bad news. Pallos was feeling in a strange mood and didn’t want to tip it down with the problems of the world so he just passed by those pages as quickly as he could. About halfway through the paper he found something that grabbed his interest. There was a man in the west who promised to set people along the right path. He claimed that by talking to people for some time he was able to steer them in the right direction for their life. The article was full of testimony from people who had sought guidance from him and had their life reinvigorated by his advice. Some of them had quit their jobs to start new careers, others had kept on at what they were doing but found that their focus and passion had been renewed following his intervention. A few had stayed on with him on his land working with the earth. Pallos the Clown took a sip of his coffee and decided that he would go to meet this man to see what direction he would steer him in.

Eauman battles Fred the Flying Gunard

Many moons have past
Since Eauman battled Sid the Squid
And sent him away with a mighty blast
Creating a myth for all deep sea city's kids

But evil never rests
And as Sid licked his wounds
A new villain intended to show he was best
With a plan to knock Eauman to the ground

From deep down in his lair
Fred the Flying Gurnard schemed
And believed our hero should beware
I'll hurt Eauman in ways he never dreamed

Fred the Flying Gurnard crawled along the ocean floor
Till he came in sight of deep sea city's buildings
Now I'll make some noirs and bring out that do-gooding bore
And he began to flex his muscle and create a drumming

The foundations of the city began to shake
And young baby fish began to cry
While adult fish were shaken awake
And Fred, having spread panic, began to fly

For this was the 1st stage of his plan
Now he hovered above to wait
For the appearance of Eauman
Who he was sure would meet a terrible fate

And Eauman, he did appear
Fred swooped gown flashing his fins
Their brightness blinded Eauman who now could hear
Nothing but Freds drumming, his chances looked thin.

Eauman tried to strike a blow,
But bounced of Freds armoured gills
This truly was a testing foe
A victory would take all of Eaumans skills

So he gathered his thoughts, took a moment and he went into a spin,
creating current to break Freds dreadful drumming beat
And then he struck the underbelly where the gills were thin
Pushing Fred a tail swish closer to defeat.

Fred was hurt; for Eauman packed a punch
Fred tried his drumming again
But Eauman brought a coral down on Fred with a crunch
Leaving Fred with a stupefied grin.

The battle was done
Fred could see he was beat.
Eauman was the one
Who would keep crime off the street

Pallos the Clown

Pallos the clown was sad. The lights had come down and the big top had emptied out. The high of the laughter was leaving him and he was beginning to feel like the big top, empty. Pallos had put on a good show. The crowd had laughed at his jokes, his falls and his flops. While all this was going on Pallos was on top of the world. He had gotten himself caught up in the show and so nothing else mattered but nailing the custard pie bit, nothing was more important than the look of joy on the child in the front rows face as Pallos handed him his balloon giraffe. Now though there was nothing to do but remove his make-up and change into his regular normal size shoes. He’d be able to walk amongst the people who less than half an hour ago had been captivated by his antics and they wouldn’t think he was anything more than a every day mid 30s commuter. Pallos travelled in the trail of the crowd. Everywhere around him there were the signs of a large mass of people who had been enjoying their night. There were scatterings of empty pop-corn buckets and drink cups all along the ground. Amongst these you could see the rubber of a burst balloon on the ground which caused Pallos to stop and ponder on the fate of all the balloon animals he had created during his career. How long was it, he wondered, before the joy the child had experienced on receiving this circus visit bonus turned to despair as the balloon burst or would the child experience the slow sorrow of fading life as the balloon animal shrivelled up and died. Pallos sighed and continued his lonely walk to his trailer where there was a solitary dinner waiting for him.

Things hadn’t always been like this for Pallos, the after show use to be a great time for him. He remembered when he first started in the clown game, when he had been young and eager. His bit was in the middle of the show. He’d entertain the crowd while the hands were setting up for the acrobats and tight-rope walkers to perform. His shows had always gone down well even then when he was kinda green. Back then he was part of a double act with Bonzo, an old clown who was coming the time to hang up his red nose when Pallos was coming through. Pallos had hit upon the idea of doing a little after show for the patrons as they left the big top. Nothing to fancy, he did some funny walks, a few magic tricks he picked up along his way to being a clown, told a few jokes and of course made some balloon animals for anyone who wanted one. The shows were quite a hit with the circus attendees and of course the bosses didn’t mind as Pallos never looked for anything extra for doing them, well aside from using the circus’s balloons supplies up a little bit quicker than would otherwise have been the case. Those were great days, Pallos had never interacted as much with the crowds as much as he did in those little exit shows of his. While the big top shows were great for the amount of people he reached and the roar of laughter he got when he got a bucket of water upended on his head, with the bucket getting stuck over his eyes, the quiet chuckles he got for telling a bad joke to a couple of families on their way to the car sometimes gave him a better buzz. It was the personal connection he supposed. The ability to look your audience in the eyes as you did your performance.

Of course these shows didn’t last for ever. Things changed as they do. Tighter insurance regulations prevented Pallos from performing outside the Big Tops in some arenas. Some of the other performers started to object what Pallos was doing. It was usually the case that it was the last performer on the bill that objected. They said that they were the grand finale, the act that people were suppose to be going home thinking about, they worked long and hard perfecting the act often with the pain and suffering caused by getting it wrong and taking a nasty bump. They didn’t want their thunder stolen by a clown act. Then there was the fact the Pallos got cynical and lazy. The years of working in the circus knawed as his desire to amuse, he now longer had the desire the reach people on a personal level. The selfishness and egos of the other performers had started to eat away at his hunger and his drive. He heard things come from the mouths of family entertainers that sickened up to his clown soul. People who made their living providing joy and excitement to the crowds bad mouthing the very people that kept them fed and clothed. He had stopped mixing with the other circus folk after about two years of his trade. He found that they had a collective smugness about them, a combination of being artists and travellers allowed them to think they were better than the 9-5ers they preformed for and this attitude would come through in snide little remarks throughout an evening of socialising. Some of them were not so subtle about their views when they’d had a few drinks on them, which was most nights, and so Pallos the clown found it more enjoyable to keep himself to himself and work on his act or think how after 15 years of being a clown there wasn’t a lot else he could do with his act.

He had once thought of leaving the circus and setting himself up for children’s parties but after talking to some clown colleagues who were in the kids party business he decided against it. It was a completely different world from that of the circus where the children were with their families and controlled by the seating arrangements in the big top. With parties the kids ran wild, pumped up on sugar and excitement, they were not as civilised as they appeared in the big top. Pallos had heard stories of child handled wigs, pulled red noses and constantly sticky big shoes. Over-sized novelty shoes were enough trouble to walk in without the extra problem of them sticking to the ground all the time so he decided that the big top was a better bet.

As Pallos walked along he passed the trailer of Strongman John where there would always be a few circus folk unwinding after the show. Pallos could hear muffled laughter and someone plucking on a guitar. He sighed at the thought of the night that lay ahead for them and more importantly the morning that they would have in store. The circus was moving on. This would involve an early rise to pack away the equipment and then a long drive to the next town. Pallos had done his share of those mornings in his early days with the circus and didn’t look back on them fondly. He had a little sympathy for the occupants of that trailer and continued on his way.

It was on these moving nights that Pallos felt at his lowest. It was the idea that in less than a day the little village the circus folk had erected would disappear. Pallos always thought of what they set up as a village. After all it had a central building in the big top, vendors selling their various foods and goods, and it had dwellings and other such facilities. There was a community spirit in the cirrus which added to the village feeling as far as Pallos was concerned. When it came time to take it all down Pallos felt like he was tearing down the good times. Leaving nothing behind him but some memories in the townsfolks minds. Memories that would become jumbled and fade as the time wore on until the next circus came to town to leave them with new memories. It always left him feeling temporary, something that just passed through without making any lasting mark. This was not a good way to feel as the laugher faded.

Pallos got to the front of this trailer and looked at it. This was his home, and had been since he had gotten it 7 years ago when he had taken a position with this circus. Now that he thought about it there was nothing in that trailer that he’d miss if it were to go up in smoke. No pictures and no mementos. Pallos stopped to think. He thought about tearing down the circus in the morning, he thought about the emptiness, the crushing lows when the laughter stopped and how it was harder and harder to come out of them. Pallos thought finally about how long he could manage to keep living like this before it all became too much. Pallos the clown turned away from his trailer and left the circus in search of the laughter.

Sporting Consequences

So we’ve had a massive weekend in the sporting arena. The historic winning of a Grand Slam and having our first world boxing champion in over a decade. These achievements were described as momentous which as everyone knows means that it’ll be hugely significant for future events. All this gushing about the momentum which will be created by our double sporting success got me thinking about what repercussions they would bring about.

A spike in birth rates around Christmas time.

You’d also imagine that there will be an influx of Brians, Pauls, Ronans and Bernards coming into the population.

A surge in sales of Hunky Dorys as people try to capture that Buffalo strength.

A surge in dentist visits as crisps are worse for your teeth than sweets, it’s the potato starch apparently.

A preposterous amount of ads to hit our televisions featuring the words, “Grand” “Slam” or “Champions”. Such as Nutri-grain advising us that their bars will give “Hunger the Grand Slam”

Rugby accessory sales will sky rocket.

Colour-blind people will continue to wear Munster jerseys to matches against Wales in the mistaken belief that this sort of tribalism makes them more Irish.

The next generation of Irish will become known for broken noses, following a surge in participation in boxing and rugby.

This is turn will give the plastic surgery a shout in the arm as the bent nose masses will seek corrections to look good for their wedding photos.