I’ve been in fairly frequent correspondence with my old friend Joe-who-works-for-Halliburton-the-unprincipled-bastard. Let’s call him Joe d’Arab, for simplicity. Actually, he’s a baldy fucker from Tipperary (hock-thooey!) but we’ll overlook that. His second most recent email was to point out to me that Denis Leamy is from the next parish to him outside Fethard, and I thought to myself, well isn’t that a good one. Here’s a guy living in some 99th floor luxury penthouse in Cairo. His business card says something like
Joe d’Arab, MSc PhD MBA MMR HDip LlB UAE IBM RTE TWA ESB iPod ABC IFA DDT BBC NRA GTi
Halliburton Asset-stripping Division,
And he’s up there on top of a gigantic tower there in downtown Cairo, relaxing in his tennis whites after a hard day schmoozing with the King of Bhutan, and what is he thinking? Is he thinking, Christ, what a tycoon I am. Dick will be delighted with me and the next time we go hunting together, he won’t shoot me or anything? No. Is he thinking, that was great the way I bought all the oil in Iraq for fourpence, and now I’m going to sell it for 93 squillion hobnobnillion dollaroids? No.
He’s thinking, I can’t let that fucker get away with calling Leamy a Limerickman.
Nice one Joe.