You might have noticed in recent times that a bunch of lowlife knackers have been giving Limerick a bad name, and we genuine Limerick folk are getting very pissed off about it. Very pissed off indeed.
On one hand, we have our local scumbag knackers shooting each other and dealing drugs. This is compounded by some lawyers who ought to know better but who clearly don’t, offering to mediate with these brutal thugs in an attempt to halt their feud. One lawyer in particular, John Devane, went on radio to offer his services in holding talks with the scumbags, and drew down a storm of rage on his head from appalled Limerick people who couldn’t believe the shite he was talking. No doubt infuriated by the sheer stupidity of the man, one caller after another challenged his proposal, which seemed to involve persuading the savages to halt their mutual murdering without addressing the real problem: the fact that these people are drug-dealing, organised criminals.
On the other hand, we have a slice of the national Dublin-based media taking yet another opportunity to switch off their coke-addled brains and indulge in the thing they do best: lazy stereotyping of Limerick.
This is astonishing hypocrisy: the people who should be carrying out the analysis and asking politicians the hard questions will settle instead for tired clichés and hackneyed shots of rundown estates with dirty old horses wandering around the greens. As if they didn’t have the same problem in Dublin and Cork and Waterford and right across the country. Not to mention right across Britain.
Even those writers with a bit of sense are in on the act. Here’s Úna Mulally writing in the Sunday Tribune:
… an entire generation of young Limerick men and women are revelling in the gangster lifestyle
An idiot, inbred subculture has adopted this lifestyle, not an entire generation of young Limerick men and women as Una states. Not my son. Not my daughter. Not any of their friends. Not the thousands of University students in this city. Not the artists. Not the sports people. Not the Olympic oarsmen and boxers. Not the musicians. Not the craftspeople. Not the theatre companies. Not the writers, nor the composers, nor the painters. Not the Irish Chamber Orchestra nor the World Music Centre. Not the honest hardworking people of my town. Not the Limerick people who routinely lift the nation’s heart with their European rugby success.
None of these are revelling in a gangster lifestyle.
A bunch of hopeless thugs have adopted this lifestyle and I’m sick and tired of being placed in the same category as these inbred fools by people too lazy to come here and find out the facts for themselves. People who prefer to take refuge in cliché and platitude.
I repeat: a few hundred worthless knackers, not the entire generation of Úna’s imagining. The other 80,000 of us are normal, decent citizens just like anyone else, but I suppose nobody on the Tribune’s editorial staff is going to question this kind of trite, predigested nonsense. It’s easier than thinking, and that’s Irish journalism for you, secure in its smug bubble.
In the third corner, we have an inert, imagination-free government, who haven’t one single clue how to deal with the vile phenomenon sweeping our country: a savage, welfare-addicted, delinquent underclass who give not one flying fuck about you, me or anyone else. A bunch of useless, fat, ignorant, boorish fucking numpties who each breed dozens of fat, ignorant, aggressive, stupid knacker-clone children, supported by my taxes and yours. Fuckers wrongly referred to as working class. Listen: I’m working class, as was my father and his father. We worked. The bastards you’re instructed to call working class these days have no intention of working, just as their forebears never worked. In their world, a father can be 14 years old, a grandfather 28, a great-grandfather 42, and a great-great-grandfather 56. A violent, scumbag great-great-grandfather. In America, they call them rednecks or white trash, and anyone who tells me not to label them can fuck off, because I’m sick of the whole fucking lot of them.
Finally, let’s not forget the PC Gestapo, who’ll shout you down every time you call a scumbag a scumbag or a knacker a knacker. These are the good people who’ll tell you all about human rights, as long as those rights belong to the fat, illiterate, stupid, etc etc. But they won’t tell you much about your rights when a member of the criminal underclass decides to stab you, or assault you, or smash your window and steal your hard-earned property, or sell drugs to your children. They won’t be saying anything about pricks like the skobe in this town who hides his €70k jeep around the corner from the welfare office before he signs on to collect his dole. These are the people who’ll lecture you about children at risk, neglecting to tell you what at risk really means: at risk of getting caught by the police after robbing you or beating you up. At risk of shooting you.
Let me say something about rights.
Rights are not automatic. Somebody who feels no allegiance to this country, who damages his community, who organises crime, who assaults his neighbours, is an enemy of our society. And it seems to me that there’s something deeply wrong when a society affords its enemies the same rights as compliant, contributing, civic spirited citizens. This is the path to society’s destruction. This is insanity.
We need to wake up and realise that these criminals have no principles, no human feeling, no remorse and no fear, because society’s response to them has been emasculated by the PC Gestapo. We need no negotiation with these groupings. We need the full power of the State apparatus to come down on them with a steel fist and smash them. Remember, you aren’t dealing with a subtle Yakuza here. You’re dealing with a bunch of ill-educated, semi-literate lowlifes, cunning and violent, but punks nevertheless.
Unfortunately, we also suffer from an incompetent, corrupt police force who prefer to bully lawabiding citizens for minor infringements and this is something that needs to be tackled urgently. We need a proper, modern, professional police force that we can trust to come down hard on thugs without misusing its power against the innocent. That means dismantling and rebuilding the police force we have.
While the thoughts of South Africa’s Security Minister might be extreme, I must admit a little Michael Douglas somewhere deep inside me gave a cheer when I read what she told police during the week.
You must kill the bastards if they threaten you or the community. You must not worry about the regulations.
I want no warning shots, you have one shot and it must be a kill shot.
I will not tolerate any pathetic excuses for you not being able to deal with crime, you have been given guns, now use them.
If criminals dare to threaten the police or the livelihood or lives of innocent men, women and children, then they must be killed.
Now that’s extreme, and I’m not advocating wholesale slaughter of criminals, though I must admit part of me would like to see it happening, but what I am advocating is this:
Stop them in the streets. Demand to know how a 17 year old can afford a €100,000 jeep. If he has no explanation, take it off him and scrap it.
Go through the title documents of their many houses. Demand to see the paperwork. Don’t accept excuses. If they’re beneficial owners without paper, take the houses. Knock them.
Investigate their welfare payments. Investigate their public housing. Find out if they deserve them.
Don’t give them free legal aid. Determine their means and make them pay just like you and me.
Take away their comfort. Arrest them for shouting. Arrest them for spitting. Arrest them for having bad dress sense. Demolish them. Wear them down. If the local cops are frightened to act and they are, because the savages know where they live bring in cops from outside, with balaclavas, Tasers, pepper spray and attack dogs.
Every time an underage child commits a crime, arrest his parents. Charge them. Jail them and put their children in care.
Get police out of their cars and onto the streets. Straighten out the coppers in this town who spend the night cruising peaceful leafy suburbs and eating doughnuts so they won’t have to confront trouble outside clubs and pubs. Sack them. Replace them with competent cops.
Appoint properly qualified people to run the police force, not hoary old bastards from a bygone age.
Get technology in there. At present, our police haven’t one clue about information technology: if you’re too fat or stupid to work the streets, they put you in the IT department. That’s how old-fashioned and incompetent our police force is. How corrupt it is.
To government, I’d say, sort it out. Recognise that the situation you confront is like a subversive threat, and treat it accordingly, without mercy. Squeeze these bastards back to the stone-age where they came from.
Losing hearts and minds …
After writing this last night I went out for a pint. Just after midnight, the fearless defenders of law and order arrived at the front door of a quiet establishment where there’s never any trouble and peremptorily ordered the owner to clear the premises forthwith.
So there you have the management standards of our police force in one officious little vignette.
The Garda Síochána: tackling crime where there is none.