As I passed two girls in the street the other day, I heard a snippet of conversation.
He’s such a feckin Guard! said one and they both laughed.
Only in Ireland would that make any sense whatever, but it’s true. They’re not just police. They’re feckin Guards with all the sophistication that two years in Templemore brings. They’re feckin Guards and they can’t wait to get out there ordering The Public to move along.
How do you graduate from Templemore? It’s a tough test. You have to say fifty times without stumbling, Yer speech is slurred and yer eyes are glazed. Now move on.
Only then will you be free to get out there and start collecting hawks for yourself and shagging nurses. And eventually, as long as you never, ever rock the boat, and never, ever criticise the received wisdom that was handed down through generations of Members since the Thirties, you might rise through the ranks and become a Chief, which is a position only two steps removed from God Almighty, but you will always be a feckin Guard.
You probably read my story about the Pissing File of Schull, didn’t you?
No? Well here it is again. Oh, they’re a scream. Remember the one about the feckin Guards farting at a suspect? You just couldn’t make it up, unless of course, you were a feckin Guard, in which case you can make up whatever you want.
Yes, Judge. He struck my baton forcibly with his forehead. His eyes were glazed and his speech was slurred.
What’s their latest comedy offering? Well, I suppose you heard about that fiasco in the Phoenix Park when three guys playing records pretended to be a band, Swedish Horse Massage I think, and then various lowlife scumbags went around knifing people. Yeah. That one.
It seems the feckin Guards have come up with a report in which they blame, well, everyone except themselves. They blame the promoters, MCD, which in itself is a bit of a high-risk strategy since MCD are well-known for suing anyone who looks crooked at them. They blame the patrons of the concert. They even blame the music.
That’s right. The music is at fault.
According to the Garda report on the drunken carry-on, the Phoenix Park is not suitable for, quote, “outdoor electric music concerts”.
Was anyone under the age of seventy involved in drawing up this report? Wait. What am I talking about? Mick Jagger is seventy next year. Paul Simon is seventy-one next birthday.
Jesus, I didn’t know they had ninety-year-olds making policy in the feckin Guards. That explains a lot.
Outdoor electric music concerts. I ask you. It’s a wonder they didn’t blame beat groups and immodest dancing. Did they think of consulting anyone who might actually know something about this, who could maybe set them straight. Probably not. Better to rely on intelligence, if that isn’t too much of an oxymoron.
But let’s go back to this outdoor electric music for a minute. What is it exactly? I mean, supposing PJ or TJ married Nuala the nurse, and they decided to hire the Kilfenora Céilí Band for the weddin’, would there be a problem if the fella with the accordion fed it through an amp? Would a crowd of knife-wielding ecstasy dealers turn up and start slashing at all the guests while dancing the Freddy Krueger hornpipe?
Would they be breaking the law?
Don’t be ridiculous. Feckin Guards can’t break the law, especially when the squad is parked round the back and all the lads are down there havin a few jars and chattin up Nuala’s pals from the A&E. Now, if it was a pub open ten minutes too late, that would be a different matter, since one piece of wisdom handed down from the Thirties is that you must control the pubs, even if the miscreants inside happen to be a few locals having a quiet chat. You can’t have that. Yer eyes are glazed and yer speech is slurred. Get out now.
That time they had the Pope in the Phoenix Park, to the best of my knowledge, they had music and I do believe it was amplified, but that’s probably not the sort of outdoor electric music the feckin Guards are thinking of, especially since there’s every chance one of their brothers was up there on the stage waving his hands around in concelebrated insanity with JPII.
Outdoor electric music. Isn’t that somethin them feckin hippies do?
Having said all that, let’s be honest. The feckin Guards were right about one thing. House attracts more than the average share of skangers and lowlifes. Admit it and move on.
Here’s another old guy (76).