DISPLACED IN MULLINGAR:I WAS INVITED to dinner on midsummer's eve. The dessert was a cheesecake dripping with a warm red sauce, which astonished everyone. It was made from blackberries picked last autumn, and kept in the freezer during the winter.
Over coffee, there was mention of the Lisbon Treaty, and I, having guzzled far too much wine, made a disgrace of myself, yet again. I cannot bear to recall the full account of what happened; the real truth may be even darker than the distorted memory that now haunts me.
"The Irish," I boldly asserted, "are a righteous people! We smashed the authority of the church because we saw through that corrupt institution.
"We took no guff from politicians, who were up to their necks in fancy mansions, yachts, and French neckties. We retained elegant tribunals, in order to scourge wicked men. These things we did, because we are a righteous people."
By then I was on my feet. "And we are a great people; a nation of athletes, gold medallists, giants of the soccer field; and by far, the best artists and musicians on earth. Dare I remind you that we were the nation who gave the world Riverdance? And we have probably the youngest population in the world. We have the greatest post-modernist spike in the world.
"We are the people that told Europe to stick the Eurovision Song Contest up its rear end, with a brilliantly-conceived Post-Modernist joke, which was an extraordinary achievement for a nation still struggling to discover the Enlightenment, never mind Modernism."
Applause greeted these sentiments. Murmurs of "Hear! Hear!"
And I realised that my patient study of the oratory of Barack Obama on YouTube had not been in vain.
I stood now upon my chair, a napkin stained with crimson berries in my left hand, my right palm firmly upon my breast.
"We are the most politically sophisticated people in the world," I continued. "Yet even we could not understand the Lisbon Treaty. Even people like Eamon Dunphy and Sinéad O'Connor could not understand it; people who know more about everything than anyone else. How then, were the poor, oppressed and unlettered, salt of the earth, supposed to comprehend it?"
The dishes were swept away, the linen cloth withdrawn, and I mounted the table, to the great delight of my fellow countrymen and countrywomen.
"Shall we allow our daughters and sons to become cannon fodder on the beaches of Iraq or in the trenches of Afghanistan? No!
"What shall we say when Europe goes to future wars and asks not the French Foreign Legion or British paratroopers to lead the charge, but the boys and girls of the Irish brigades? No!"
Here I lowered my voice, for effect. I had come to the heart of the matter. "Above all," I whispered, "we must not be distracted by the issue itself, but rather examine who is for the issue; and if the shysters who govern us are for the issue, then we must be steadfast in our opposition. Issues come and go. But the shysters are always out there, trying to tell us what to do.
"Well, we didn't take it from the British, and we didn't take it from the Roman church, and we're certainly not going to take it from the Europeans. Go tell that to the Chinese! Irish democracy is about people. If half the people vote Yes, and a half plus one vote No, then that's the answer and the winner takes all, and you can rub the losers' faces in their own little britches.
"That's democracy! Nor does it matter why we vote No.
"As Ben Dunne, a man of immense political intelligence might say: 'If you don't know, vote No!' As Podge and Rodge might say: 'If you couldn't give a feck, vote No!' As Dustin might say: 'If the cat put urine in your cornflakes, vote No!'
"Ireland," I declared in conclusion, "is a thorn at the heart of Europe. And those deluded nations who propose to bully us or toy with our democracy must now reckon with this deadly prick."
An enormous hangover left me fragile through the weekend, but I'll be off the drink for a few weeks now, please God.
