God's butt! It's just like was said there back before. Yous couldn't invent it But it's the gospel truth. Dev's back right enough. An' every bushy tail bastard on the take is goin' t' need get down his hole......fast! An' just like what was said, didn't it all kick off like a hoof in th' jellies soon as the Chief got t' hear. It all comes fron The Tall Talkin' Man; the one they calls The Silver Tongue O' Tralee. He got it freom some nob he knows whose thick wi' a fancy piece o' goods what works in the back office over at The Bat Cave. She said the rocks blew when that snivellin' streak o' shite that call himself Principal Press Officer Eagan breezes in t' tell the Chief. She said yous could o' heard the charges on th' other side o' the planet.Seems they was all up to the wall earwiggin' wi the glass. Not that they'd be needin' that mind with fag paper partitions them cheepskate gagheads at the Public Works puts up. The Mammy has one done when she got the corporation flat, an' she always said you could hear the rats cockin' their legs through them walls. It's what they calls an open society.

Eagan, yous clod hoppin' buck eejit! Can you not learn t' open the door before you comes through it?

Heavy night Chief?

I was down at Pat Scully's till four o' this mornin' f' Feeney's quittin' wake. I've a head on me bumpin' the like o' the cart on the cobbles.

Grand craic, Chief?

Things was fine till the Archbishop o' Dublin goes an' sticks his hand up the President's skirt. Yous know what she's like about that kind o' thing. All cute an' cooin'; but give her a goose an' she's up fo' the Third World War. God's buckin' belltower that woman could benefit from a good hosin' down. Mind it'll take King Kong's older brother t' do it.

Feeney OK Chief? About his leaving, I mean.

How the buckin' hell do I know. The bastard wasn't there. Remember we're not tellin him he's got the bullet till this mornin' Which if I recall, Principal Press Officer Eagan, is your first job before your fruit juice an' continentai breakfast.

Ah...Yes. Now you mention it I do recall, Chief. But....er....I rather think we may need to reallocate our current management priorities.

Eagan, yous buck eejit. Speak plain language will yous.

Have you seen the press this morning, Chief?

Press? What press!? What the buck yous bletherin' about? No! I have not seen the press. In case it has escaped your notice, that's what I employs you fo'. I've enough to be doin' tryin' t' keep a modern European democracy from pissin' all over its own boots without I go gawpin' at gossip from every garrulous gobshyte that puts pen t' paper.

It's bad Chief.

Bad?..... How bad?

About as bad as it gets. It's those gormless thaves over at Frankie's again. But they've really done now. You're not going to like this, Chief. No sireeeeeeee. Not one little bit. Remeber the last time , when you got up that scam to get them to fit out a version of Sheergar and empty the twenty four mill from the bank job up North on the critter in the two thirty at Leopardstown?....And because the boss eyed loons didn't know one end of a horse from the other they lifted some lame mare off a milk cart, and the dumb nag pulled up halfway for a slash and came in on the night train?.....And you said that if there were any more cock ups at the Freak Shop, they'd be heading for the fastest downsize since Pharaoh's army took an unscheduled dip?......

Yes, Eagan. I do remember. I also remember that I told you never to mention that again.

Well it's worse, Chief. Yes sireeeeeeee. Sooooooooo much worse.

Eagan, shut yer smartarse college gob, yous buck eejit lig an' give me a screw o' them papers here. Do I have t' do everythin' myself. It's gettin so's a man can't fart in his own front room without he's got t' get up an' waft th' drapes himself. I've a nation t' lead here, mister. A country t' run.....not go wastin' an age gawpin drivel.......' Spanish paella......Frank N Stein Institute........reproduced.......Eamon De Val................GOD'S BUCKIN' DONKEY'S BUCKIN' BARE BUTT!!!!!! I'LL HAVE THEIR BUCKIN' BALLS IN THE TOASTER FO' THIS ONE AN' NO CODDIN'!!!!!

Easy Chief. Shall I fetch the pills?

BUCK TH' BUCKIN' PILLS!... DEV!? .....Back here!?......Jeeeze it's took us thirty years since he popped his clogs t' get the place shipshape fo' the twenty first century. Th' buckin' last thing we needs now is th' prehistoric ghoul back an ' actin' like he was th' Pope. Where th' buckin' hell is he now?

First we heard, Chief, he was well away down for morning mass at St Paddy's.

St Paddy's? Eagan if that bastard gets t' wanderin around an' gets seen, it's us that's goin' t' be well away. Away down the bottomless well o' St Shite! Get me Security on the blower.

Thought of that already, Chief. I've the Squad Man waiting on the cordless right now.

Give it me here. Murphy?....... This is the Chief. What th' buckin' brass cock's alive down there?

It's Dev right enough, Chief. An' he's a real dander on him. Got round t' St Paddy's an' found the place was shut years ago f' want o' punters an' has since reopened as The Pink Shamrock Gay Advice Centre. Seems some limp wrist lig on th' desk tried t' sell him a pair o' kinky lycras. Jeeeeze.....Dam near blew his trilby over th' dark side o' the moon! Advice Centre!? Yous couldn't print th' buckin' advice Dev give the bastards at that Advice Centre. Hey, next he drops into th' Pookies fo' a leak an clocked th' Ratsack Dispenser that's in all o' them these days. Said it was bad enough folks were usin' Johnnies in Catholic Ireland, but this was in th' buckin' Cathedral lavvie! 'Course he don't know yet its yous gettin' a rake off fo' party funds fo' them machines. Not t' mention the big bung t' th' Fianna Fail Number Two Social Affairs Account, Cayman Islands, fo' keepin' stum over the Director o' Youth Overseas Development an' them two black boys he was helpin' develop. An' speakin' of affairs, is the Minister fo' Women's Affairs still in that flat yous bought with the funds from .......

Yes.......Ahem.....Yes .. Thank you Murphy.I think we all have the grasp o' the guts o' that particular chicken. When this blows over, remind me to have a word about the confidentiality castration clause in the new data protection bill I'm after introducin'.In the meantime, where the sweet steamin' shite is De Valera? You've t' bring him in , man, like yesterday. I've just thught of a good use fo' the ol' rope trap at Kilmainham Jail that's bin idle so long.

Word is Chief he's out an' lookin' t' make changes.Says yous has depraved the decent people of Ireland. He's got up a posse o' gunmen out o' work since the Provos got stood down They knew about  them dumps we kept out o' th' frame from Canada Jack an' his snoopers an' now they's all tooled up. AKs. 3.8s an' more ammo than Fort Laramie. Word is they've took over the Post Office an' are holed up there now.I got told b' some ol' biddy of a spinster f' Bray she was about quein' fo her Disability when Dev an' his Bhoys rock up an' start spreadin' lead. First off Dev reads this poem from that fancy gobshyte, Billy Yeats, about th' betrayal an' corruptin' o' the fine folk of Ireland. Then he looses off a magazine into a poster advertisin' benefits f' single mothers. Then they barricade the place. But no probs, Chief. We're on top o' this one 'cause Eagan's took charge and got out th' militia. There's a ring o' steel round the place. We're just waitin' on th' word t' go in.

Eagan?.........In charge?........Eagan w....w....what in the name o' God's dog's bollocks do you think yous is doin'? Eagan, please......Pleeeeeeeeeease tell me you have not taken command of the Armed Forces of the Irish Republic?

Well Chief. You were a tad under the weather when this thing broke. And you have always been saying I should use my brains. So I thought I'd give you a sampler of what I can do when I've charge of the shop myself. You see I got to thinking we've to grasp this nettle before it grows into a mountainous hole of conflagration.

Eh?......

That's when I started really focussing my brainpower on this problem. Believe me, Chief, you are going to thank me for this. Yes sireeeeeeee.

Frankly, I doubt it. But go on. Surprise me.

You see I sussed that the one thind we don't want here is a bad press. Some nosey blabbermouth twigging what's going down and shooting his gob. Looks bad when you've elections and that kind of donkey shit to deal with. That's why I figured we had to stamp on this one in secret. Dealing with these jokers I know we have to use disguise and surprise. Crafty eh? Keep the thing under wraps so there's no panic. How do we do that?

Shagged if I know Eagan. But it had better be buckin' good.

Good? I'll be looking to make Deputy on the back of this one, Chief. And here's the stonker. Remember we had that scam going down a while back to get a hand out from the nobs in Brussels to site the Disney Theme Park here? Help cure unemployment and all that kind of blarney. And the thing never got built, but you said to trouser the loot and keep our gobs shut? And then you said it was a pity to be wasting all those costumes and we should find a use for them? Well I just did! I've ordered the militia kitted up disguised so their own mothers couldn't tell which cheek farts first.They're outside the Post Office now, waiting to pounce. Surprise? Sure those ligs in there will never know what's hit them. And thanks to my quick thinking neither will any bastard else. Perfect! Disguise and surprise! It's at the heart of all modern urban disorder management containment strategy.

Eagan, did you not forget the Bouncy Castle?

Dam!

Eagan. Let me just rehearse this one. Just so's I'm certain I heard what I think I've heard......... We have a security alert involving armed insurrection on the streets of a European capital?

Too right we do, Chief.

The world's press will be watchin' and our international partners shocked and alarmed?

Right on. Chief.

The freedom of the Irish Republic its citizens and its future in mortal jeopardy from the forces of demogogic reaction?

Bull's eye, Chieftain.

But no worries.....It's sorted.......We got th' bastards surrounded B' TH' BUCKIN' CAST O' MARY POPPINS!!!?

Er....Something like that, Chief.

Eagan, bend over here, Lovely Boy, so's I can whisper in yous ear. On account o' there's somethin' what's botherin' me an' we news management professionals need t' keep secuirty zipped up tight. You get my drift?

I'm right with you on this one, Chief. Good to hear you getting the patter.

Grand. Just grand. Now Eagan, yous is an educated fellow, right?

Right Chief.

Trinity man, I'm told.

Double first, Chief.

Grand. Grand pedigree fo' a high flyer. Now this disguise an' surprise malarky sounds a great notion. But there's still somethin' I can't f' the life o' me fathom. Will yous help an ol' stager here.

Anything. Say the word, Chief

Yous see, if yous have a three ton twenty two pounder seige ordinance Howitzer rolled down O'Connell Street in the rush b'a platoon o' freckled faced flat foot Kerry farm boys got up as buckin' Snow White an' th' buckin' Seven Dwarfs........Do yous not think some bastard might notice?!!

You've a point there, Chief. You think of everything.

Right, Eagan. Ido.I do. An' that's 'cause I has to. On account of I'm soft enough in th' head t' be employin' a do lally lig f' my Press Officer what's cleared the space between his ears fo' keepin' goldfish b' havin' his brains surgically removed an' secreted up th' crack of his arse!! 

Not good, eh Chief.

No! Not good you barmy tosser!!! Now Eagan, I'm away on th' Confidential Blower t' The President, the Guardian of the Constitution of the Republic. Brief her on why it is the place is crawlin' wi' heavily armed versions o' Cartoon Capers. Give her some skitter th' stoat's in the sack an' we 's a grip on things here an' not t' get puttin' her tits through the mangle over this. Like any woman, things go off centre an' first off she's shakin' her powder on the nearest available male. Me. Now whilest I'm on this call yous is goin' t' get this hideous shitstorm sorted. Fo' if it's not b' the time I' after givin' Sieve the Banshee my best assurances, believe me Principal Press Officer Eagan, Double First Trinity an' temporary Commander in Chief o' the Armed Forces o' the Irish Republic, IT'S GOIN'T' TAKE TEN STRONG SQUADDIES TWO WEEKS T' WIPE YOUS OFF O' TH' BUCKIN' CEILIN'!!!

Jeeeeze, Chief. I'm real sorry. And before you get on to the President, there's something you need to know.....

Know? Eagan?

It's well..er... when I was ordering out the militia, I got to thinking I should make sure the less reliable of us don't sprout where water should't spout, as you would say.Chief.

Meanin'?

Er..... Meaning that I have arranged for some persons to have the benefit of Protective Custody..........

What's that noise?

It's the radio on in the back room, Chief.

THIS IS THE OVERSEAS SERVICE OF THE BBC. WE INTERRUPT OUR BROADCAST TO BROADCAST A BROADCAST DIFFERENT FROM OUR USUAL BROADCAST BUT WHAT WE NEED TO BROADCAST. WE ARE GETTING NEW FROM IRELAND THAT THE PRESIDENT OF THE IRISH REPUBLIC HAS BEEN ARRESTED...... BY DONALD DUCK.

That's when the Chief lost it. God's arse in aspic! Went apeshit an' clatters Eagan so buckin' hard th' thaveless spalpeen went head first down th' laundry chute. Chief's so mad now he's down th' stairs fast as a fivelegged ferret in time t' collar th' poor dumb bastard at th' other end. Then he hands out th' kind o' thrashin' the Christian Brothers would have bin proud of. Kicks th' eejit lig's carcass th length an' breadth o' Clancy Street. Just like what was said' Yous couldn't invent it. 'Course it don't stop there. It was on RTE just now that the Taoiseach has been taken to a sanatorium  t' recuperate from an undisclosed condition. His Deputy's took over an' he's told the Armed Services of the Irish Republic, currently impersonatin' Micky, Goofy an' the rest o' Disneytime t' leave over actin' th' goat an' end th' stand off. That won't be easy. Dev's delivered a Proclaimation from the steps o' the Post Office callin' on the Gael t' rise against Saxon secular subversion.Protestantism, unnatural practices an' Pot noodles. We're all waitin' on who blinks first. All the press are there an' they says its the lead news everywhere. Seems the whole world an' his wife is gawpin t' see which way Irelan's goin'; forwards;or back?It don't help none it bein' Easter either. Folks has long memories in this place. Mind the Frank N Stein Institute is well closed up now, an' not a moment too soon accordin' to most. There's plenty sayin' there's no tellin' what the sneaky boffins have bin hatchin' behind everyone's back. There's this feller The Garsun O'Gara f' Gavan. One o' the Talkin' Men they calls the Gran' Golden Gob o' The Green. He's says he's got it from a man on the inside. The Deputy thought things could't get no worse. Mind, some dimwit farmboy could have told him the moment yous think that, God's odds on they do! 'Cause that's when he gets a bell from a public call box down a place called th' Mouth o' Flowers. Some pumped up apache on firewater swearin black's white he's comin' down t' sort out Dev himself. Personal like. Name o' Collins........Mike Collins.......

Listen; yer man's away now. Time's astride a boltin' stallion an' Herself's soonest back f' Cullens. Isn't she a woman wi' an' arm thick as a mule's rump an' if this house isn't like the Palace o' Panshine b' the time she stamps the place, yous'll be offerin' votives t' St Serveyousrightyousbastard : patron o' them wi' the savvy o' the butcher's goose, fo' the repose o' my soul. Meantime when Winter pulls off his silver cloak an' pulls on the green jacket o' Spring, we'll meet an' talk more.

Slainte!