After a fine feed of Tipperary Blue Organic Cheese; latter served thickly on fresh hot crusty bread, and washed down with half a bottle of a desert wine, with the unpronounceable name of Beerenauslese, I lay back in the armchair and switched on RTE1.
Last time we saw Mr Enda Kenny live in Thurles was on May 25th 2012.
Mr Leo Varadkar and Mr Simon Coveney were arguing verbally on their princely right to become the next Fine Gael leader and Taoiseach (Prime Minister), following Enda Kenny’s abdication, (or was it abnegation. I always mix these two words up, but I know one of them means ‘rejection’).
Was my perception-altering effect brought on by the fact that I had spent time as a guest of the HSE recently? Could it have been the cheese? Could I be one of the 400,000 Irish water drinkers being targeted by trihalomethane toxins?
Either or, suddenly I found myself sitting in the forum area of Dáil Éireann. The TD’s surrounding me had all metamorphosed into organs of the body, each one arguing on their right to be the one to take control of all the other body parts.
“I should be in command,” said the Brain, “Because I am the body’s microprocessor, the central processing unit (CPU) that run the body’s various systems. To be honest without me, you organs would all be useless.”
“No, I should be in charge,” said the Blood, “I circulate oxygen all through the pulmonary arteries and veins of the body, and so without me body organs do not survive”
“I should be in charge,” said the Stomach,“Three times each day I process the food that give all of you organs your necessary energy.”
“No, I should be in charge,” said the Legs, “Because I carry the body organs wherever they needs to go.”
“I should be in charge,” said the Eyes angrily, “Without me the organs of the body would be unable to observe and see exactly where they are going.”
“You are all incorrect,” said the Rectum, “Without me taking responsibility for waste disposal, none of you would survive for long.”
The other body parts began to snort and hoot with laughter, following this claim made by the Rectum, so now, feeling intimidated, insulted and partially terrorised he decided to prove a point and shut down tight his normal daily cleansing operations.
Within hours the Brain had developed a terrible headache; the Stomach became bloated; the Legs got weak; the Eyes became itchy and began to water, and finally the Blood developed mild septic shock.
Eventually, following an emergency Body Organ Cabinet meeting of all the organs concerned, it was decided that in the interest of self preservation the Rectum should be elected to the post of Fine Gael leader and Taoiseach.
Announcing this decision Fine Gael’s party whip stated that even though the other organs do most of the work, the asshole should always be the one placed in command, regardless.
“Goal”, my brother screamed, lifting me bolt upright in my armchair. This, ‘person born of parents not married to each other’, (if you know what I mean), had deliberately changed the TV channel across to Sky Sports as I dozed, and Liverpool’s Sadio Mané had put one in the net, past Southampton.
No lads, in all seriousness, I’ll have to give up that Tipperary Blue Organic Cheese, hot bread and Beerenauslese desert wine, and start going to bed earlier. I am convinced that all this new rich foreign food, being imported weekly into Thurles by Aldi, and Lidl is now seriously affecting the neural circuits of my brain; adding to these perception-altering effects.
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