Oh, Mickey!

Oh, why do you kayp all your stars in from your studio on Mick Collins' Avenue. You'll pass Aidan's secondary school and DCU on your left. You'll also pass two auld ones with the Evening Herald on Thursdays. Wouldn't that have to be the way? Murphy's Law in motion and that other law about those fuckin' electrons getting onto buses. Then there's six by ten to the twenty-three. Or, as they might say on the other side of the Atlantic, to the root twenty-three. I'm not even sure if that's what they say, but it's slightly different. I'm just trying to increase the readability of this thing. More universal, more accepting, more open, more understanding, more considerate, more MICKEY.

News just in: old civil servants are dying by the minute. For an update, here's some boring snob who has a Trinners degree in law, or something, and seems to know what's going on.
-Yes, thank you, Anne. I actually studied in UCD but at this moment that's hardly relevant. Although, speaking of my degree days, if Maria is watching I wonder if she'd give me a call. I haven't seen you in ages, darling...
-Oh, I'm sorry, we're out of time for that report. It's a pity that he fucked up his debut here at RTÉ, but maybe he's lucky and Maria is watching. Maria, if you are indeed watching, that guy's mobile number will be displayed at the end of this bulletin.

Cigarettes and chocolate milk. Coffee and sitting around listening to Chris Rea. I seem pretty happy sitting around on me arse doing fuck all. Exercising little or no brain bits. Perfectly happy being a nothing really. Somehow I'm not drawn to do anything. I'm not reading anything because I didn't want to get into some fiction or other that would distract attention from academic writings- that I'm also not reading. Yay. Lose all around.

Next we'll have news from around the country from our regional reporters.
Mary (North-West Cavan Correspondant)
-Nothing really to report today. It's all been rather quiet. I hear Mrs. Kavanagh is pregnant, though. Apart from that, it's all mickey.

Joe (South-East Tipperary)
-There was great craic agus spraoi to be had last night in John Johnston's bar in the annual floor-stomping barnyard dancing competition. The judges are still trying to decide on the winner. They've been in the back-room of the bar for thirteen straight hours. We're all here waiting anxiously on the judgement. (Ye havin' a pint, Joe?!) As you can see, it's tense here. Ay, I will. Joe, RTÉ News, Johnston's Bar.

-We've now realised that absolutely nobody is watching this news broadcast anymore. By our figures, everybody is now watching the Papal episode of Ten Years Younger on TV3. I hope your pancreas gets exploded by the devil.

-And...Cut. Good job, Anne. You really told those viewers what you thought. I know we're the national broadcaster thing and all, but something needed to be said.

-Yeah, thanks, Jerry. You going down pub?

-No, I'm an alcoholic. I thought I told you before. Obviously not. Oh well. There's some scandal for you. I haven't had a drink in eight months. I'm doing it for the kids. They're smart for their age. The little bollixes used to hide me Jemmie bottles when I really needed them. But, then I found their secret hiding place. This will give you a laugh. They used hide it under the dog!

-Okay, Jerry. Very good. You're not coming then. I'll have to ask Ryan. Shit.

And so, the individual battles (battle coke) raged on within the walls of RTÉ, Donnybrock, Dublin Four. Eventually through Americanisation (or Americanization as it would be when the process was complete), national public broadcasting came straight in to Irish homes from California. Howth Road would be renamed Sunset Boulevard. The North Circular Road would be renamed CBS Avenue. The army barracks around the city of Dublin would be renamed George Clooney Barracks (formerly McKee Barracks), Mary-Kate & Ashley Barracks (formerly Cathal Brugha Barracks) and Ronald McDonald Barracks (formerly Collins Barracks). Ronald McDonald Barracks would later house artefacts connected with an amazing archaeological find on the site of the McDonalds outlet on Hollywood Row (formerly Phisboro Road).

At that moment, if it is reached, it is believed that the spirit of deValera will rise from the Ronald Reagan Memorial Cemetery (formerly Glasnevin Cemetery) and unleash a reign of terror not unlike that of Robespierre. For it is written, in the Book of Sorrow, "Not Een May Rhepablic".

This belief is widely critiqued by, pretty much, everybody apart from a few auld Fianna Fáil fellas in west Clare. They occasionally get the train up to Dublin (which would soon be renamed New Tulsa) and rally outside Leinster House. Nobody takes any notice. There's only four of them. The Gardaí don't even bother that they don't have a permit to do what they're doing. It was believed that they'd die there, at the gates. They would eventually die in Stoneybatter after getting lost coming out of Ronald McDonald Barracks to see the displays.

So, alas, the City Borough of New Tulsa suffered the same fate that other European cities did. Paris was no more by 2024. Dusseldorf was Mississippi by 2053. The list goes on and on. The slow erosion of Europe by US influence would be complete by 2075. Then the wars began. But that's for another night, kids. Off to bed with you. Sleep well.