|
A sideways look at the moments of a great year  MALCOLM
ROGERS looks back at some of the events and people that made the news
in 2007.
A is for Ahern. It was a mixed year for Bertie —
he seems to have accepted he’ll be going soon and doesn’t
really give a toss — witness his defence of his huge pay rise by
saying in a fit of pique he doesn’t have “White House or Elysee
Palace at his disposal.” His popularity has dipped drastically —
it looks as if, after all, you can’t fool all of the people all
the time.
B is for Beef. It emerged in August that Japan was
boycotting British beef, including good Antrim steak. First Minister Ian
Paisley, now part of the Paisley-Provo alliance, was on the blower immediately,
pointing out that Norn Iron heffers were anything but British. It’s
hard to imagine the conversation between the bass-baritone from Ballymena
and the Japanese premier but presumably Big Ian said: “Thurrrr is
no such place as Northern Ireland. Nivurrr, nivurrrr, nivvvvvur, er, heard
of it. There’s only one Ireland, where all the good beef comes from,
to be sure, to be sure.”
C is for Cork GAA. They managed to lose three All-Ireland
titles three weekends in a row during September — the Senior football,
the minor title and the camogie title. The only Cork man to have done
worse than that was Michael Collins who managed to lose six counties in
one day.
C is also for Celtic Tiger everyday life — the
average Irish home now has 56 television channels; and one book.
D is for Derry Airport, high on the news agenda this
year. In January it had to close after a seal wandered on to a runway.
The same week the High Court forced the airport to reveal how much they
were paying Michael O’Leary for the privilege of having Ryanair
land there. From one slippery customer to the next.
E is for the Eurovision. Our singer resembled a refugee
from a Bunratty banquet (but sounded vastly worse), and the band looked
as if they were straight from the All Priests Holy Road Show. They came
last. The Brits have the right attitude to the Eurovision — they
know that nobody is going to vote for them, so they just send the crappiest,
trashiest outfit they can find performing on the Welsh pub circuit and
use the contest as a vehicle for Britain’s favourite DJ, Terry Wogan.
F is for FAI, who ended another dismal year for Irish
soccer by sacking Steve ‘Stan’ Staunton. Chief executive of
the FAI, John ‘John’ Delaney, had heralded Stan and Bobby
Robson as “a world-class management team” on their appointment
but in the end Delaney’s Donkeys became Delaney’s turkey.
G is for Green Party, who traded in principles for
perks. The key demands (M3 motorway, Shannon and US rendition flights,
corporate donations etc) were exchanged for a few vague promises from
Bertie on the environment and Mercs for John Gormley and Eamon Ryan. Anything
more radical than that belonged to some distant sandal-wearing past.
H is for Hats, and it’s hats off to Cavan man
Sean Baptist Brady who got a red hat from the Pope. The elevation of the
reserved Archbishop Brady in preference to the media-hungry Archbishop
Diarmuid Martin was something of a surprise. The Dublin cleric probably
felt miffed after having efficiently cleared up the mess left by the hapless
Archbishop Connell.
H is also for health service, and after a turbulent
year the Irish HSE is to undergo restructuring. There will be four classes.
First Class: Highest level of care, patients get all treatment and medication
required.
Business Class: Moderate level of care, patients visited regularly by
doctors.
Economy Class: Basic care provided, occasional visits from nursing assistants.
Uninsured Class: We did everything we could for them.
I is for IKEA and Ingemar. The creeping capitalism
of IKEA visited the North in 2007 when a branch was opened near Lisburn.
IKEA have largely been responsible for lifting the dreary gloom that was
such a charming integral feature of traditional Irish and British home
life before the ’80s, with design set largely in the George and
Mildred era.
IKEA’s lightness of touch was more than compensated for by the late
film director, Ingemar Bergman (died in 2007), who taught us all to re-appreciate
the necessity of misery for a well integrated and happy home life.
 J
is for James Bond. In a year when the Celtic Tiger was mauled on the soccer
and rugby fields, a further blow was added in the arts field. We lost
our ultimate talisman in the world of cinema — the Irish 007.
The fact that James Bond was an Irish bloke did wonders for our national
pride. The unlikely eventuality of a guy from Navan becoming a suave superspy
was a reminder of the old days when we were world beaters and not losers.
But that went as well and by the year’s end all we had was Anne
Enright as Man-Booker prize winner.
K is for John F Kennedy. During 2007 papers revealed
that he had an affair with a 19-year-old intern. She’d probably
asked him what she could do for her country.
L is for Literature and in a surprise result, Anne
Enright won the Man-Booker Prize, the second Irish novelist to scoop the
title in three years. Her book was a return to the tried-and-tested formula
‘how I grew up in Ireland covered in me da’s vomit’
which has served us so well over the last few decades. The somewhat austere
Ms Enright gets full marks for getting up the noses of the British literary
establishment — partly for her refusal to wear one of those black
Guinness gombeen hats (figuratively speaking) and for writing an article
called ‘Disliking the McCanns’.
M is for McLaren. Was English manager Steve McLaren
secretly working for Scotland? After all, the name McClaren has a distinctly
Celtic feel to it. At the end of the Croatia match did the England coach
receive a message saying: “Well done Agent McClaren. Your work is
now done. Return to base in Glasgow.”
But we should all be eternally grateful to Steve. Come the European finals,
we’ll only have to watch the Croatian WAGs and not the vastly more
irritating English ones.
N is for the North Pole. More ice broke off daily during
2007. The public were told to remain calm but to move a few miles inland.
Polar bears were told to opt for salad on the menu, in preference to seal.
O is for Minister of the Gaeltacht Eamon O Cuiv. The
list of TDs’ travelling expenses were revealed in 2007 and Minister
O Cuiv won — he drives some 6,000 miles a month, or 200 miles a
day. Is it possible that Mr O Cuiv is just going round in circles?
O is also for Obesity. Our national lardiness problem
continued apace with over 60 per cent of the population obese (but not
you, dear reader — you look fabulous!)
P is for Pat The Baker who died in 2007. He’s
now, sadly, brown bread.
Q is for God Save The Queen, sung in Croke Park, without
mishap. Indeed, the special atmosphere at Croke Park even made the rugby
anthem, Ireland's Call, sound good.
R is for Remote Control, invented by Robert Adler in
1956. Sadly, Mr Adler died in 2007 — he changed over to the other
side so to speak.
R is also for Ryan, Tony, the founder of Ryanair, who
also died in 2007. The saintly Tony assuredly went to Heaven, although
it was probably Luton-Heaven, with a three-hour bus drive to the Pearly
Gates from whichever cloud he landed on.
R is also for rugby and our lack of World Cup glory.
Rugby, they say, is played with no fear of head injuries; and indeed played
by people with no need of any fear of head injuries. And so it proved
with our hapless crowd of gobddaws, who were dumped out of the competition
without making the final stages.
S is for Shannon, which lost its Heathrow slots to
Belfast. People of all political persuasion (Fianna Fáilers, Indikinny’s
troops, leaderless Labourites alike) were united in their view that Belfast,
being a foreign city, should not under any circumstances receive the state
airline’s beneficence. Then the penny dropped — Aer Lingus
is a privatised company and, shock horror, is likely to act like a privatised
company. Belfast’s status as to whether it is a foreign or Irish
city proved a lot harder for people in the South to grapple with.
T is for Tony, who finally vacated 10 Downing Street.
Gordon took over and has more or less made a hames of it ever since. Maybe
it was true all along — GB, the premier of GB, feared the job as
much as he craved it.
 U
is for U2, and the good news is that Bono and the lads are still making
loads of spondoolies and not paying too much tax — mainly by moving
their multi-million operation to Amsterdam. Concert promoter Jim Aitken
(who has never called a spade a delving instrument in his life) greatly
displeased the combo, currently doing their best to save the world, by
saying: “U2 are arch capitalists... I believe the ultimate charity
donation is to pay taxes in the country where you live.” Ooooerrr,
missus.
V is for Vacuum Cleaner which celebrated its 100th
anniversary in 2007. The only thing that’s sucked longer is the
Northern Ireland soccer team, formed the same year.
V is also for vitamin supplements. Researchers found
that they may actually shorten life. The public were urged to scratch
their heads.
V is also for Viagara, manufactured in Ringaskiddy.
It was found during the year that Viagara could be used by hill walkers
and climbers to provide more oxygen. And presumably give them somewhere
to hang their bobble hats. A Ringaskiddy spokesman said: “This could
be huge.”
W is for Wall, namely the Peaceline in Belfast. Despite
all the cuddly talk about peace and a bright new future, the Northern
Ireland Office took a more pragmatic view of the peace process. They built
Belfast’s Peace Wall a bit higher. Specifically, a 25ft-high section
was built in the middle of the playground of Belfast’s only integrated
primary school.
In other parts, moats with crocodiles were contemplated.
X is the bane of the list-writer’s life, but
fortunately we’ve got a cracker this year. A Xmas cracker if you
like. Because this year is the 20th anniversary of probably the greatest
secular Xmas song ever written — A Fairytale Of New York.
The song, about a quarrelling pair of Irish immigrants in the Big Apple,
is suffused with gritty realism. It’s a perfect seasonal item, packed
with regret, drink and optimism — and has the added bonus of being
unlikely to be taken over by the Disney Corporation.
In the best tradition of Xmas songs (like I’m Dreaming Of A White
Christmas) Fairytale was co-written by a Jewish person, Jem Finer of the
Pogues. But there was never any real suggestion that the song should begin”
“It was Yom Kippur, in the drunk tank...”
Y is for Yeltzin. Sadly, Boris died in 2007. You have
to admire someone who played the spoons on the head of the president of
Kurdistan. That’s performance art, not politics. Boris is also fondly
remembered for standing up Taoiseach Albert Reynolds at Shannon Airport
due to being hammered and sickle.
Z is for Zealous Guys, who seem to have disappeared
from Ireland this year. Those sworn enemies, Martin McGuinness and Ian
Paisley get on so well leading Norn Iron that they’ve been dubbed
the Chuckle Brothers. Continuing to put the fun back into fundamentalism,
the Rev Paisley even went as far as helping the very Catholic Dana Rosemary
Scallon to launch her book, All Kinds Of Everything. It seems that all
kinds of bigotry have vanished from some of Ireland’s map. |
