My time of the month

I have an aversion to politics. Irish politics in particular, but, as an equal opportunities curmudgeon, I throw my arms around the world and extend my grumpy apathy across all borders.

I’m alluding in particular to the forthcoming election in the USA and all the Decision Time den den dehhhhhhh palaver that goes with it. Now I understand that in global terms the Yanks are a big cheese, so we should throw more than a casual eye across what they’re getting up to. In the case of Dubya, it almost behoves us to do so because in Blue Peter terms, he routinely does a lot of things where someone really should be on hand to intone that “you might need an adult to help with this part”.

Anyway, even someone like me with zero interest in governmental chicanery etc. can tell he’s a simpering loon and the staggering folly of his re-election totally killed off the nascent interest in global politics that I never actually had in the first place. To quote the great one himself, it’s a case of vote for me once, shame on you, vote for me twice, well, um….

So here I am steadfastly trying to block out the whole charade but even someone as schooled in the arts of avoidance as me (namely, avoidance of dirty dishes, programmes with Russell Brand in them and doting parents with crusty-faced children who think it’d be lovely to have them give you a wee kiss) can’t quite blank it out. It’s everywhere. Even though you turn off/turn over every TV and radio that mentions it, some details still filter down and worm in through the tiny hairline cracks my consciousness leaves open for storing random useless facts. (Such as, in the film Scarface, the word ‘fuck’ is said on average 1.22 times per minute).

This insidious subliminal seepage is, in fact, political propaganda via a cunning form of osmosis. Just have a look at all this mad stuff I know about the US election without ever wanting to know any of it. By the way, any similarity between this and what’s actually happening, is entirely accidental:

Right, let’s start with Sarah Palin. Now she was a running mate selection “right out of left field.” To most Irish people, this means she came out of the rhubarb patch, as opposed to the right field where we keep the cows, but apparently, she was something of a surprise. Like holy cow, where did she come from? Well, from a left field in Alaska, I'll wager.
Beyond there, all I know is that her daughter (harlot! **spits**) is pregnant but – phew! – intends to marry to wash away her iniquity, she has a pet pit-bull that wears lipstick (bizarre to say the least), sacked her sister for not sacking her brother-in-law, has some policies that are, guess what, “right out of left field”, and yes, I definitely would given half a chance.

John McCain’s campaign, meanwhile seems to have stolen the logo for McCain’s oven chips but it’s unlikely the poor divil ever cooks them in an overhead oven because he spent ages strung up as a POW in Vietnam and now can’t raise his arms beyond a certain point. Other tasks now beyond John include Mexican waving, although I doubt it’d form an integral part of his diplomatic relations with the South Americans, along with traffic signalling and effective stretching and yawning in the mornings, after a good night’s sleep after a hard day’s work running the USA.
He’s also a bit older than you might expect. Some say he’s 167 years old. Some say he's a hobbit. Who can tell?

Barack Obama, with a name like his, just has to have Irish ancestry in there somewhere and indeed and he does so he does to be sure. “Sure amn’t I made of the black stuff?” he is often heard to remark at Feiseanna Ceoil, with a gamey twinkle in his eye.
I can never quite remember which party he actually belongs to, he’s either with the Autocrats, the Diplomats, the Rubicons, the Lexicons or the Laundromats, but party affiliations are not what’s important here. His ability to clinch votes in the vital swinger states, where sexual infidelity is prized above all else, will be what decides this election. Somebody called him a terrorist as well I think, but they may have been confusing him with Bush. In fact, maybe it was Bush himself, being confused. By himself.

Barack has a running mate too but he’s so anonymous that not even weeks of blanket coverage on SKY news can make me remember his name or anything about him. Oh hang on, it’s Joe Ninety or something isn’t it?

Ach, the sooner it's all over the better.