LONDON OLYMPICS : Galway Whooker Penetrates Olympic Security Getting Head Onboard

 international | arts and media | other press  Friday May 18, 2012 06:33 by BrianClarkeNUJ - AllVoices 

Joyce Country Disgrace O'Malley

“The hills are feckin alive.” Sings Richard “Very nice Dickie, could've used you when the wind dropped last night. Olive had the boat bobbin at anchor last night after the storm. Poor woman stretched, jib ripped, boom bent and a bilge full of engine oil. Still happy to be among our own kind again but to get to London for the Thames Olympic protest we must press on to Somalia.

LONDON HUMAN RIGHTS BRITISH OCCUPIED IRELAND

“The hills are feckin alive.” Sings Richard “Very nice Dickie, could've used you when the wind dropped last night. Olive had the boat bobbin at anchor last night after the storm. Poor woman stretched, jib ripped, boom bent and a bilge full of engine oil. Still happy to be among our own kind again but to get to London for the Thames Olympic protest we must press on to Somalia. We'll be movin around a bit, it would help if you spoke Urdu as we pass India on the way and we've got to get a Somali class in later, to understand what them pirates are on about. Maybe I’m losing my sanity but I can’t stand being around people too long anymore. I find it confusing, what with half the time I don’t know if I’m in Manila or Ceylon or Goa or bloody Mogadishu. Mind you writing addles my brain especially this rubbish, that’s why.

Manila is where I met Olive and where she is from. It was mostly our base but we often went over to Macau, Hong Kong and Jakarta where we did a bit of business. If Manila got too hectic we would ramble over to Langkawi. We've been lucky this trip so far, what with the monsoons and no typhoons, Colombo coming up on the right was always good for a few laughs. I've forgotten who the Yanks were bombing last time I was there. Basically Britain still wants whites only in a lot of these places but they don't have the clout anymore and the Yanks have taken over from them. “It’s a bloody mess." Richard says.”There’s a lot of them shouldn’t be allowed to breed at all. If you ask me some of them should be castrated or shot.” You've got to be joking Richard, its their bloody country you know.” I tell him. "There you go with your Irish republican stuff again." he complains." Now Richard you wouldn't want your wife to hear you talking like that, would you/" That shuts him up for a while. Tell you what why don't you let the women make a nice sandwich for you between them. Pui told me she wanted to study medicine. ‘Why not?’ I asked. "I no good. I very bad stupid girl." "Some attitude!" I said. "Just because you wore a veil in Jakarta and like sex, doesn’t mean you can’t be a doctor."

So the time has finally come to up anchor and rejoin the western world again. These distractions and side-trips are all very well but life and times are moving on and we have to go for it. For the immediate future anyway. So we are heading to Somalia but a week of Olive has left me knackered. She can’t get enough and she always wants to play with it some more, after she’s drained me dry. What does she think I am ? a machine ?. I’m a bit long in the tooth for all that nonsense and she's getting on my nerves rabbiting on about reality shows.She finally fell asleep and I was back to Pui's arms. She forgave me as usual and said no more about it after I pumped her bilge out. Next thing I hear Richard in the bridge, shouting down the phone at somebody. Sounds like he’s having a bit of trouble with his bank. He’s pissed off because they put him on hold for 30 minutes when he called the wrong number in Bangladesh and then he gets into an argument with somebody in Mumbai, who transfers him to Goa, who serenade him with the Sound of Music. Eventually he puts the phone to his arse and lets rip a colossal fart.

“Yes but not right now, Pui I think I’ll go and get Olive to help you out, besides I want to give you both a shagging." Talk about feckin strength and femininity! These bloody women are insatiable, I don’t mind too much but they have to help me out and give me a breather now and then while I watch. Which reminds me of my first sandwich in my misspent youth, when the lads and I went over to Dublin for a dirty weekend. We usually took to the races too. One time we had been on the piss all day and we took a group of young wans back to the Shelbourne There was the park outside and I ended up under some bushes, with a couple of women from Galway called Maureen and Cathleen, where my friends stumbled across us later as we all had a great laugh. We were also gripped by Bono and his band, who were just making a name for themselves. It wasn't just his music, he had dedicated himself to relieving world suffering.

When we heard he was giving all his money away to Africa, we were touched. Course he knew a lot of politicians and he could handle the media. But now I hear the faint sound of coconut shells? Can it be St. Bozo riding back from Rome with bottles of Holy Water and a hard drive of pardons with dispensations from his mate the Pope? But wasn't he in Washington with his pal Bill Gates of Microsoft a few days ago, discussing tax free donations. Can their advisers be trusted? What if Bill and Bono are targeted by unscrupulous opportunists? Of course what they really need is someone reliable like me to ensure their money goes to the right people. I’ve had a bit of business experience including a few non-profit operations. So if you’re listening Bono and Bill feel free to contact me. I'll take all your money problems off your hands.

Suddenly, as my mind drifts I am back on one of those old tea clippers, those big beggars with sails as big as Croke Park, with the wind from the stern quarter.Every stitch of canvas is up, ropes and spars. How did they do it you may ask? How did they make their way through so much rope, wood and cordage? Here is a few reference points: 1, bowsprit; 2, bobstays, three pairs; 3, spritsail-gaffs, projectinig at each side of the bowsprit- the ropes at the extremities are jib-guys and flying jib-guys; 4, jib-boom; 5, martingale-stay, and below it the flying-jib martingale; 6, back-ropes; 7, flying jib-boom; 8, fore-stay, flying jib-stay and halyards; 9, fore-top-gallant-stay, jib-stay and halyards; 10, two fore-topmast-stays and fore-topmast staysail halyards; 11, the foretop bowlines, stopped into the top and two fore-stays; 12, two fore-tacks; 13, fore-truck; 14, fore-royal mast, yard and lift; 15, top-gallant mast, yard and lift; 16, fore-top mast, topsail-yard, lift and reef-tackle; 17, foretop, fore-lift, and topsail-sheet; 18, foremast and fore-shrouds, nine-pairs; 19, fore-sheets; 20, fore-gaff; 21, fore-topmast backstays and topsail tye; 22, top-gallant backstays; 23, fore-braces and main-stay; 24, fore-topgallant braces and main-topgallant stay; 25, standing parts, or fore topsail-braces, and main topmast-stays; 26, hauling parts of fore-topsail-braces and main-top-bowlines; 27, fore parts of fore-braces; 28, mainstays; 29, main-tacks; 30, main-truck; 31, main-braces; 32, mizzen-stay and mizzen-braces; 33, main-topgallant braces and mizzen-topgallant-braces; 34, standing parts of main topsail braces and mizzen topmast stay; 35, mizzen topsail braces; 36, hauling parts of main-topsail-braces, mizzen-top-bowlines and cross-jack braces; 37, main-braces and mizzen stay; 38, standing part of peak halyards; 39, vangs, similar on each gaff; 40, ensign staff; 41, spanker-book; 42, quarter-boat’s davits; 43, one of the davit topping-lifts and wind-sail; 44, main

With Africa on the horizon shortly, its difficult to avoid thinking about it. Richard says there may be no better time to buy cheap beach front lots in Liberia or grass huts in the Congo. With Bono already on the job, Nigeria will become an earthly paradise, while the BBC do a piece on the first Zimbabwean female astronaut. Maybe I'm a bit cynical when it comes to Richard but I just can't help see Africa as a bottomless pit of gold, diamonds with brothers chopping each other up. They'll just buy more consumer crap and the place will be a garbage dump like England. Hey Bob, do you know why nightlight is so brilliant in Africa? It's because they haven't factories and power stations cluttering the place up you egomaniac. Bono better pack some Raybans with they 're fleet of Range Rovers waiting to take them to their air conditioned hotel rooms. Who's got the Ballygowan Spring Water? Help the local economy? So they can buy more BMWs and houses in Switzerland. Just because I'm cynical doesn't mean the world grinds to a halt. All you idealistic young people should just ignore me. My brain is addled from writing this.

Having said that, I normally don't have much time for politics but the Olympics in London and the dismantling of the Irish peace process by the British, has caused a temporary re-assessment by this Irishman. I feel sorry for my poor people in British Occupied Ireland, who are currently ruled by an un-elected Tory tyrant, who fancies himself as a bit of Ghengis Khan. Good old Ghengis Paterson all he and his fellow Tories want is another one of their nice little wars in Ireland. Intern without trial, torture a few Irish human rights activists in solitary confinement to make sure the natives remain restless, start the troubles all over again and then tidy up the map a bit later, while maybe grabbing a few more Irish assets for their pals. Besides the industrial-armaments-complex with plenty of brainwashed local cannon fodder and a war somewhere, every five years at least, is still the best business of Empire.

Basically they are creating another big bloody mess in Ireland, I could go on but what's the point, nobody listens and does anyone care about political prisoners of conscience in Ireland like Marian Price, tortured in daily agony in solitary confinement, without trial for more than a year now. Britain's human rights record is far worse than China ever was and do you remember all their racket about the Beijing Olympics and Tibet while their own censorship and treatment of Ireland is more subtle and sanitized, it is far more widespread but then that's why we are forced to go up the Thames to protest for the coming Olympics with a Galway Whooker even if people and her fellow sisters seem to have no heart or humanity left in them.Is there any nature left in people at all at all. Free Ireland and then Free Tibet is what I say! Things are bad when people have to come from the other side of the world to highlight all this. Are human rights totally ignored in Britain and Ireland now ?

Excuse me I must take break to lighten up a bit. Some people use drink, drugs or create their own bloody universe! Why not? like making something out of nothing! Like the Creator does. Some people like me enjoy plenty of sex, unlike these sadistic, blood thirsty, fox hunting Tories like the pervert Ghengis Paterson. Doesn't do anyone any harm does it ! Young John Lennon was right, make love not war but then they permanently censored him too, didn't they ? Like I said go forth and multiply for phuck sake! All these Asian foxes and sex are perfect for a Galway Whoorker in the South China Sea. Of course it doesn't always go smoothly. Sometimes I’ll write a paragraph and then I’ll look at it and ask myself, do I really want to write this crap? I keep telling people, I don’t give a toss but do I give a toss or don’t I? It’s an existential question I have to confront daily but I nevr seem to get used to it.

Anyway you can all go phuck yourselves, while ye are at it. I haven't asked ye for money? I don't litter the place with shite? No I only do it for my own amusement and right now I don't give a toss what ye think. Ye can read this stuff or piss off, it's all the same to me. If I start taking it too seriously, game is over anyway. Blow-jobs help a lot for inspiration though. Have I mentioned Olive's professionalism in that department? Give her a cock to suck on and she's as happy as dog with a bone for hours. She's down there right now as a matter of fact while I am banging away with one finger on the keyboard and she's keeping my creative juices flowing. . Talking of humdrum existence, ever heard of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull? Well you have now.

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London Olympics : Protesting Galway Whooker to Ram it Up the Thames

 international | rights and freedoms | opinion/analysis  Thursday May 17, 2012 10:14 by BrianClarkeNUJ - AllVoices 

Useta Luv Her

I was over on Richards’s boat for the first time last night. He had a some people for dinner who are not my sort, stockbrokers, bankers with their ugly loud mouthed wives. Right enough they know a few good tax fiddles but essentially they are boring bastards. I look at their wives and no wonder I want a different one every day just like I can't imagine having to drive a bus everyday again through rush hour?

LONDON HUMAN RIGHTS BRITISH OCCUPIED IRELAND

I was over on Richards’s boat for the first time last night. He had a some people for dinner who are not my sort, stockbrokers, bankers with their ugly loud mouthed wives. Right enough they know a few good tax fiddles but essentially they are boring bastards. I look at their wives and no wonder I want a different one every day just like I can't imagine having to drive a bus everyday again through rush hour? Feck that for a for a game of soldiers. I can’t even think about that sort of work without a shiver going down my spine. Imagine being a poor barsteward stuck in some factory or mucking around a building site in wellies? Not sure I would last long in an office either. I'm amazed more people don’t go to lunch and never come back. How do they all keep getting up in the morning or even stay in bed with them same wives? Must be hungry feckers to get them rambling into their bathrooms, to look at their soulless selves in the mirror every morning. So today's the day, as Richard's world bank officials wing their way to Washington to catch up on the latest tax fiddle.

Today I've decided to have all the sails hoisted with full of wind. I could feel that way myself as we cut loose from the stale hangover of last night's decadent dinner. I got an opportunity to drop the bombshell to Richard, about his proposed protest visit up the Thames to London for the Olympics. Besides right now I feel like I could happily sail off into another dimension. Maybe discover a whole new world on the way to London, devoid of all these selfish wankers in the extreme. Perhaps I’d soon be lonely I suppose but it beats hangin around growing stale and vegetating. On the way to London, we'll keep sailing around all these Indonesian islands and see what comes to mind along the way.

People regularly ask me about a sailing destination. Have you any idea where you are going Bernie, I'm asked? WelI i give them an auld grin but to tell the truth I haven’t a feckin clue and frankly I know feck all about navigation either. Sextant no, sex yes!. All the fiddly stuff I leave to Olive. She gives me a compass head and I steer. She has an instinct, some people always seem to know exactly where they are. The Indonesians got around, hopping from Island to island, within sight of land almost all the time. Bloody amazing how they found their way across the Pacific on a few shells and twigs.Personally, I don’t know where I am most of the time. Wind, water, tide-tables, dates, headings, wind speed, haven't a clue and neither do I give a toss. A day at a time each one's a bonus. So the sail fills, the mast bends, I send Richard below deck while Olive and I fly across the ocean. One hand on the helm Olive in her harness tethered short enough to a jackstay, to prevent her falling overboard, while I rip her rigging off, oil her sterngland and ram it up her forecastle. Jaysus, it feels good with the wind and spray on our face and her arse drippin sea-water.

Later Richard and I were chattin about the sixties in London, John Lennon, the Beatles, the Rollingstones, the Who and we wonder how the world has morphed back into squares somehow. Everyone was either scooting off to the South coast or giving peace a chance with John. We both always loved watching sailboats and the freedom of the ocean, so I suppose that's why we both ended up with boats and why this boy kept busy chasing different tail every day. Feckin paradise, nothing to do but watch the sail billow and give the ould rudder a nudge every now and then. Gives me a chance to think about Olive's arse again. It’s not just about sex though, there's somethin spiritual about the whole thing. I leave Richard in charge and I head for a berth below to a sleep, listening to the sound of reggae music drift across the water.

Hallo says I, nice mornin for something. She smiles a lovely Philipinne smile and I want to phuk her again but she just stands there looking at the boat or more specifically the mainsail weighing about 150 pounds, more wet. "Think you could get it up there," she says pointing up the mainmast. "Sure, I say, why?" "I need a trimmer," she says. "Ach put the kettle on, I'm famished I say." "Morning Richard," as I meet him. "I don' want to go to London." he says, " I don’t think I like England anymore. Not even for a visit." Shut up Richard we discussed it alreadyor would you prefer discuss it with your wife ?" "Please No ! please I beg you, she will take me for everything, a bar girl everyday for the rest of my life is cheaper than that. " he said. "Get on with it, Olive and I are going down below for some breakfast." Well I must be honest. I’m really thinking, I’d bloody well like to ride Olive again. Get her tiny little white skirt off and go for a bit of muff-diving. She has gorgeous legs and I know I definitely won’t feel right till I have her again. Can’t keep my eyes off her thighs, as she wriggles her way into the cabin and onto the bunk.

"Funny people the English," I say to Richard later, "always talk like they can win everything, be it the London Olympics or the upcoming European football tournament. Always ignoring fantastic talent from other countries and teams, then they are so, so disappointed when they lose. Football is just a game but the English are brain washed, like as in Bill Shankly who said, "Football is not a matter of life or death, it's much more important than life or death." It seems to be like that when it comes to British Occupied Ireland too. I mean we are just after 40 years of deadly troubles, had a peace agreement and they go along and break i,t to intern without trial an Irish prisoner right's activist called Marian Price and torture her in solitary confinement. Its not not just the Olympics or the European Football finals, ;like I said yesterday its not bloody cricket, old boy !

More accurately we have an un-elected, demented English barsteward in Ireland perverting the course of justice, ripping up Queens pardons or loosing them to start another 40 years of war in Ireland. Wind your neck in you double eyed barsteward, leave the Irish women and men play their grown up games in their own country, stop interfering in other people's business and get back to yer wanking! Until you do, this Galway Whooker is sailing up your London Olympics, up your Thames, up your's mate! You see Ghengis, my voodoo helps. I have a bag of old bones scavenged from graveyards all over the UK. Whenever things get a bit too much or I am annoyed, I ride on the Galway Whooker by moonlight and cast them. Seems to work everytime, it worked with Brian Faulkner. The Brits have been after them for years but they can sod off. I’ve told them, they can have the bones back but only when we have Marian, our political prisoners and our country back. Beware of Shankley's ghost England to lose on penalties? Blame the ref is it or blame epic literature? Life's a voyage, we're all adrift on the ocean of life, some more than others. Sometimes we sail calmly, sometimes buffeted by storms from nowhere. We are now sailing into uncharted waters, as we approach London Olympics 2012.

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