Read Online Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick by James Kilcullen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Kilcullen
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place this Haven; the best of sumptuous food, better than Emma’s. But I wouldn’t tell her that.’
‘And good company,’ Dandaboy grinned.
‘Oh yes. The real action is at the weekends when they have visitors. I could tell you some hair raising stories.’ He looked at Dandaboy’s tightly cropped hair, ‘Well, maybe not.’
Dandaboy grinned. ‘Go forth,’ and disappeared.
*
T aoiseach Frankie Carney travelled out to Conna where he was greeted affably by Ulick and Ozzy, in Paulo’s. Crat was disgusted; he never met the new Taoiseach and did not receive the formal official invitation to Government House to which he was entitled. Failure to make even a courtesy call on him—the local USE Director—was downright insulting. This new premier was clearly an illiterate, like the rest of them.
Ulick drew himself up to his full height and addressed Paulo formally.
‘Garson, three pints here,’ he ordered.
The other customers cheered. Paulo smiled shaking his head.
‘Don’t you start.’
He drew the pints.
Having won the election by a majority of twelve, Frankie had every reason to be pleased; curiously, he wasn’t. He sipped his pint in silence.
‘Can you do anything about this latest USE rubbish,’ Ulick asked him.
He put down his glass.
‘You should hear the bullshit I’m getting back from our ambassador in Brussels. He’s been told not to worry, this is only a pilot scheme; if it doesn’t work it will be scrapped.’
‘And does he believe that?’
‘No and neither do any of the other ambassadors.’
‘What’s the game then?’ Ulick asked.
‘It’s no secret that for many years there are those in Brussels who want to abolish the farm subsidies; they’ve tried often enough. This fancy new scheme is designed to convince the people that life will be simpler and fairer. They’ve surrounded it with so much bullshit that they plan to pay the farmers less than they were getting under the CAP.’
‘How could they do that?’
‘There were fifteen different types of grants and income supplements to be had under the CAP. They were paid out in dribs and drabs; the farmers had no idea how much they were getting in total.’
Ulick frowned. ‘What’s all this nonsense about filling out forms, in triplicate no less?’
‘It’s a diversionary tactic; demanding information the farmers haven’t got. You know what our farmers are like when it comes to filling forms.’
Ulick nodded. ‘So, they will now receive less, spend half their time filling out forms and have to beg for it?’
Frankie put down his glass.
‘Yes, but there’s more to it than that. If this works they plan to centralize practically all power; I wouldn’t be able to have a crap without written permission from Brussels.’
Ulick frowned. ‘The courts won’t buy this rubbish.’
‘Part of their plan is to sideline our courts. As I understand it, they will issue Directives giving their local directors the power to over rule our judges.’
‘What’s happening in the other nine areas?’ Ulick asked.
‘My information is that it’s working reasonably well, but that’s the usual Brussels bullshit.’
‘Frankie, is Moxy at the back of this?’
‘I don’t think so; this fuckology has been planned over a number of years. I rang him. He says it all comes from the top; nothing to do with him, the usual crap. That bastard has a score to settle.’
The Taoiseach paused.
‘We have to find some way of stopping them.’
*
A fter midnight, Jody Fahy, Iggy O’Haire and Paulo, carried what looked like a canoe from the workshop—beside Maam Bridge—to a fishing boat tied up by the little pier. Not a word was spoken; they pushed off and rowed a short distance out into the lake before starting the motor. It was a calm night with a gentle wind blowing in from the south west. Paulo felt apprehensive; this was the first test of the Lough Corrib monster named “Madamor.” Jody cursed under his breath when the full moon
‘And good company,’ Dandaboy grinned.
‘Oh yes. The real action is at the weekends when they have visitors. I could tell you some hair raising stories.’ He looked at Dandaboy’s tightly cropped hair, ‘Well, maybe not.’
Dandaboy grinned. ‘Go forth,’ and disappeared.
*
T aoiseach Frankie Carney travelled out to Conna where he was greeted affably by Ulick and Ozzy, in Paulo’s. Crat was disgusted; he never met the new Taoiseach and did not receive the formal official invitation to Government House to which he was entitled. Failure to make even a courtesy call on him—the local USE Director—was downright insulting. This new premier was clearly an illiterate, like the rest of them.
Ulick drew himself up to his full height and addressed Paulo formally.
‘Garson, three pints here,’ he ordered.
The other customers cheered. Paulo smiled shaking his head.
‘Don’t you start.’
He drew the pints.
Having won the election by a majority of twelve, Frankie had every reason to be pleased; curiously, he wasn’t. He sipped his pint in silence.
‘Can you do anything about this latest USE rubbish,’ Ulick asked him.
He put down his glass.
‘You should hear the bullshit I’m getting back from our ambassador in Brussels. He’s been told not to worry, this is only a pilot scheme; if it doesn’t work it will be scrapped.’
‘And does he believe that?’
‘No and neither do any of the other ambassadors.’
‘What’s the game then?’ Ulick asked.
‘It’s no secret that for many years there are those in Brussels who want to abolish the farm subsidies; they’ve tried often enough. This fancy new scheme is designed to convince the people that life will be simpler and fairer. They’ve surrounded it with so much bullshit that they plan to pay the farmers less than they were getting under the CAP.’
‘How could they do that?’
‘There were fifteen different types of grants and income supplements to be had under the CAP. They were paid out in dribs and drabs; the farmers had no idea how much they were getting in total.’
Ulick frowned. ‘What’s all this nonsense about filling out forms, in triplicate no less?’
‘It’s a diversionary tactic; demanding information the farmers haven’t got. You know what our farmers are like when it comes to filling forms.’
Ulick nodded. ‘So, they will now receive less, spend half their time filling out forms and have to beg for it?’
Frankie put down his glass.
‘Yes, but there’s more to it than that. If this works they plan to centralize practically all power; I wouldn’t be able to have a crap without written permission from Brussels.’
Ulick frowned. ‘The courts won’t buy this rubbish.’
‘Part of their plan is to sideline our courts. As I understand it, they will issue Directives giving their local directors the power to over rule our judges.’
‘What’s happening in the other nine areas?’ Ulick asked.
‘My information is that it’s working reasonably well, but that’s the usual Brussels bullshit.’
‘Frankie, is Moxy at the back of this?’
‘I don’t think so; this fuckology has been planned over a number of years. I rang him. He says it all comes from the top; nothing to do with him, the usual crap. That bastard has a score to settle.’
The Taoiseach paused.
‘We have to find some way of stopping them.’
*
A fter midnight, Jody Fahy, Iggy O’Haire and Paulo, carried what looked like a canoe from the workshop—beside Maam Bridge—to a fishing boat tied up by the little pier. Not a word was spoken; they pushed off and rowed a short distance out into the lake before starting the motor. It was a calm night with a gentle wind blowing in from the south west. Paulo felt apprehensive; this was the first test of the Lough Corrib monster named “Madamor.” Jody cursed under his breath when the full moon
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