“Who the fuck is she kidding with her stupid face and her crap mullet? She has about as much to do with republicanism as the new Lexus ISS220d.,” said one taxi driver.

With ‘Toodle-Lou’ out of the picture, the role of irksome, gobby Dublin-based fem-bot politician falls to the comically named Lucinda Creighton. Opponents of the FG dung beetle have repeatedly drawn attention her online namesake, a star of many DIY-themed pornography features. One such film, ‘Loose-inda and the incinerator’, sees our girl fight valiantly against a realistic plan for waste management only to be triple-penetrated by three black men, before almost choking to death in a torrent of jism.

Indeed, it’s a tough period for women politicians of every hue and it now seems certain that Minister for saying ‘fuck’ too much, Mary Coughlan, will be moved away from the rather important role of finding jobs for the country and right into the Department of Justice. When questioned on how appropriate it might be to have a Minister from Donegal in Justice in light of the Morris Tribunal, Coughlan said:

“Lick the f*****g c** out of my juicy f*****g f***hole you dirty f*****g a**eater!”

Nevertheless, media remained focused on the Tánaiste’s low profile as Fine Gael made huge grounds in the local elections. But experts say it remains to be seen whether a generation of new political hopefuls have shot their load too early by plumping for the blue-shirts during Fianna Fáil’s darkest hour. One political analyst explains:

“The essential difference between Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael is principles – Fine Gael have them and Fianna Fáil don’t. What voters conveniently forget is that a democracy gives you the politicians you deserve and previous elections clearly show us that principles are a burden at the ballot. This is why Fine Gael never get elected – they refuse to swallow their fairly crap principles and they can’t compete with Fianna Fáil, the party most likely to respond to the question ‘what is you name’ with the answer ‘what do you want it to be?”

“We had Bertie and the PDs and then Bertie the Socialist, all delivered without a hint of irony. This is possible because the national electorate is largely made up of queue-skipping, back-handed, scratch-my-back, selfish, cheating Irish people who see the application of rules as a direct affront to their ‘unconquerable’ charm. And then we all wonder where the support for Fianna Fáil comes from.”

“When the current downturn passes, a lot of rookie political blood will be spilt as the nation adopts its more comfortable position of ‘fuck the greater good, what can you do for ME?’ and we can expect Fianna Fáil to claw back a lot of ground in that environment.”

Ordinary people, who days ago sent their affection and well-wishes in the direction of the deeply unfortunate Tomas O’Leary will, like Peter, find themselves denying their own kind many more than three times as the evening wears on this Saturday. Experts believe this is die to the periodic emergence of a baseless, gaelic-Catalonia, a self-aggrandising ‘nation’ of crimson, ruddy-faced, gurning frauds.

“Let them have their day,” said one Senior Judge from South County Dublin who refused to be identified on his way out of Kiely’s as he got into his jag in Donnybrook after a skin-full of pints in one of the country’s most well-served hubs of public transport. “The Cousin-fuckers need something to shout about, otherwise they might notice that they suffer under the worst gang culture in Europe, not including the UK, France, Germany and all of Eastern Europe.”

Indeed the country’s quiet ghetto-isation in Limerick has encountered something of a problem – an unidentifiable corpse in the rough, if you will – with respect to its policy to ‘grieve nationally’ while doing sweet fuck all about the execution of ordinary civilians. The rest of the country has been quick to not give a fuck about the same issue, in light of the past success of the national philosophy on the Troubles: ‘Have they calmed down yet? No?Has anyone asked if Iceland will take them? No? Well let’s just keep quiet and pretend it’s not happening so’.

This generation-defining movement of inactivity was characterised by a featureless, motionless, invisible and intangible, consensus of ‘I don’t care, it can’t be worth killing someone over’ that galvanised the people of Ireland to buy property and jaager bombs in record numbers over the last two decades.

Meanwhile RTE executives have been stroking each others’ crotches in self-congratulation following the news that Roy Keane will deign to speak on the Irish telly-box this Friday evening with Plank Kenny. Pat has been a bad boy recently, say insiders, so bad in fact that even this forum won’t risk the potential legal ramifications of unsubstantiated reports of something that rhymes with Spar-**** and snow-***. Back in studio however:

“Roy Keane is just electric,” said the Press office in RTE. “He’s a stark warning of how angry Irish people can become if they give up the drink. We’re just hoping he doesn’t have a snot and decide to leave halfway through the interview. There’s every chance that, as soon as he has had a pop at every major sporting figure in Ireland who didn’t quit when the going got tough, he’ll glower at the camera and rip his mic off before storming out in a fit of rage that only dog-walking can quell.”

Irish by birth, Munster by the grace of God. And there, but for the grace of God, go we.  

The North Korean Premier hopes to croon his way around any number of meaningless UN resolutions to secure a live performance in the BBC this September with a rendition of the Lionel Richie classic: ‘Herro, is it me youl rooking fol?’

Music industry experts were quick to ask: “All this for an Asian joke about ‘L’s and ‘R’s?” which prompted the response: ‘you betcha, its raff out roud funny’. The US State Department welcomed the move and Hillary Clinton was quick to support the development of an Axis of Soft Rock between North Korea and Iran, when it emerged that Iranian President Ahmadinejad was a big Kings of Leon fan. 

“This sex is on fffiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire,” hummed President Ahmadinejad, who also claims to be a fan of Prince, Christina Aguillera and Right Said Fred. “Oh yes! I’m… too sexy for this Mosque… too sexy for Israel… too sexy for this Burqha-derka-derka-derka…” 

Another surprise hit with Arab leaders is Northern Irish sex-toy, Eoghan Quigg, as Ahmadinejad explains: 

“I always wanted to go to bed with a 16-year-old boy who vaguely reminds me of Harvey Keitel.. or Martin Scorsese. What’s not to like?? My grandfather would have killed for those eyebrows.”   

On Wednesday, Bruce Arnold of the Irish Indepedent likened Brian Lenihan’s pre-budget grimaces to the face of a man who just got off a statutory rape charge – sure, there’s relief, but how the hell do you visit granny after that? Nevertheless, sources say Lenihan is quietly confident about the upcoming budget.

“We have a plan”, said one party insider, “as long as Madonna agrees to adopt us. If that doesn’t work, we’re going to give Mary Coughlan a few whiskeys and she’s going to admonish the recession into submission.”

Described by supporters as ‘earthy’, the Tánaiste is believed to have strong support from the Death Row Records lobby and indeed the wider hip-hop community of South Central LA and the Westcoast scene. However the Irish diplomatic corps are less enthused:

“She’s got a chip on her shoulder – a talking chip that tells her to say ‘fuck’ every three words.”

Meanwhile, personal criticisms flew at the party’s Ard Fheis over the week end when Lucinda Creighton compared Enda Kenny to Mayor Quimby. ‘People-Of-Wesport….’ She droned in a surprisingly good Simpsons voice, but not before she was forced to deny that her name was reminicient of Ronseal hardware products. Ms Creighton responded by telling her critics to ‘eat my farts.’

“April Fools is the one day of the year when the Gods can walk amongst men. No matter what manner of miracles are wrought, humanity resolutely refuses to believe these incredible events are anything but a hoax. This helps the deities-that-be to really blow off a lot steam with some flamboyant displays of power.”

God himself though – GOD, God, if you will – is something of a a practical joker. Sources say that last year he turned South America upside-down for the day and one angel was happy to give an insight into the Almighty.

“God is a scream. It’s like – last October Zeus had a fancy dress party and God came as, get this, a Golden Calf! I mean you gotta love this guy. But all the central figures of the monotheistic faiths are pretty cool. Yahweh came as a Yeti - he spent the whole night saying ‘well no-one ever saw a Yeti, right? Right?’ and the year before he didn’t even show up but he still got half the party to pretend that he had just left the room when anyone asked where he was.”

But not everyone in paradise is happy with the festivities and there have been murmurings that God is setting a bad example for his only son our Lord, Jesus Christ. God’s only son has been keeping a low profile for the past couple of thousand years since it emerged that perhaps his resurrection was less miraculous than the bible’s version of events. 

A source, speaking on condition of anonymity, said: 

“Resurrection my ass – Jesus and his buddies got tanked at a cider party in the garden of Gethsemany and three days later he wakes up in a cave. We all had those kind of nights, but only Jesus claims he rose from the dead.”

The royal family of heaven refused to comment on the matter, but the rumours are that the divine drinks cabinet has been under lock and key since the ‘Old Testament-Gate’ scandal.

Speaking under fear of excommunication, a cleric from inside the Papal residence said: 

“The Pope is hooked on the hit TV series The Wire and with a visit to Baltimore coming ahead of the comedy show, the Pope’s handlers are keen to stop Benedict answering four out of five questions with the reply, ‘mos’ def’”. 

The Vatican’s concerns are backed up by the bookies and Betfair.com has put the Pope saying ‘bless all niggers’ at 4/1 before the start of June 2009. In recent days, the Pope offended a huge number of Aid Agencies, as well as the faculties of science, reason and responsibility when he stated that condom-use in Africa actually ‘aggravates’ the AIDS problem.

Next week, ahead of his bi-weekly ‘I-know-the-holocaust-happened,-sorry-if-it-sounded-otherwise statement, the Pope is expected to bring poverty under the holy catholic hammer of nonsense. 

The new campaign, which follows on from the laughable ‘Make Poverty History’ concert of recent years, will be called ‘Just squeeze your eyes shut and try to believe some dinner into existence’. Admitting that the challenge of global hunger was indeed humbling, the Pope said at least the new initiative had the potential to ‘Make Poverty Quieter’.

 “For Big Tobacco to stay profitable we need to start 500 teens smoking every day. It’s a tough challenge, but as long as it’s delivered in a tone of cuddly bonhomie, I think we can make the difference,” said O’Briain.

 The campaign, which is called ‘Don’t be so shit – light a cigarette and suffocate your inner dork, you fucking asshole’, aims to play on the obvious vulnerability of young teenagers and their well-documented need to be accepted by their peers. A spokesman for Marlboro explained the insight that informs the new campaign.

 “Marketing to a young audience is difficult, because you have to put yourself in the frame of mind of people who are gob-smackingly stupid and dumb. The idiocy of young teens in particular defies belief, so essentially we will brow-beat these greasy, pimply turds into smoking by telling them how shit they are if they don’t smoke.” 

O’Briain’s campaign, which will go to air next week, will first focus on the strong ties between smoking and sex. 

“Ah sure there’s nothing like the cigarette you have after sex! It’s only delicious as you lie there, easing your sated frame from right to left like a lion on the Serengheti. And it’s a good thing you smoke too, because if you didn’t smoke, you never would have met the goddess lying there beside you. Instead you would have been inside hoping that your crap chat up lines make up for the stench of your BO, you desperate loser. People who don’t smoke never have sex. Ever. So don’t be so shit – light a cigarette and suffocate your inner dork, you fucking asshole’ – Brought to you by a conglomerate of tobacco companies”. 

“We trade in misery at Ryanair, and no-one is going to come on one of my planes and stew in their own juices without paying me for the pleasure.”

The new charges will see recently broken-up people pay and extra €15 per seat, while all single men and women over 30 will have to pay an extra 10% in airport charges. Divorcees will be subject a €45 hike, while people who have been physically or sexually abused will have to charter their own plane at a cost of no less than €879 per passenger.

O’Leary will also introduce a blanket charge on all people with Polish passports.

“I have never seen a Polish person smile. Ever. They’re all miserable, and now they’re going to have to pay me extra to fly on my shitty planes.”

Meanwhile, having dispensed with in-person check-ins, Ryanair look set to axe their online check-in as well. A spokesman for this collection of irredeemable cocksuckers said:

“To check in, passengers will have to open the nearest window, look towards the airport and shout their reference number. There will be a charge of €75 for this service and if we don’t hear you the first time, the charge will be trebled.”

A customer satisfaction survey carried out by the Dublin Aviation Authority found that 20% of those polled said that Ryanair and Michael O’Leary were ‘outrageous’. A further 88% agreed, or strongly agreed with the statement that Michael O’Leary is ‘just a fucking asshole’, while 94% said that they ‘would definitely not piss on that child-molesting cunt if he, and his family and pets, were burning’. Coincidentally, the same percentage of people agreed that they would set O’Leary’s face on fire with specially engineered ‘flammable piss’ if given the opportunity.

Finally, 172% of people surveyed agreed that O’Leary was a thankless cock-gobbler who whined and moaned at the government to save his revolting airline from collapse by forcing Aer Lingus to allow him to fly from Dublin to London, a route without which, his evil and deplorable enterprise would never have come to symbolise everything that is wrong with greedy, grubby shithead Irishmen who feel they  are answerable to no-one because they have some cash.

Friday, best known as a friend of Bono’s and for not being Simon Carmody, will travel to the world renowned Moyet Clinic, having grown unhappy with his lot as man in a man’s world. He will be seen by eminent surgeon Dr Lawrence Dickov and will return to Ireland to relaunch his career.

An artists impression of a post-op Friday

A Lillie’s Bordello insider told the Irish Sentinel “He has it all worked out. His triumphant return will be stage-managed to the Nth degree and he has plans to get off the plane and flash his gee at reporters, making him the first Irish woman to show her privates in public since Maud Gonne ran starkers down Townsend Street in 1947″.

But an even more inside insider revealed the cynical nature of Friday’s plot. “The only reason he’s going to turn himself into a woman is so he can pretend to have cervical cancer and get publicity like old baldy-whatserface in the UK. He’s going to be pictured smoking with his newly-created cervix, rubbing the cervix off mobile telephone masts and having sex with highly-irradiated Sellafield workers.

Then he’s going to shave his head, go on a crash diet, hire Max Clifford and milk the sympathy for all its worth. Then, right at the death, no pun intended, he’s going to have miraculous recovery and release a double-album entitled ‘Sir Vix-a-lot’, which will feature all his old tunes remixed by Carl Cox.

The public should know this before they become enraptured with the fragile beauty whose life appears to be ebbing away”.

A spokeperson for Friday said the idea was ‘ludicrous, crass and downright insulting’ but refused to deny the fact he was travelling to the USA.

“He’s going on a 49 state tour … erm … he’s going to sell some of his paintings to … erm … look, he’s just going to see some old friends”.

Leixlip man, Ciaran Gallooogaly, turned himself in to Gardai at Harcourt St in the early hours of 6^th June 2008. The 26 year old bank official was in a visibly dishevelled state and wore no pants whatsoever. He went on to explain how his alter ego, Ciaran O-Man, had dragged him down an alley after plying him with Double Vodka and Red Bulls all night in local hostelry, CopperFaceJacks. Apparently ‘Mr.O-Man’ forced him to “masturbate furiously” and wipe the discharge, which was considerable in volume, all over his own hair and face.

A colleague of the disturbed victim/perpetrator wasn’t at all surprised upon hearing the news. “He’s always been a bit of a mentaller. He’d come in most mornings looking like the inside of a garbage truck. He smelled like a fuckin’ sewer too., the dirty bastard. People used to just humour him, give him menial jobs to do. He was a harmless enough fella though, to be fair. Having said that, there was incident a year or so back when someone kept shitting on the floor of the handicap toilet. Everyone knew it was him but when asked about it he would always blame some non-existent character he called O-Man, or some shite like that. WE all just thought it was funny, except for Roxy, the cleaning lady, she didn’t find it funny at all. She’s Lithuanian though, so fuck her!  ”

Detective Sergeant Jim Cop was on duty when Gallooogaly entered Harcourt St station that night. “The schmell was pure rotten”, remarked the Castlebar native. “He was pure schteamed and there was a load of willy goo in his hair. I didn’t know what to be doin’ at all at all. I managed to calm him down by punching him repeatedly in the face until he was unconscious.”

In Court, the defendant, who was representing himself pleaded not-guilty to raping himself and laid the blame squarely at the feet of his alternate personality, Mr O-man. Judge John Brophy, when passing verdict, said that Gallooogaly was a danger to himself and also to himself and should serve a minimum of 3 years, dependant on completion of a course in “not wanking in public for dummies”. 

As he was taken away Gallooogaly was heard screaming “YOU CAN’T LOCK ME UP WITH THIS CUNT! HE’LL JIZZ IN ME FACE AGAIN!!”