18 January 2011

A very Irish coup

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

A general state of political fatigue has settled over all and sundry here at Booming Back. Normally you, the stalwart readers of this humble blog, can count on the pages herein to be filled with more than the occasional ire-filled polemic or the less-occasional doe-eyed endorsement of, with or on something vaguely related to contemporaneous political goings-on. If there isn't anything worth raising one's blood pressure over on the domestic scene I have been known to thrown my net far and wide and comment on the do-ings and misdeeds of our policial contemporaries in the US, the UK, [REDACTED], Italy or even Norway on one particularly slow news week.

Sandwiched in between photos of places that I shouldn't have flown to and reviews of books I wish I had finished one can almost certainly find an ill-informed and hastily written denunciation of the latest offence visited upon the tattered shards of the Republic (ours, or someone else's, I'm not that picky usually) by our political masters.

Thus it will no doubt come as something of a surprise to hear that this week I really couldn't be bothered even working up the energy to write a mildly snarky post. All that needs to be said is that this last week has seen what will surely be remembered as the most cack-handed and god-awfully boring political coup in the history of political coups. With Fianna Fail in genuine danger of becoming extinct within three months they are proving incapable of even rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, never mind getting the women and children to the lifeboats. Every turn of the news cycle brings yet more ways to say that nothing is happening, nor is it very likely to.

So with that in mind I feel comfortable in saying that without any fear of equivocation or doubt in my mind that the most amazing thing that has happened, or is likely to happen, to me this week is the arrival of a New-to-Dave Cappuccino machine into the Booming Back kitchen. A present from the Very Understanding Girlfriend by way of the attic of a friend's parents, it now sits on a counter-top burbling away in happy contemplation, oblivious to the disappointment of an entire nation around it deriving from the lack of political movement and the absence of an imminent election.

Oh happy Cappuccino machine, how I envy you.

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