09.27.06

When is a loan not a loan?

Posted in Domestic/Relationships at 10:32 am by Sarah

I’m just curious.

“The difference of talking about somebody taking millions and somebody taking hundreds of thousands in exchange for contracts and other matters, and taking what is a relatively small contribution from friends who had a clear understanding they would be paid back. I do not equate those. If I was to take several hundreds of thousands of pounds or several million from people where I had no association with, or people that were totally business interests, that would be totally, totally wrong.”

Then he referred repeatedly as the money being “a debt of honour”. Then he says they refused to take the money back (so obviously there was no clear understanding that it would be paid back).

He knows he can’t say they were a gift cos then there would be tax owed. So he has to characterise them as loans. But the loans have not been paid back, so therefore they were gifts. I wonder does the tax code have a section for “debts of honour”.

Then I liked Pat Rabbitte’s repitition of Bertie’s response to the suggestion in 1996 that the money paid to Michael Lowry might have been a loan.

Mr Ahern told the Dáil that “there would have to be incontrovertible written evidence of that at the time and arrangements having been made for its repayment . . . The making of such a personal loan on more favourable conditions than would be available from any lending institution would clearly represent a personal favour that ought to be declared.”

It’s interesting that what will really haunt Bertie is what he said about Lowry and Haughey will harm him more than his own financial messing.

Bertie Ahern

Posted in Domestic/Relationships at 9:47 am by Sarah

What a load of complete codswallop.

He does a carefully managed one-on-one interview with the ever polite Dobson who to be fair did ask the right questions but just very nicely. He did pull out a great quote from Bertie that politicians should not be under obligation to anyone! Wasn’t going to stand up in the Dail! Why didn’t he say what he had to say in the Dail?

EVERYONE who has had contact with the Tribunals has had to go through the same process. And as we all know the Tribunals leak like sieves (em, guilty here I know). Ever had a tax audit Bertie? My parents had one. My mother had to go through the account in our local shop and explain how she managed to feed a family on the food she was buying. The auditor didn’t believe she could run her kitchen on the food bought in the corner shop. And you weep because you have to explain where you got £38k in 1993?

The bottom line is that he received money from his friends, “loans” which were never repaid, to help him out with his personal finances. (Sound familiar? What’s the difference between this and Haughey except scale? He says its not the same. How exactly?) Now I don’t believe that Bertie Ahern is corrupt or that these were bribes or anything else. I’m still vague on the tax implications. But tough, welcome to Tribunal land. He got money and he has to explain it. Yes its embarrassing, yes its stressful. What do you think everyone else has been going through for years? Suddenly he’s the only victim of the Tribunals?

Marvellous media management. And its worked. RTE being flooded with outraged calls. I’m sorry for him personally, but I had a flash back to me crying in the bed when the Moriarty Tribunal told me that they’d call me to the witness stand a few days after my first baby was due to be born. And Denis O’Brien trying to get permission for a day off from the Tribunal because his wife had to get a Caesarian because their baby was in trouble. (And a lot of people casually assuming it was a lie). Bertie Ahern isn’t the first person to have his finances exposed. Tough shit.

Update: Listening to the radio and the journos are screeching about this being the biggest political crisis Bertie has faced and he is SO damaged etc etc. He’s not damaged. The performance last night was outstanding and the people will sympathise with him. In fact, if I was the opposition I could fairly easy today or they’ll be a backlash.

09.26.06

Boots

Posted in Sunday Times Columns at 9:35 pm by Sarah

An interesting story. I had a pair of camel coloured calf length boots which were very comfortable but barely worn – especially in the last few years. This weekend I decided a key gap in my wardrobe were black calf length boots. I have knee high ones and ankle ones but not calf length. If only I could dye the camel ones I thought. I searched our village but sadly they didn’t stock shoe leather dye. Passing a garage I remembered the mother-in-law bragging about dyeing shoes with spray car paint. Aha! I bought satin finish black car paint spray, stuffed the boots with newspaper, went outside and sprayed the boots. They looked great!

Next morning I dressed on the way to the airport for my mini-break in Edinburgh and noticed that when I took the newspapers out the leather went a bit soft and the camel colour showed through in the tiny cracks. Undaunted I kept going – sure I’d get away with it for the weekend and then touch up on my return.

However, once I got into the car and started driving, I began to notice the smell of the paint! By the time I got to the airport I was nearly overcome with toxic fumes. I went straight to the Ladies, inspected the boots – LOADS more camel coloured cracks appearing and I realised I couldn’t get on a plane with the stink. So, took ‘em off, dumped them in the bin (the other women thought I was CRACKED watching put a pair of seemingly perfect boots into the bin). Fortunately I had other black shoes which matched my jeans, and off I went. Down a pair of perfectly good, if rarely worn, camel coloured boots. Dammit. I must complain to the mother-in-law.

The sister-in-law

Posted in Sunday Times Columns at 11:55 am by Sarah

Just opened this. Abandoned the perfectly good but souless and unfulfilling corporate job. I wonder would any of these therapies do anything for me?

09.25.06

Little Man

Posted in Uncategorized at 2:21 pm by Sarah

I proved too weakminded and Leon had to go without me. I went to the Ron Mueck, which was amazing (although we were disappointed that some of the more famous pieces like Mother and Child weren’t there). However, he has generously provided us with a review.

“Little Man is one of the funniest films that I have seen this year. The pleasure of the film was derived both from the inspired on screen comedy and from the reactions of the audience whith whom I saw it; composed
primarily of 12 to 15 year olds (who were better behaved than I was when I used to go to the ‘pictures’ at that age) and my daughter and her cousin aged 8 and 7.

There are a number of spoilers in this review and those who don’t want the film ruined should be advised that ‘Little Man’ is always offensive, often entertaining and never intelligent. In order to enjoy the film one has to engage with it on its own terms and ignore the ludicrous anture of the premise. For example why would a grown man (albeit a midget) defecate and urinate on himself for the sake of verisimillitude, surely the sight of fully developed genitalia (and judging by the midgets confident smile when his genitals are discussed he is not a ‘little man’ down there) which presumably includes descended testicles MUST alert someone to the fact that this is no ordinary baby. Non ti procuparri, gentle reader, you must turn your brain off to enjoy this film. The stupider you can be the more you will enjoy it.

A midget prtending to be a baby is fostered by a (presumably mentally disabled) couple. There are a large number of jokes about men being hit in the balls with various objects. This leitmotif which begins unpromisingly and becomes tedious and then irritating finally became hilarious.
There are jokes about breastfeeding which don’t make sense. The midget wants to suckle at a sex pot type’s boobs, but when given a rather more pendulous and dare I say less artificial boob to nurse on makes a disgusted face. What is this – a little midget faggot? Just put her nipple in your mouth and drink the sweet sweet milk of human kindness. The woman even throws a blanket over his head before she stuffs her nipple in his mouth. I
mean the midget has just got out of jail but we’re supposed to believe that he wouldn’t suck any tits upon which he could get his mouth? That reminds me; the midget’s nickname for his cellmate is “Sweetmouth” which only got a laugh from me in the whole cinema. But maybe there is a whole gay theme here that I’m missing. Brokeback Midget anyone?

The midget qua midget got a lot of laughs from the children. The film is dirty and while the mid teenagers were scandalised the children were oblivious. Bizarrely I don’t think it warped their minds; they just tuned all the double enteres and benny hill style salaciousness out.

SUPER SPOILER COULD WRECK FILM
The couple are waking up after a night of lovemaking. The wife says she can’t remember the last time they did it twice. (Laughter) The husband says “Twice? Did we do it twice’ (more laughter OK I get it the midget
fucked the wife). The wife says that they did it twice while the husband looks puzzled (girl with D4 accent shouts ‘Oh my God’ and more laughter). Husband says he doesn’t remember doing it twice – cut to midget making eyebrow wiggles (girl with D1 accent shouts ‘Jesus the baby’ more laughter) so four laughs from one joke; none of which came from 8 year old or 7 year old.

At the end of the film the ‘father’ and the ‘baby’ are parting ways and the midget says “No hard feelings”. They agree and shake hands. “No hard feelings”? You fucked my wife you fucking recidivist midget.

The audience were well behaved, some popcorn throwing but no catcalling at the screen. A lot of text messaging and whispering but frankly I don’t think one can go to a 12s film on a Sunday afternoon and complain
about teenagers. 2 final points, people were sitting on the stairs, contrary to what the Sunday World would have us believe a couple beside me and in front of Cousin (7) were snogging and in both cases the girls
held their arms in the boxers boob guard position we all remember but which thankfully none of us will have encountered for some time. (I noticed this when I told them to stop kissing- in both cases they did- I
wan’t being a busybody the ones beside me were distracting me from Little Man and Cousin stood up to watch the 2 in front).”

Meanwhile I told Leon about my visit to the Ron Mueck exhibition and marvelled at how the sculptor’s use of scale increased the impact of the figures. Leon “That’s interesting you know because in Little Man the use of scale is crucial to the entire film”. So a common theme to our artistic ventures this weekend. :-)

Wags line up for tee time

Posted in Uncategorized at 10:43 am by Sarah

On behalf of Ryder Cup widows, can I just say we are extremely satisfied with the event so far. Probably just as satisfied as the golfers’ wives and girlfriends (Wags).

The brother collected the husband at 7am on Wednesday. Within an hour I heard on the radio that fans were being asked not to set out for the K Club due to the small matter of a hurricane. I phoned the lads to warn them, but they were already parked up at Westin aerodrome along with several thousand husbands and boyfriends (Habs). In fact they’d bumped into some friends and were all sitting in a steamed-up car waiting for the storm to pass.

Their refusal to accept defeat paid off. At 10am the all-clear was announced and the middle-aged, middle-class men queued like eager schoolboys for a shuttle bus to the K Club. My husband, an oddity because he occasionally uses public transport, wondered how the rest of the travelling public in Dublin were faring. Given that 120 Dublin buses were transporting golf enthusiasts to the K Club and back, what were students, pensioners and the rest of the marginalised population doing for a ride to town that day? The lads had a spectacular time, even without their precious mobile phones — forbidden inside the grounds. They saw all the golfers up close and paid €40 for what my husband assures me were fantastic fish and chips. He returned home buoyant and cheerful. The only problem now is how to watch the event, since it is not being shown live on terrestrial television and we are too mean to pay the few farthings required to get Sky Sports. Still, he is a resourceful man with benevolent friends and relations. I’m sure he’ll get to see those last few holes live tonight.

Meanwhile the Wags have been making life hard for themselves. I crave the day when a gay golfer brings his boyfriend along to the Ryder Cup. That would shake things up a bit.

Seeing a picture of the girls at the Curragh races, I ran through a mental check list. “Hmm. Good hat. Nice top. Uh-oh, not so sure about those feathers, Mrs Harrington.” The automatic judgment radar was in cruel mode. Unfair, but those Ryder Cup Wags are a breed apart, and it’s the only tournament I know of where wives are an integral and official part of the event. They are inside the ropes, not outside.

The original Wags, the English World Cup wives and girlfriends, provided huge entertainment. They went out on the town, partied for their country and did their best to outdo each other on the clothes front. We judged them, but they were willing competitors and knew who the real enemy was: each other.

Their behaviour may be shallow, but they are a bunch of young women with time on their hands and money in their pockets. And they know where they belong. When it comes to the sport they sit back and watch with all the other VIPs. The only things they sport are size 0 jeans and huge sunglasses.

I hardly think it would help the football players concentrate on their game if they had their wives standing 6ft from them throughout the match. Can you imagine a pouting Posh Spice standing on the sideline of a football pitch rather than being safely ensconced in the stands? The ever-direct Roy Keane couldn’t bear even this level of distance. The Wags annoyed him, Keano told The Sunday Times last week. God knows where his wife is during a tournament, but out of sight of a camera will do. Keane is a man’s man who likes to get on with the serious business of sport without distraction from the female of the species. You have to respect that.

There is an irony in that golf, still regarded in many quarters as a no-go zone for women, is the only sport inviting spouses into the team. Yes, of course women can play golf — but mostly with each other. The lads don’t want us around. They need their sacred spaces. We have the spa, they have the golf course. It’s only fair.

I blame the Americans for the Ryder Cup Wags, though. They’re a nation of cheerleaders. Basketball and American football matches can’t take place without a line-up of Identikit Barbie dolls dancing and shouting throughout. Turning wives into cheerleaders was the next logical step.

Hal Sutton, a former American captain, explained: “Wives are very important in the Ryder Cup, because we feel pretty alone out there. It’s you against the world, so to speak, especially when you’re on foreign turf.” Actually, the players are not alone. They are with their team and the Ryder Cup is one of the few golfing events that has teams. Everywhere else they actually are alone.

It wasn’t until I rang my sister, who had the good fortune to attend the opening ceremony, that I began to twig why the wives are really being let in. We reviewed the ceremony, but actually we reviewed the outfits. The Ryder Cup is a great competition, but it had been limited in its scope by only involving one sex. Bring the wives into the competition and you bring in a female crowd. Golf needed the glamour of soccer if it was to spread its wings.

It’s hardly any surprise that America, where the market is king, identified the branding opportunity and started dressing the wives in matching outfits. It was impressive to see them in that black wool and those knee-high boots. The European wives, reflecting politics, showed a commitment in principle to the federalist model. But being desperate to hang on to some measure of identity, they sought derogation. The resulting pale blue blazers for some and check coats for others was confusing. Were they or weren’t they matching? Let’s hope the lack of cohesion is not indicative of poor team spirit on the team that counts — the men’s team.

The importance of the wives to the event is best illustrated by the fact that the players came under pressure to bring a W or G, even if they didn’t have one. The photographs would be ruined if there wasn’t a matching girl for each player. Unmarried golfers found themselves asking their last date to assume the role for the week. The madness had to stop and I was glad to read that the sad death of Heather Clarke put some sense on the proceedings.

Since Darren Clarke would be unaccompanied, his team mates Colin Montgomerie, who is divorced, and Jose Maria Olazabal, who is single, agreed they would not cast around for a dolled-up model to take part in the showcase. Let’s hope the solidarity shown by his team mates provides the support he needs and hopefully he’ll play a crucial role in winning the event.

Now, has anyone got Sky Sports so I can watch the wretched thing?

09.21.06

Tragic

Posted in Feminism at 11:53 am by Sarah

This is awful

“Harrowing details of how a man hanged himself hours after he had knocked down and killed a three-year-old boy in the Co Tyrone village of Donemana on December 26th, 2004, were given at Strabane Coroners’ Court yesterday.

Adam Mullan was playing with his Christmas toys on the footpath outside a relative’s house at Allen Park, Donemana, when Jonathan Montgomery mounted the footpath in his Peugeot 309 car and drove at his ex-girlfriend, Katherine Hepburn, with whom he had had a row over the paternity of the baby with which she was 30 weeks pregnant.

Montgomery (22), a car mechanic from Raphoe, in Co Donegal, who lived in Donemana, instead struck the young boy. He also seriously injured the boy’s mother, Queenie Mullan.

The hit-and-run driver then drove to nearby Riddell’s Quarry at Lupin’s Avenue. There he was contacted by police officers and family friends on his mobile phone but he ignored their pleas to “stay calm”. He then used a rope to hang himself from a crane.

Ms Hepburn told the court that her four-year relationship with Mr Montgomery had ended four months earlier. She said he became violent towards her when she refused to have an abortion. The witness added that, during their relationship, Montgomery had attempted to commit suicide, and once she had cut him down after finding him hanging from a rafter in their home.

Ms Hepburn’s father, Robert Hepburn, told the inquest how on the day of the incident, Mr Montgomery’s car mounted the footpath and drove towards his daughter. She jumped out of the way and, instead, the car struck the three-year-old boy and his mother.

A friend of Montgomery, Mark Nicholl, said minutes after the accident he was contacted by Montgomery by mobile phone. “He said he was in the quarry and had got a rope. He asked me if the wain was dead. I said he was. He said he could not live with this and could not go to jail,” said Mr Nicholl.

Assistant coroner Suzanne Anderson said a postmortem revealed Adam Mullan died from head injuries sustained as a result of a collision. The cause of Mr Montgomery’s death was hanging.”

You’d wonder why he had been getting treatment if he was clearly showing suicidal behaviour prior to this accident.

09.19.06

Benedict and Reason

Posted in Uncategorized at 9:45 pm by Sarah

I am preparing a detailed post on Benedict’s speech (which is all about reason and faith) and then Paddy told me to read this. Hilarious.

Environmentally Friendly Fire

Posted in Irish Politics at 5:13 pm by Sarah

I swear to God this is an actual article from this week’s Sunday Times which I have only just got round to reading:

“BAE SYSTEMS, one of the world’s biggest arms manufacturers, is designing a new generation of “green” munitions, including “lead-free” bullets and rockets with reduced toxins.

It also wants to cut the dangerous compounds in its jets, fighting vehicles and artillery, which it warns “can harm the environment and pose a risk to people”.

The initiative is being backed by the Ministry of Defence, which has proposed quieter warheads to reduce noise pollution and grenades that produce less smoke. There have even been experiments to see if explosives can be turned into manure.”

So they can kill you in an eco-friendly way??? Noise pollution??? HELLOOOO?

Sense here:

“”This is laughable,” said Symon Hill of Campaign Against Arms Trade. “BAE is determined to try to make itself look ethical, but they make weapons to kill people and it’s utterly ridiculous to suggest they are environmentally friendly.”

During the Iraq war, Britain dropped more than 900 bombs while the United States has admitted dropping 1,500 cluster bombs, which detonate numerous explosions over a large area, and anti-landmine campaigners have sought to ban them. The exact death toll is unknown.”

Potty Training

Posted in Sunday Times Columns at 2:37 pm by Sarah

We are in week 2. I think its going pretty well but I have copped on to one thing. He’s not being trained. I am. I know now when he needs to go and offer the potty. Still, there is progress. When he needs to go he starts to get edgy and might pull at himself and pace around. Sometimes he’s asked for a nappy or his potty sweets (bribery forming core part of training). Then we rush to potty and walla! HUGE praise for the production of wee. No No. 2’s yet though. (He wears a nappy for the nap and at night).

« Previous entries Next Page » Next Page »

Bad Behavior has blocked 2131 access attempts in the last 7 days.