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March 13, 2018 / hbrowne4

Don’t Forget Your Shovel By Brid Mary Harnett

“Don’t forget your shovel,” Said Davey. His parting message after every coffee house meeting. Mind you, Harry would banter to warn anyone who did not go for coffee that they would be talked about, up and down and into running commentaries, embellished with an appreciated severity. But the shovel could never dig deeply enough at these sessions and Baile Atha Cliath needed more than a few excavations to sort out the failed HAP scheme, the homeless, Gilly and his Strongbows and visiting peers, the Jack of Nines and the knaves and the interfering others wearing heavy personal agendas.
Even USIS were strung out as Mortimer ordered one of them up to Christ Church to take out the spells deliberately put there to cause strife in the Lower Mount Street Communities and all the way up the Canal Bank. He had called together a whole team of Muslims to investigate the kampunga in the middle of O’Connell Street. There it happened as the Muslim Sisters of Eire served the tea and the coffee to the gracious thanks of the homeless, as Tommy leaned on his crutch and looked out from beneath the canopy of the GPO, the god side of the street. The sound sort of fire crackered out of a flower pot, raspy like a fire cracker, like the snap of a dry twig underfoot in the autumn forest.
Staring out of our eyes we all were as we watched the homemade incendiary device mushroom unsuccessfully out of the flower pot plant. It was like a blown raspberry in the night, without a sting!
The Sisters stood gob smacked, in line with the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Scientologists at the proceedings across the road. In fact, most of the leaflets blew away in the aftermath.
“Get up O’Connell Street,” Said Mortimer to his newly formed USIS group. Investigate that!”
Well, USIS took on Dublin with a new mission, the mission to keep Dublin free from incendiary devices, in fact, manifest dirt of any kind, pollutants et al.
This would mean that the garbage would have to be checked every morning of course.
“USIS, it would be good of you.” Said Mortimer. And so, they roamed the streets in the mornings and in the evenings checking the bins. They even linked up with RIngzer in Ringsend. They had to do that because Mortimer said that if Trumpty’s submarine off the coast of Dun Laoghaire mismanaged any more intelligence that he would send the entire team to hell or to Connaught, bungalows or no bungalows.
Now USIS weren’t so happy about that, because RIngzer had taught his mob to download perpetrators on app. This was far too much for Aesop of Geralyn’s creation. Mortimer insisted that Tilly stay on board since Tilly had links with everyone, including the Mastermind Conchubhar, who had taught her how to hex a person between two words. I can tell you right now that there were more than a few heated exchanges between Tilly and Mortimer.
In the meantime, Tommy was complaining about his cup of coffee. Apparently, I had put too much sugar in the cup and he was ready to go off the deep end. Sure, his nerves were nearly shot after the kampunga and the rubbish people had left after them on the street.
“I have to sleep here,” He screamed. Keep the street clean!”
Yet another homeless man came out and complained that the only soft drink available was Budda sparkling water, which he pointed out was derogatory to Muslims in Rohingya.
“I’m Muslim,” He said.
“Funnily enough,” I said, ‘’I am Muslim too. That is the reason I dress like this. Don’t let these blue eyes fool you! But sorry, I didn’t notice the logo on the can!”
Strange happenings of a Friday evening, but fodder for next Saturday’s coffee house discussion.
Let’s hope the Unions won’t interfere with the shovel action.
And sure if they do, Pat will have a lot to say about that….

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