Chapter 1: What issues are raised about government spending on bike shelters?
The bicycle sheds go up in twos and threes. There's 130 grand squandered on a barn tonight. Another week, another bike shelter that costs hundreds of thousands. Either government spending is grossly incompetent, or else Ireland is now being run by a sinister and secret cabal of men in lycra, determined to ride every cent out of taxpayers in pursuit of keeping their saddles in from the drizzle.
Hey! Minister, what we saw at Kerry Hospital where the HSE goes for the most expensive option to keep a few rawhar from the rain is shocking. It's so shocking even the dial printer is scundered about it. Yous are cereal wasters. That's not true. I eat all my Rice Krispies. Withdraw that remark. Angry Pierce.
Chapter 2: How does the discussion shift to the state of healthcare in Ireland?
In Dáil Éireann, to the left of me hostility, to the right of me hubris. If Marie Antoinette let the starving have cake, the Irish version is to give snazzy bike shelters where the stroke patients can't get a trolley. What in the name of living feck is going on in this hellhole of a country?
Transport Minister Dara O'Brien deployed extra neck folds over his shirt collar in a straining effort to explain this latest travesty. This is way out of order and I can promise the public that in future we will get better at hiding this sort of overspending hoopla. Look, I've greenlit a one billion euro road for Galway that ends in a half abandoned place called Connemara.
And when that goes 50% over budget, then these bike shed McMansions will be well down the list of disgraces. Dara gets it done. How much rage can one nation take? A three million euro vanity railway for the Ryder Cup, GAA Plus, the Cromwellian levels of hatred for the deposit return atrocity.
Is there any amount of crack to be had in this country that would make up for living in the most expensive, least competent, rarely sexy, frequently inebriated quagmire? I don't think that's
fair at all i think it's been blown out of all proportion 127 000 it's a lot but it's a very handsome bicycle shed it has a very fluorescent pink door on it like a marion keys novel and it's so big you could go inside and have adventures straight out of a chick lit story i don't know a dalliance with a rugged american or something if people look it up in terms of they'll see it's actually a cycle hub not a shed calling it a hub costs 50 grand extra but it means we can rent it out to nurses for three grand a month provided it can be classified as a back garden
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Chapter 3: What are the implications of overspending on public projects?
I've only just put on a suit to be a Paul Carr for the first time two weeks ago, and now I finally understand why Micheal Lehan was often spotted crying with despair on the 6-1 news, and trying to hide it with a Kerry high-pitched whine. Barry Linehan, I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike, RT News. Ah, Prime Minister, thank you for taking the time.
What with all the packing and everything. Packing, sir? Removal of vans and so forth. It must be very tedious here. Oh, I'm not going anywhere, sir. There's the spirit, admitting it at last. Good on you. You've nowhere to go. No, no, I... Leader of the least popular UK party since Boris Johnson's lockdown soiree. Look, I know the elections were a hiccup. A hiccup? More like an embolism.
Chapter 4: How does the conversation address political leadership challenges?
However, I believe I have a mandate and the charisma to sway the British people at the next general election, sir. I'll miss your outrageous sense of humour once you're gone. Your Majesty, can I make it clear, I do not intend to resign. Said with as much conviction as a prince claiming he can't sweat. Oh, come on, dear boy, it's over. What? Send in the next one, I say.
I want to be a record-breaking royal, you see. A what? Mummy had 15 PMs and I'm almost at four. I'm going through PMs faster than Big Ben. Four, sir? You can't be counting Liz's trust. She barely completed the free trial version of being Prime Minister. Well, it still counts.
Chapter 5: What humorous comparisons are made regarding political figures?
Now, don't dilly-dally. It really is time to get going, man. Oh. Well, Carter and I have seen the writing on the wall. Well, of course you have. You're in a palace. There's all sorts scribbled on the walls here. No, I'm... Fidei defense are here, no entry there, and that message on the bathroom door... Are out of order? Stephen Fry did coke here, I think is what it says.
Right, well, you can be assured I shan't be snorting drugs, sir. Pity. It might warm the deathly pallor about your countenance. Excuse me? Still, I don't know what the sign says about it, and poor Aunt Margaret hasn't lived to tell the tale. Oh, did I?
Chapter 6: How does the episode explore the concept of leadership and accountability?
I really tried, you know, to be a good Prime Minister. It still ended up worse than Boris who wasn't even trying at all. How did you muck it up, Sue? I can't tell, sir. I thought if I stood there doing as little as possible with the look of a man who urgently needs to throw up, I would achieve my childhood dream as a barely remembered one-term Prime Minister.
What's this about a challenge from Andy Burnham? We can't have a PM called Andrew. No. It would only re-trigger one's reflux. I thought I'd squashed him, but somehow Burnham beckons, in which case it's curtains for me or perhaps blinds, whichever one appeals more to Conservative voters. Right, well, unless there's anything else, would you like me to pass on any message to your successor?
Yes, let them know Larry the Cat only hisses at people who renege on election promises. Right. The floorboards in the upstairs flat creak loudly, giving you little time to hide under your desk when aides come looking for decisions to be made. I see.
Chapter 7: What are the reactions to proposed policies and political promises?
And I'm sorry I hadn't time to replace the Bojo gold wallpaper. Well, if that's everything, I'm afraid we won't be meeting again, so I have something for you. Please, Your Majesty, this isn't the Reform Party. I couldn't possibly accept five million pounds on... Don't be ridiculous. The Crown only has that kind of money for special occasions like... Oh. ...settling lawsuits or exiling brothers.
Well, in that case, I'm happy to accept whatever you have to offer, sir. Uno, it's just a sick bag. You're what? Because you look like you're about to vomit. Ah, how I'll miss our little chats. Next! Go, Titanic! Okay, okay, it's the last day before the summer break. Here to give us all a good laugh before I finish up is Michael Healy-Ray.
Chapter 8: What closing remarks are made about the future of politics in Ireland?
Well, Katie, it's good to see a friendly face, all things considered. Go on, give us a bit of crack there. What are the gluten-free yahoos above and above doing now? Well, since I'm no longer in government, I am more concerned about local issues. Are you okay? Like the toilets at Tralee bus station. Tis only a disgrace. Sorry now, where's all the roaring and shouting, Michael? Come on.
Why aren't you doing a little jig and belting out? Take that back at your mortal enemies for micro-slides. Yerra, what would be the point? What? Tis only a diddind. Jeez, you're in a bad way, alright. Didditnil. I've heard you're barely doing clinics and you've even been looking sad at some of the funerals you've been going to. O'channis, o'channó!
Yeah I was a great minister Inside my field Many fields Okay My legacy will be The miles upon miles Of beautiful fences I've erected over the years Fences Grants for erecting fences Yeah I had erections From Killiebegs to Kinsale Wow It was a beautiful thing to behold Come here Have you spoken to Danny About it at all To hell with that Clamorg Whoa I never want to see him again
Okay, but the voice in my ear says a surprise guest is already on the line. Well, I won't be listening if it's that dullard and shaper on the line. Good evening, Kenny. I didn't realise I was ringing in to kill a petting farm for you have a little lash cut of a lamb there bleating and crying. You take that back, you great thundering pig of a man. Okay, okay, lads, please, would you just continue?
This is great stuff, lads. You're on the wireless, dribbling and bawling like a suckling calf, Michael. What? Daddy will be roaring in his grave at the carry-on. You're only a disgrace. You cost us the only chance I had in the big time, Daddy. And now all we have is our millions and billions in the refugee contracts, the mace, the postmaster's gig. the pub and the bus hire.
A few forests, a few farms, rentals, shares in the New York Times for some reason. Shares in the Kerry Group. The plant hire business student lets 28 properties in total, give or take, and nothing else in the white earthly world. But we still have each other, Michael. Stop! The heel and the ass stick together like shite on a rope. Well, I was the rope, Teddy. What did that make you?
The shite, Michael, and I can be once again. Sorry? Why don't we hook and match? Michael I won't hug you But I'll face you Like a real curryman What does that mean? You mean shoulder to shoulder At a stainless steel urinal What?
And one hand Propping us up in a wall Ah lads Harking a flame onto the floor And talking about the match But making no eye contact You're a f***ing But I missed you too You big loaf of a looter Ah Michael We were nipple babies in the cot Yeah And we've nipple babies We're lying on a stand Over power and land through no effort of their own at home. Ah, this is a great schmazzle, in fairness.
You wouldn't get this from two lefties. Just one more thing, Katie. Yes, Michael? The books. What's that? I forgot to mention the income I do get from me books. I some meant for the cash, that book, and I love him. The blood is thicker than water. And nobody's thicker than my brother Denny. Welcome to the last podcast of the season. I'm Simon. I'm Rex. I can't wait to do nothing in the summer.
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