'Hey when I grow up, I'm gonna be a politician and take brown bag bribes and then become 'Taoiseach' or Prime Minister of Ireland...and no tribunal will ever convict me'.
'Hey, and if they do question me about the bribe money, I'll just say that I won it on a horse, whose name I disremember, and I was paid out in cash, and no one will raise an eyebrow'.
Hey, I'll leave me house, me car, me bank accounts, me wife and me 2 young girls..and yes, in Ireland, yes holier than thou .mother-effin oireland., I'll take on a very public mistress and bring her places with other lads and their wives and mistresses...and no one will even say boo..'!
'Hey, and when me girls grow up, one of them will marry a millionaire popstar...and Hello Magazine will pay me for their wedding photos, and the other one, me favourite, will become a best selling chic-lit writer, making millions on her drivel'!!!
'Hey, I will run the country in times of unprecedented 'Boom'...(I love that word, usually follows a bang)...and I'll make lots of dosh for me and especially for my buddies, and I'll spend everything the country has made in de decade of decadence, on poor investments and jobs for deboys, and just when they think 'it cannot get any better than this' I'll prove then right and pull out of office, just right before the shoite hits the fan, but only to wild and exuberant praise and applause'.
'Hey, when I do retire, em' I mean resign, I will hand over the running of the country to an otherwise smart and nice guy, a suckling pillock from down de country, who will completely fall flat on his face, before he even gets off the starting blocks, poor bollix'!
Oh, and my last prediction;
'Hey, when I'm done with all of that, and having done the country some service, I believe I am going to be appointed President of Ireland, hmm, maybe in 3 years time. Arais ins an Aras, Aris!
Watch this space!
Recession...what recession...a tour company just went bust in Dublin today...with 1200 paid bookings for people (with way too much money obviously, duh), to visit Santa...in ..wait for it...the North Pole, in Lapland @ €1,000+ per person...!
And tell me...ye well educated jung people of Ireland, since when did the feckin' North Pole sink south to shanggin' Lapland. Gimme a break!
Aah, I suppose if you swallowed the Bertie Fairy tale, you are entitled to still believe in Santa!
Recession my arse!