Dairygolds Demise - inevitable evolution, bad management or worse?
Does anyone think it odd that Kerry Co-op have snapped up all of Dairygold's consumer brands on the cheap (€140 million, some €25 million less than book-value last year), while Dairygold was being managed by Jerry Henchy, a former senior Kerry Co-op Executive?

Henchy, colloquially known as 'Hatchet Henchy' for his penchant for trimming costs, was head-hunted from Kerry Co-op by Dairygold's Board of Directors, as their new CEO, some 6 years ago. He was fired last week under mysterious circumstances from his CEO post in Dairygold, having already been let go from REOX, a mutant Dairygold subsidiary in January 2009. Henchy is now rumoured to be in receipt of a €3 million golden-boot payment from Dairygold, having led that Co-op to near bankruptcy during the Celtic Tiger boom. If that exit payment is even half that much, then at the very least Dairygold owe a full explanation of his sacking and remuneration to their 10,000 shareholders.

In the 6 years since he was appointed boss of Dairygold. Henchy has presided over the effective emasculation of Dairygold, the pride of the Golden Vale co-operatives. He has eliminated most of their production capacity, laid off 2/3rds of their employees and run up extra-ordinary debt under the subsidiary company, REOX Holdings, where net debt rose from €21 million to €148 million in the year to September 2008. Dairygold's own debt has risen by 95% to €70 million in the same period. Henchy's final act as CEO was selling off Dairygold's valuable consumer brands to their arch-competitor and his former employer, Kerry Co-op, at a discount after the competition authority held up the deal for 12 months. Dairygold last week announced a cut in milk prices paid to their farmer/suppliers just when rumours are rife that Dairygold is insolvent and may be taken over by the banks.

The whole ethos of the Irish Farmers Co-operative Society movement is demeaned by this debacle, which seems to have had the active approval of Dairygold's Board of Directors, most of whom have been in office since before Henchy's appointment as CEO. Call a spade a spade here.

Perhaps he is just the 'patsy' for a failed power trip by Dairygold's Board of Directors? Most other large Co-ops have 'gone public' and the resultant rise in share values has helped farmers survive.

Dairygold's shareholders look like they will be left with nothing but debt! Some questions need to be asked, and answered;

Why was Henchy sacked and why was he paid a lump sum from Dairygold and/or REOX?
Have Deloitte and Touche, Dairygold's auditors, any comment on this? (They were after all the shareholder's watchdog agency during Henchy's 6-year tenure as CEO of Dairygold and REOX). Do the Banks now effectively own Dairygold?
What is their position as regards the Board of Directors of Dairygold?
Does the Minister for Agriculture, Brendan Smith, endorse what has happened to one of the 5 biggest players in Ireland's agri-sector?
Is the Junior Minister for Agriculture, Ned O'Keeffe, himself a substantial Dairygold shareholder and supplier, satisfied with Dairygold's current state of affairs?
Is the Competition Authority really satisfied that Kerry Co-op's owning so much of the nations food brands is a good thing?
Are Dairygold's 10,000 farmers-shareholders satisfied that their interests as Shareholders and as Co-op members, have been well served by Dairygold's Management and Board of Directors?

http://www.farmersjournal.ie/myJournal/forum/content/dairygolds-demise-inevitable-evolution-bad-management-or-worse

Best Begging Letter Ever

You are probably like me, receiving dozens of unsolicited begging e-mails every week, mostly from shady characters with poor grammar from sub-saharan Africa. However, I have noticed a new kid on the beggar's block recently, one who stands out from the crowd. I love this guy...his name is Muda. (see his most recent missive to me below) it's his best effort yet.



Such drama, such compassion, such creativity, such greed! A complete change from the usual jailed Nigerian Finance Minister's daughter, or Ghanian plane-crash victim's unclaimed funds. Muda has moved to complete new territory and introduced a whole new set of villians and victims, princes and paupers. This could be a thriller novel or even a movie the way he writes. It set me thinking on a new project!



I am seriously considering compiling the 'Best Begging Letters Ever' from all around the world, not just Nigeria and Ghana. I might publish the book under the same title. I think it would make for some really interesting reading and feel it would be a best-seller. Just think, it is bound to lift everyones hearts, what with this recession thing and everyone losing their money, we all need a glimmer of hope. What could be more hopeful than a 'Beggar'? They are ever hopeful, posess an ever optimistic nature and never accept rejection. A book on this subject would make a hot pick on Oprah. It could be a must-read bible in every Bathroom in the developed, now decimated world.



What do you think? I only need about a hundred grand advance to get started. Any Angel Investor out there? Publisher? Entrepreneur? Banker? I will share the royalties!If you are interested I will send my trusted aide and guard to pick up the cash (sorry, I don't accept checks). You will know him when he calls...he blocks most of the light in any standard front door.





From: Muda <rivers@virtuocities.com>Sent: Thu, 2 Apr 2009 12:55 am
Subject: Investment of $25 Million USD in your Country.

Hello,
I am contacting you via your email address because of the urgent need to keep this discussions and further actions private and confidential between both of us alone. Therefore, i solicit for your reliable assistance in the collection and investment of my funds.

I am Muda Hakeem, from the sultanate of Brunei in South East Asia. I want you to visit the websites below for a better insight and understanding into what necessitated my contacting you:-

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/670959.stm
http://www.asiaweek.com/asiaweek/magazine/2000/0310/nat.brunei.jefri.html
http://www.brudirect.com/DailyInfo/News/y2k/May2006/230506.htm

As you may know from the international media above, the sultan had accused my father of financial mismanagement and impropriety running into Billion of dollars of state funds. The economic set back in Brunei was as a result of the Asian financial crisis that made my our firm Amedeo Development Company (i was Managing Director) and government owned Brunei Investment Company (controlled by my father) to be declared bankrupt during my fathers tenure in office.

However my father was falsely accused by the Sultan of financial misappropriation and in year 2000 a Brunei court ordered the seizure of all our bank accounts and private properties including a crude oil export refinery which where all confiscated by the sultanate. In May 2006, Prince Jefri lost an appeal to retain our properties, assets and Bank accounts which the sultan and security operatives wants forfeited to the government. During this unfortunate period I was still serving as Managing Director of my fathers own firm, Amedeo Development Company. I was advised to evacuate my immediate family outside the sultanate to avoid further prosecution from the sultan and his security operatives, but before I could do that I was placed under house arrest via a Court Order of which i was named co-defendant.

Before my arrest, I went ahead to dispatch some funds US$500 Million under special diplomatic arrangement. The money where packaged into metallic trunk Boxes and deposited in various Warehouses abroad for safe keeping abroad. Hence, I seek your good assistance to invest these funds deposited in various Bonded Warehouse into profitable investment in your country to facilitate future survival for my family abroad. My trusted aid and guard is still loyal to me, he would be my contact if there is any document I need to send to you which would enable you collect the boxes of money on my behalf.

The purpose of my contacting you is because you live in a country with a stable economy where one can invest. On receipt of your response after which we shall discuss in details the modalities for seeing this project through. If however, you are not disposed to assist, kindly forward to a reliable associate or relative or friend whom you deem fit to rescue this transaction from total loss if the location of the funds are discovered by security operatives.

I am counting on your absolute confidentiality, transparency, honesty and trust while looking forward to your prompt reply towards a swift conclusion of this proect. If you cant assist me please forward to any of your family relatives OR business associate who can render me this service.

I await your Urgent Reply.

Best Regards,
MUDA.

You have to remember I was a member of the F C A, ( secret service division )

Yes, It is true, I used to love being out on the range near Athlone with the FCA, hefting our heavy Lee Enfield, Mark 111, 3o3 rifles down to the firing line, 300 yards, being issued with the coveted rounds, shiny brass cylinders, topped with so-sharp too-pretty bullets, waiting your turn to shoot. Then, you are up, safety on, loading the rounds into the z-sprung magazine, unlocking and locking the bolt onto the first round, safety off, lying prone as the officer barks out the command, 'Gasrai, gasrai, aire, at your targets in front, in your own, time, 5 rounds, rapid fire.'

I have 2 trophies for winning western division gunnery competitions, from a long way back, but the memory, is just like yesterday....that gun, my gun, the worn stock, polished mahogany nestled against your jaw and mouth, your nose smelling traces of trench-smells in exotic killing grounds like the Somme and Ypres, waiting for the mist to clear, peering over the parapet through the raised sights, sensing the wind, easing the trigger back at the end of an expelled breath, the accurate tight grouping on the dim silouhette target, second pressure, BANG!

Jeez, you'd be deaf as a post afterwards and the bruise on your clavicle, and the weight of the thing, the physicality, the smell of cordite in your nostrils and the metallic taste in your mouth, and the piercing hammer-bells in your ears, and then, afterwards, the ritual comfort of pouring 8 pints of boiling water through the barrell. 'Same amount of boiling water as blood in your body, Private', wondering how they did that in 1917 in a filthy trench with no electric kettle and afterwards, the oiled pull-through string and wad, stowed in your tunic pocket, like a scapular!

And then the feed, in Kinsellas Hotel, awkward in our uniforms, snake-guard high boots, laced to the top, air eagla na h-eagla agus na peist, the never ending laces drooping like anacondas below our football socks, hardly camoflage colours but stopped the chaffing, our appetites too young to join Eamon and Tom in topping up the bill with Guinness. Imagine looking forward to sharing two weeks in a tent full of over-sexed cadets, amid the sand-dunes at Finner, just so we could fire the Gustav Machine, the Bren Gun and the Energa Grenade. 17 year old Boys playing WW1 soldiers, with real 1918 rifles and real bullets in Ireland in the 1970's.

Y'know....watching all the bang bang movies, you know that the action is fake...there is no way that anyone can function with the bells ringing in your ears and the recoil...then one day we had to cover the Butts...resetting the targets and pasting the holes over them...real rounds buffeting the sand-hill over your heads...the ping and poof...and the absolute knowlege that you would never hear the offending shot were you the target...just the carnage...puts those 2 unfortunate British soldiers and the Polish Pizza delivery men in Antrim in stark perspective...something our kids sadly lack with the TV and movies de-personalising violence.

Curlews call

We celebrated (if thats the right word) my sister Sheila's first anniversary on Sunday last, January 18, 2009, in Sligo, and Joe her husband did us, and Sheila proud. There was a fair scattering, if that's the right term, of her diverse friends there, indeed they came from all over and we all enjoyed the occasion, albeit that it had to be sad to be real, and despite the levity and the conviviality, it was indeed sad. The melting snow glistened down Ben Bulben's face reflecting our tears as we paid our respects to Sheila at the quiet hillside cemetary in Rosses Point, with only the calling of the curlews and seabirds in the long grass of the dunes and rythmic dunta of the atlantic waves on her favourite beach as accompanyment to our soft prayers. The crispness of the air made the fresh, blooming flowers all the more poignant on her grave. Sheila, our rose, is gone but never forgotten, especially with family and friends remembering her constantly as they do, visiting with her year round in her little spot overlooking the Rosses and Sligo Bay.

Co-incidentally, just last Friday, on a similarly frosty morning, I found a dead Curlew on my doorstep in Barna. I opened the front door and there it was, on my doorstep, cold and stiff, yet dignified and proud, noble I suppose. It surprised me, the arbitrary oddness of finding it there in the first place, not on the grass, not on the driveway, on my doorstep. Not just the stark finality, but also the beauty of this very private bird, that I'd often heard, glimpsed, though never actually seen, the long curved beak and the extraordinary rich, though muted, understated, ordinary-looking brown plumage, and the realisation of the mystery of the bird, dead now, no longer the living spirit of the bog and hills round my house, overlooking Galway bay and the Burren, gone, but not gone, still living, replaced by another curlew, and then another, as nature continues the cycle of life.

And later, having buried the dead bird in the bog behind my house, I thought of Sheila and of her own love of nature, her understanding of it, her derived wisdom, her faith and her spirit, now at peace on the little isthmus of Rosses Point, nestled between Ben Bulben and Knocknarea, her haven of mystery and spirituality, and now eternity, punctuated by the plaintive cry of the curlew from the dunes.

Yeats, no stranger to Rosses Point, wrote 'O Curlew cry no more in the air, or only to the waters in the West...', but that is too sad, so instead, I thought I would share this beautiful and reassuring piece from the American poet, Robert Frost. Frost was so in touch with nature, the cycles and the nuances of it and he wrote this beautiful piece about his wife, after she had died, and how her voice was now part of the symphony of birdsong, in that he subscribed to the the theory that birds are believed to absorb some subleties of what they hear and incorporate a minute part of that into their own vocabulary, or repertoire. I like to think of Sheila's spirit being incorporated in our own wild birds' song or in the beauty of the bog cotton, or the movement of the winds that blows constantly on the western shores of Ireland, for I sense her here, on occasions, unbidden, welcomed always.

Never Again Would Bird's Song Be the Same

He would declare and could himself believe
That the birds there in all the garden round
From having heard the daylong voice of Eve
Had added to their own an oversound,
Her tone of meaning but without the words.
Admittedly an eloquence so soft
Could only have had an influence on birds
When call or laughter carried it aloft.
Be that as may be, she was in their song.
Moreover her voice upon their voices crossed
Had now persisted in the woods so long
That probably it never would be lost.
Never again would birds' song be the same.
And to do that to birds was why she came.

Robert Frost

Apropos, given the day that was in it... and then the next day watching Obama's inauguration as 44th President it is perhaps a timely coincidence...Frost was 86 when he spoke and performed a reading of his poetry at the inauguration of President John F. Kennedy on January 20th, 1961. He died 2 years later on January 29th, 1963.

Fortuna Favours the Brave

A little story from the west of Ireland to chase the recession blues away!
My brother Paul's dog, (or rather bitch), Fortuna just won the Oaks at the National Coursing Finals in Clonmel last Wednesday (February 4, 2009). Paul shares ownership of Fortuna with Brigid Frank and Donie Reidy, two great friends of our family, and yes, you've guessed it, they are all three stark raving mad into Greyhounds.

In keeping with her name, (taken from the Roman Goddess of Luck, who is usually represented by a beggar-woman), Fortuna was an out-and-out rank outsider. She wasn't rated at all, weighing in as she did at only 65lbs, (tiny for a coursing greyhound). For good luck, the unassuming trio backed Fortuna on the opening day, Monday, with a tenner each way @ 100/1, with the bookies, (you do the math). They backed her, just so she wouldn't feel unloved!!...and that was only the icing on the cake.

They had bred Fortuna themselves in Loughrea, using my late dad's old kennels and from a pup she was reared out in Dalystown yard, just as was Dad's uber-dog, Knockash Rover. (He won the Derby in Clonmel in 1981). A great tradition continued and now our family and our town have been blessed to have captured both Classics, albeit in nearly 70 years of trying. I think Dad would have been pleased, as indeed would our late uncle Michael Bourke from Kilrush, who passed away at this same meeting, just 2 years ago, a coursing man to his boots.

A whole coach-load of Loughrea Coursing fans made the trip down to Clonmel to support Fortuna and their cheers, when she raised the final flag, could probably have been heard all the way back in Loughrea. Another Loughrea dog owned by the Mahonys was beaten in the Derby quarter final, so the travelling support had plenty to cheer for. They all travelled back in convoy and finally arrived home very late last night, having celebrated earlier in Hotel Minella in Clonmel and in Stapletons in Borrisoleigh.

A bar-full of coursing supporters had been waiting all night for them in Connollys pub and many there were crying with the emotion of the win when Brigid finally raised the winners jacket. It was quite an occasion, very moving. Happy Days. Something at least to chase away the gloom and doom for a moment!

Take a minute to read this beautifully written article by Diarmuid O'Flynn and share the moment. (My thanks to The Examiner, who always give great coverage to Coursing). http://www.irishexaminer.com/sport/idmhqlmhsn/#mon

Willie O'Dea and the Irish Submarine, Asgard 2

In 1896, at the age of 53, having himself emigrated on a 'Coffin Ship' from Liscannor in county Clare, the Irish inventor, John P. Holland presented the US navy with a working submarine capable of spending hours underwater and of making 7 knots when travelling on the surface. It was called, ironically enough, 'The Plunger'.

Mind you, 'The Plunger' was following on the duck-steps of two other submersible vessels, 'The Intelligent Whale' and 'The Alligator', both of which 'boats' sank during trials, with the loss of all aboard. Holland was a visionary, effectively seeing off the challenges of another submarine inventor, the aptly named, Simon Lake, and also being the first to conceive of employing electric motors and the internal combustion engine to power a submarine. Holland also invented several torpedoes, employing the use of gyroscopes and pendulums for guidance.

However, the inventors lot proved not to be a happy one, and John was to see his own company sink into oblivion owing to the reticience of the US Navy to invest in such 'dastardly and ungentlemanly' technology, before he died, penniless, in 1914, a year that saw Germany, using a modified version one of Hollands rejected designs, launch a fleet of powerful U-Boats on the helpless Lusitania and the British merchant marine in general.



Today the Minister for Defence, Willie O'Dea, announced that he would not spend €2 million of the insurers money in salvaging the Irish sail-training yacht, 'The Asgard', which having sank in September 2008, off the NW coast of France, now lies in wait on the ocean floor, 83 metres below the surface, yet another Irish submarine, denied a future by an uncaring government and navy. John Holland would not be proud of this decision to leave a perfectly good, Tyrell/Arklow-built wooden-traditional yacht on the bottom of the Bay of Biscay.



The Asgard 1, named for the Norse god of the sea, was ownedby Erskine Childers, who after years of research published in 1913, but only on a spying mission on the Germans celebrated in the book, 'The Riddle of the Sands'. Later on, in a gun smuggkling opoeration, The Asgard landed weapons destined for the war againset colonial Britain.

Top Ten Tips to Improve the Economy - My part in our downfall

I thought I would share some ideas for a better Ireland with you, ideas that I have distilled from the deafening twitter that is universal across all media. These ideas are not comprehensive, nor do they offer any instant panacea for our economic malaise, but they are in my opinion, sound, sensible and workable measures that would ease some of the current pain. Perhaps the Dail might debate and evaluate these and several other of the many sensible economic issues that I have heard voiced, so we will know that the Government is really serious about trying to improve our economy. Why not encourage the public to submit ideas to a cross-party committee. Then have each of say the top 100 ideas roughly costed and then published and debated in the Dail. Prevent the 'vested interests' (Unions, Departments, Industry experts etc ) from nay-saying any idea unless in a transparent and public forum. You might be surprised how supportive the public would be:Here goes my ideas;

My Top Ten

1. Immediately reduce VAT on food and clothes to 15%, until Jan 2010. That would slow the cross border shopping and maintain jobs in Retail in the Republic.

2. Charge all OAP's with Free Travel Passes €2 for any trip on bus or train over 10 miles in duration. The extra €'s generated would save over 200 drivers jobs.

3. Introduce a €4-per-week child bus pass in all urban areas. This would encourage school-goers bus use and reduce car use, while savin g the average parent €5 - €6 per week to boot. (95cents per trip on city buses)

4. Pay Bus, Train, Dart and Luas Drivers 38 hours pay for only 30 hours work. Pay no overtime. Take on additional drivers to do the additional hours. Increase employment without costing the tax-payer.

5. Force ESB to lower electricity prices for manufacturing industries and reflect the true lower cost of Oil and Gas while making Ireland more competitive. (did you see the adverts where ESB are giving us a 1%(?) reduction 'cause they sold off some old plant recently...no mention of the cost of an oil barrell plummeting from $150 to $45 in the last 6 months though).

6. Force ESB to take in electricity onto it's grid from all Eco producers, even from small ones and thus reduce our reliance on Oil and Gas. Pay a small premium to such small suppliers.

7. Have Green Party encourage Government immediately to make all Insulation, Eco-heat and Solar and Electric generator products rated at Zero VAT. Encourage us to invest in our cold but expensive homes and offices, and in the meantime help keep more building industry workers employed.

8. Have ESB take on additional staff to work the overtime hours that the ESB workers consider their entitlement. Most ESB power station workers make double or triple the average industrial wage with this overtime. Increase employment and reduce electricity cost.

9. If the Green party are so keen to have us use CFC Bulbs, then why are the y not being manufactured here. Set up a PPP company to make the new 'better bulb' here in Ireland, not in China. then the Government could appeal to our sense of patriotism to have us buy them.

10. Re-open the Greencore plant in Carlow to process beet again, this time for bio-fuel. Tell Greencore it is in the national interest to do so, and keep the farmers busy and employ our workers in producing bio-fuel from a natural Irish product. Tell Greencore it is not in the national interest for them to re-develop Carlow into another useless housing estste full of the unemployed. Have CIE convert all busses and trains from imported Diesel to use home-grown Bio-Fuel thus creating an immediate market for this renewable and lower carbon-footprint fuel.

....and Finally...on a lighter note;

Having listened to Brian Cowen's address to the Dail this evening, I am convinced something about him has to change. I don't believe he even believed his rhetoric. Perhaps he could attend a make-over class, kit himself out in bright new clothes and deliver one 'happy' speech each week, on any topic....on each Sunday morning, so that the Monday morning papers news wouldn't all be so darned blue. If he lightens up a bit, maybe we might follow.