Monthly Archives: April 2015

Peggy Lysaght Says YES to Equality

Peggy is gung- ho about the upcoming referendum on Same Sex Marriages. Honestly, the woman never ceases to amaze me. Wouldn’t you think now a woman in her late seventies wouldn’t contemplate anything other than a no vote? I mean at this hour of her age.  Instead of that, she’s got the whole gang of the Ladies Club and half the senior citizens(so far)all voting Yes. Lourda, of course. is doing her usual sitting on the fence business – whinging about her church says no and she can’t see herself going against the Pope and shure, haven’t we civil partnerships and isn’t that enough for us for the moment. She knows, she says that she should do it for my sake but Rome wasn’t built in a day blah, blah, blah. Mind you, I wouldn’t be surprised if Peggy persuades her into the Yes camp before it’s all over – the woman is amazing. (Ah jeez, Peggy is amazing, not Lourda, Lourda is just a giant pain in the nether regions)

Well, to be honest, I’d expect nothing else from Lourda Kennefick. After all this is the very same woman who voted Fianna Fáil in the last election. Imagine after all the damage they’d done to the country, the woman still goes out and votes for Seanín the Leprechaun Sheridan.. Ah of course, Séanín is not a fecking leprechaun. He’s called that to distinguish him from all the other Sheridans in the parish – the place is black with them. No, you couldn’t depend on Lourda to save your life. You can be sure up she’d come with some excuse why she couldn’t save you.

But God bless Peggy, she says people like me are as entitled to get married as anyone else. Marriage now she says wouldn’t be her cup of tea. In fact, she says she goes down on her knees every night to thank the good Lord that he never saw fit to bless her with the married state. But who is she to deny anyone else the sacrament of matrimony? She says if Jimeen of the Snows from up the hill was able to get married, anyone should be entitled to. Jimeen is a farmer that met his wife below at the mart in the village. He was selling his pigs and she was selling her pigs and over the smell of peg shite, romance blossomed. You’d never see him but he’s daubed with pig shite and the smell off him, if you were unfortunate enough to be standing next to him at the checkout would nearly knock you. His wife is nearly as bad. But there’s pots of money there and there’s nothing smells sweeter, Peggy says than the smell of money and isn’t she right?

Not only is Peggy canvassing around the village but she’s got huge posters up in her front windows so the whole village knows what side she’s on. She’s like a tsumani when she gets going. I’m telling you if the rest of the population are as exercised about equality as Peggy is, we’ll be home and dry on the 22nd of May.

Hup there now, ya boya.



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Parcel Ireland’s Own Magazine

Great to be part of the Memory section in Ireland’s Own April 3rd issue with my piece ‘Parcel’  Hope readers enjoyed it.

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