Is the Irish debt a problem?

By Guest Author on November 29th, 2010.
Filed Under:Humor
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So Ireland goes bust ,and takes with it the southern European countries. Tense behind the scenes meetings have been taking place, and Ireland have been saying,’We do not need your money,we do not want your money’. The European big boys say,’ You must have our money, if you do not have the money we will give you, we will all die’.

If only I could have the same concerns given to me. ‘We have some money for you, you can pay it back much later on’. I do not get these phone calls, not even the threat, that if I do not take the money, someone else will suffer.

For a moment, lets pretend we are in the snug, the quieter back room of a traditional Irish bar. In this room, there are serious discussions, and arguments, about politics, and the very nature of life. The main bar, is different, it is a drinking bar, here they can drink, Irish stout, in very large quantities.. They can drink through the evening , and still stand at the end, and sing a good Irish song.

The quieter room, is home for the evening, for the Irish ministers. They are all sitting around a farmhouse table. They are laughing, and joking amongst themselves,whilst they play a card game. All of them can cheat, without being noticed. The farmhouse tables that the Irish bars use, simply are the best type of table to use, at they blend with the traditional atmosphere of the bar.

The Irish Finance minister, known to his friends as Big Bertie, puts down his cards, and shouts out, ‘ The European boffins can go to hell’, everyone laughs, ‘We do not need them, what do they know about the Irish,they do not care for us, they think we are a backward country’. ‘Lets go listen to the band’.

They went into the main bar, where the band were going for it. They are playing all the tunes of the day, and also playing the traditional folk songs. They were so loud, that the bottles on the welsh dresser were jumping up and down to the music. The singer, who not only had trained at music school, but also sang sweetly in the choir every Sunday, was shouting as loud as he could down the microphone. The men and women , were drinking their stout, direct from the bottle. The floor was bumping up and down. ‘I will tell you where they can shove their money’, shouted the drummer, ‘have a drink on me’.

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