Uma o'Gil copyright 2008-0012 xcrp't
Let's cut the BS and, since we're on, here's a category The Herald certainly didn't fail to feature at every opportunity, the new top drawer elite that's stamped its mark on Ireland's imagination: drum roll for the new heroes of our times tada! ...The construction magnates. The crane maniacs. Them lovable movers and shakers... always engaged in sneaky acquisitions and cheeky counter acquisitions:
"Now then. Say you buy me The Shelbourne and I buy you St-Stephen's Green, how's that working for you?
-Call that a deal? Who you think you're talking to, pal! Who's the one bottling the Liffey and selling it back to Yank tourists here? You, or me?
-OK OK, so what about... what about I throw in the entry code to the Dail and the thirtieth of April? Fore!
-Riiiight that might just about clinch it but... But then -hear me out here- I'll throw in Balyfermot Central's golf course, Rosanna Davidson, Dun Laoghaire's yacht club and in exchange... in exchange I get the Jackie Yeats's "Water lilies", the Abrakadabra kebab chain, and the new airport terminal!
-Not without the Jackie Skelly gyms you don't!
-I see. You wanna play hard ball wid me, 'sthat it? Well well well... Chew this over pal: scrap my last offer. Forget it, too late! How about I give you instead... my champion greyhound Kiki, a trip down memory lane for two, still Rosanna Davidson, a hearty hello and a couple of cranes in mint condition to boot -How's that sound now? More acceptable?
-What about Jackie Skelly's?
-You really fancy them do you? Right, but then I want my name on the Declaration of Independence!
-With or without your photo?
-Don't be daft -they didn't have cameras in 1916! Now on a postage stamp though... we may have a deal here.
-Hmm now let me think... Let me think, I smell a rat... You sure know how to drive a hard bargain! What about the three little pigs, by the way? You still own them?
-Only half half with McDermo.
-Say you throw in one of the pigs -you sort it out with McDermo- and in return I get your son to play for Ireland at the next Euros. They need a midfielder, leave it to me.
-Deal!
-Spit on it!
-Now wait a second though... I suppose ten sunny days are out of the question?
-.... That could be arranged.
-The right of way anywhere in town?
-Agreed also, but then I take back the thirtieth of April and I get the final edit on your autobiography in return. Spit on it! (Change of clubs, new set of balls.)
-Not so fast, not so fast, that's a big ask that... My legacy eh! Can't be messin' with that! Now what about... What about I agree on principle but then let's say I want the grey squirrels in town and you get the keep the red ones?
-That may work for me, but only pending a tax credit on nuts that your TDs won't oppose in the Dail.
-What about my arse your face?
-Rain on your wedding day?
-Ten thousand knives when all you need is a spoon?
-Are you for real? Want me to go and spill the beans about Shergar?
-OK OK or -Tell you what. Here's a mutually satisfactory one... Say we split the GAA fifty-fifty: half the teams play on my days, and half play when you say.
-Consider it done!
-Plus an audience with Joanne Cantwell.
-Holy feck! Don't push it now, I'd have to consult with me lawyers on that one!"
(tobecontinued)
