I realise that with all the twitter and FB guff that has been around since the #fleg debacle and the ripples of spleen, golf balls, paint bombs and broken glass, some people not from “Norn Iron” will be confused as to what the F**K is going on.So here is a brief summary of Ireland North and South “Fleggery” for my non-culshie chums.
Ireland is an island to the west of Britain, but Northern Ireland is just off the mainland – not the Irish mainland, the British mainland.
The capital of Ireland is Dublin. It has a population of a million people, all of whom will be shopping in Norn Iron this afternoon. They travel to Norn Iron because it is in the North, which is not part of Ireland and as such is cheaper.
Belfast is the capital of Northern Ireland. It has a population of half a million, half of whom have houses in Donegal. Donegal is in the north but not in the North. It is in the bit of the south that is further North than the North.
There are two parliaments in Ireland. The Dublin parliament is called the Dáil, an Irish word meaning the place banks go to steal taxpayers’ money. The one in Belfast is called Stormont, an Anglo-Saxon word meaning “place of grey men who fart through their mouths”. Their respective jurisdictions are defined by the border, an imaginary line on the map to show fuel launderers where to dump chemical waste.
Travel can be confusing because Ireland (north and south) is the only country in the world with two M1 motorways. The one in the North goes west to avoid the south and the one in the South goes north to avoid the price of drink.
We have two types of democracy in Ireland. Dublin democracy works by holding a referendum and then allowing the government to judge the result. If the government thinks the result is wrong, the referendum is held again. Twice in recent years the government decided the people’s choice was wrong and ordered a new referendum. Belfast democracy works differently. It has a parliament with no opposition, so the government is always right. This system generates envy in many world capitals, especially Dublin.
Ireland has three economies – northern, southern and black. Only the black economy is in the black. The north is red,white and blue simultaneously and the south is just red very very very red.
The peace process was introduced 10 years ago because republicans complained that “Provisional” and “Continuity” IRAs meant there were big words, hard to spell and the walls in Belfast and Derry were too small to fit all those letters in. Since,we the taxpayers were against the idea of building lots of wider low rent housing to accomodate the slogans we decided to have a “peace process” a by product of which was the introduction of the “Real” IRA which was easier to spell and left more room for pictures.
“Flegs” is the local patois for Flags. A lot of people not from Norn Iron think that we think that Flegs are really important. This is not in fact the case. Flegs are not the important thing at all,at all,at all.. it is the Fleg Poles that are important.
Fleg Poles are an ancient fertility symbol, a Lingam, a symbol of the eternal procreative germ part of the indivisible two-in-oneness of male and female, the passive space and active time from which all life originates. The Orange Order is a secret sect of Fleg Pole worshippers. They revere the Fleg Pole and try at all times to be penis-like in it’s honour. They regard it as a scared right and duty rooted (if you pardon the unintentional pun) in the traditions of generation after generation of fundamental cockishness. Part of this reverence is the flying of Flegs on the Fleg Pole,for without the , the fleg pole is sterile and stands ineffectually firing blanks into the blue skies of Ulster.
This is why Flegs on Fleg Poles are so important and worth all the fuss, to do otherise would meana quick slip into a state of symbolic castrastion.
So gentle reader when you see rioting on the news and hear the newscaster say “It is all over the taking down of a flag” remember that standing erect on Belfast City Hall is a poor unsatisfied Fleg Pole, it’s string twanging sadly in the December wind, singing a sad song of unrequited Flaggishness into the heavens ….