Michael Healy Rae*

I had forgotten how much this big turniphead annoyed me. It’s hard to believe that people like this can have any influence on Irish society. The Healy-Raes sum up all that’s rotten about the political system in Ireland: the cronyism, the careerism, the sheer fucking stupidity. Michael of course is a son of Jackie Healy Rae, the only Irish politician that can’t speak English. Jackie found Michael under a stone in his cabbage patch back in the seventies. He ran him under the tap, wiped him with some turpentine and stuck a cap on him. Ever since then, Michael has been learning at least one skill a day. As of this moment, he can:

• count to four using his fingers
• put on his cap
• build a medium sized wall
• throw parsnips out of his window
• ask for directions in French
• eat forty one cream eclairs in one sitting

Michael enjoys reading Enid Blyton books; not only does he like the heartwarming stories about talking toys and naughty cats but the man also lifts a lot of his policies and ideas from the books. You might remember Michael’s campaign back in 2001 to banish Golliwogs from the Lixnaw area after he received reports (in a dream of his) that housewives were going to their pantries in the morning, only to find that the mischievous scamps were making off with all the delicious apple pies. Michael has revealed in the past that his favourite movie is Killer Klowns from outer Space.

Here’s a little snippet of the big sweaty culchie talking about gay marriage:

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Michael ‘jusht cant undershtand why a man would want to marry a man.’ Neither can he undershtand why all his hair is falling out. His father tried to teach him how to put on his pants properly, but Michael still can’t get the hang of it. Instead I hear he paints a pair of trousers onto his bare legs to make things easier.

Michael is a very religious man; you’ll always find him on a Sunday down the back of his local church, chewing the cud with all the other filthy old simpletons. When mass is over, Michael’s usually the first out the door to go get his ice cream and Sunday World. Michael’s favourite columnist is  Paddy Murray, whose opinionated, pea-brained rants help culchies feel better about their self-hatred and general lack of intelligence.

Michael’s Best Friend

He did very well in holding onto his seat in the Killorglin constituency in the local elections a while back. My  sources inform me that Healy Rae ran a clever campaign, rounding up all 3,200 mentally retarded people living in the general Killorglin area on voting day and delivering them to the polls in order to cast their ballots. Two of these unfortunate people escaped from the loony van on the day and it is believed they are on a rape-spree around Kerry as we speak. However, those two votes weren’t enough to deprive Michael of his seat and in the end he received a total of 3,198 first preference votes.

Father Larry Dinny Johnjoe, Michael’s Great-Grandfather, pictured here at the infamous Killorglin sex abuse trial in 1957

Michael plans to deliver 100 new priests to Killorglin over the next ten years, which, although expected to cause a drastic increase in child abuse and teenage suicide in the area, will nevertheless result in 1.2% less crime and a staggering 20% decrease in vulgarity among teenagers.

To finish up, here are some choice quotes from this big hairy arseface:

“I don’t like pashta or any of that fancy auld shite, I jusht don’t undershtand why people would want to eat anything other than a blasht of potatoes. It worked well for our fathers, it’ll do us”

“The prieshts in the pasht did without a doubt do some terrible things to young children. But at the end of the day, we musht remember, the prieshts were representatives of our Lord Jesus Chrisht and who are we to deprive them of a blasht of abuse now and again. If it worked for our forefathers, what harm will it do us”

“I remember in the old days, you grew up in a town and you were a part of the community; you undershtood that your home was your home and it was up to you to become a successful man. Nowadays you have these blacks and these people from every sort of place and they’re coming in here in their thousands and they’re raping and shtealin across the land. Now, I’m no racist but enough’s enough at the end of the day. They tend to shtick to their own and they’ll never undershtand the simple pleasure of a game of camogie or a blasht of sheep-shearin down at Tomás Behan’s farm.”

“I didn’t ever have any interest in computers or any of that world wide webs because, let’s call a spade a spade here; if God wanted us to be playing bebo on these television screens he would have made computers for us.”

“I’m no sexist but god almighty the amount of nonsense we do hear from these feminists. In my day a woman knew her place and she performed to the best of her abilities in bringing up the children and cooking the dinner of an evening. And by God weren’t they happier in their way. Nowadays all I hear about is these women working in offices who want to have their cake and eat it. Ladies, jusht accept that men and women are different and if God had wanted men and women to be the same then he would have made us all the same. Or something.”

*Contents of this post not intended to be taken seriously.