Hey, Gays! Leave our Ronan alone!

Dear Mr. Mullen,

I write to you today in solidarity with you and your plight, old stick. Much like Mr. David Quinn, you are of stout, Catholic (if not desperatly The Rural) stock and I am loathe to see the dangerous homosexooals of the liberal, lefty press teeing off on you.  You sir, are not one who fears The Gay. Rather, you stand up in front of them and, well, inconvenience them for a bit during the Civil Partnership Bill in the Seanaid. Bloody good show, old trout! Futile, obviously, but having to wait around for a bit before it got put through really stuck it to them, damn their flamboyant souls!

The Gay. Pictured celebrating the passing of the Civil Partnership Bill. (Artists Rendition)

After such heroics against The Gay in the Seanaid you’d think the thoughtless bastards would have some gratitude after you tried to save them from themselves but no – they’re investigating you! What nonsense! The complainant (a left wing, liberal media loving, God hating atheist Gay, no doubt) wants you to be compelled to tell who told you that you should claim fraudulent expenses and uphold a moral standard of blah blah blah yackity shmackity.

When I think of those horrible people in the press and in the Seanaid lashing you with preconceived opinions and then stating said opinions as facts your squeezable hamster cheeks springs to my mind, and I weep, dear boy.

Was I at the celebration old trout, I would be on YOUR shoulders squeezing both your cheeks with joyous vigour!

Those that say that this is exactly what you did with The Gay Bill are just being arseholes, old stick. Arseholes. Pardon the profanity, but I use it because what is happening to you now, old boy, is a scandal. Who cares about Anglo getting €10 billion more that the proles will never see again – you feel wronged! This is important! And newsworthy!

The person that told you this – who totally exists, I should add and was in no way a shallow construct designed to get yourself back in the press to show you had opinions other than those based solely on The Gay, thus proving yourself as being more than a 2D ideologue tinged with failure after the CP Bill passed in what could well be an election year. (phew!) – deserves your protection old boy!

This corner of the Internets will always hold a warm welcome for you, old stick. Never forget that.

God Be With You Old Trout.

Yours, etc

Randall Harper

Ivor Callely, Ian O’ Doherty SCANDAL!

What ho, chaps! As a gentleman of standing in the upper echelons of society I often come into, shall we say, tender morsels of information that, should they be released, would cause ructions, old trout. Ructions!

Just today, for example, I came into the possession of two stunning morsels of salubrious information. The first?

Ivor Callely’s Phone Invoice Scandal!

The first envelope this morning contained one of the most sought after scraps of paper in the State. Suck on that, Fintan. Old Harper bests you again – I have it right here. Look upon this scanned JPEG and dispair, old trout. As the lower classes would say – suck it, bitches.

For God & St.Patrick

Dear Mr. Quinn,

Even though you are an esteemed writer for the Independent I have to proclaim you a peculiar fellow and, appropriately I suppose, you arouse peculiar feelings in ones waters. On one hand, you have the look of a man who, quite literally, has just stepped off the bus from Roscommon for your Christmas shopping and has a tinfoil wrap of hang sangwidges most definitely concealed on his person.

Snarf! Where's Penny's baiy? I need t'buy a new pair of illfitting jeaaaans that ownly cum' up t'me aaaankles baiy! Snarf!

Ghastly.

Yet on the other hand, you have a right knack of shoving it to Comrade Gilmore and Chums with your mighty Catholic roger. What sport!

Despite your suspicious, boggery looking potato head it would seem that you, Mr. Quinn, are, in fact, a jolly fine chap. Hatred of Comrade Gilmore and The Paddy Trotsky’s? Check! Staunch catholic views to the verge of mania? Check and check again!

You write –

Unfortunately, this kind of extreme secularism is also attracting its devotees in Fianna Fail, including Dermot Ahern, who says politicians shouldn’t let religion ‘cloud’ their judgment, and also that he leaves his religion aside when legislating. (This gives rise to the question, what values does he bring to bear when legislating?)

About bloody time, what? What values does Ahearne bring to bear when legislating? That blasphemy law of his was weak in the extreme! Where was the fire? The brimstone? Would the budget not stretch to a bit of enforcement? Look all around you, David! Does Blasphemy not abound wherever your eye wanders?

Gays still walk the land with, well, gay abandon! The Gay canoodles and cavorts in public! How is this not blasphemy?! It says it right there in the Bible – Leviticus something or other I think. It says “BLOODY WELL DOWN WITH THE GAY! IT’S JOLLY WELL NOT ON!” or some such (I don’t have a King James to hand).

And what does Dermot Ahern do?

THE BLOODY CIVIL PARTNERSHIP BILL!

Since this horse of a Bill was passed in the Seanaid (despite the best efforts of another boggery chap, Mr. Ronan “Charlie Brown” Mullen) I have not been able to stop thinking about fey “confirmed batchelors” enjoying married relations in their homes. It consumes my every waking thought. Two gentlemen – imagine! Hugging! Pecking one another on the cheek! Holding hands?!

This is fine, though. A manly kiss between chums is totally fine. Fine, I say. And, Judas did end up betraying Him so it probably shouldn't even count.

By jove!

Why did I even marry the lovely Mrs. Harper if The Gay can now do the same?! Soon we’ll all be at it! Bumming each other (pardon my Francais) in the streets! Raising Godless The Gay children! Giving each other The Aids! It’s a slippery slope and you, Mr. Quinn know this. At last, some proper right wing journalism in the Indo – it’s been a long time coming.

But I would go farther, if I could suggest some ideas to you, Mr. Quinn. In the words of Dear Bertand there is a lot done, yet so much more to do! How can we rest at secularism and the persecution of The Gay when other abominations lie unmolested in our sainted isle?

This is in direct opposition to this! These are in direct opposition to this! This is a direct contradiction of this! Yet they remain unchallenged in your worthy column!

The Devils Breakfast!

I look forward to our crusade against the Godless masses and The Trotsky.

Yours etc,

Randall Harper

Ivana Bacik Needs To Have A Sit Down

I am not a chap that likes to repeat himself. I find it a frightful bore. On one occasion, while holidaying in Sub Saharan Africa, some Arab chap failed to grasp at the first time of asking what I’d asked him in my exquisite Queens Own Tongue – I stood there staring at the bloody fool for 10 whole minutes until he gave me the decorative monkeys hand I had bloody well asked him for in the first place. Repeat myself, old stick?

Never.

Yet, repeat myself I must. The nonsense has gotten too extreme, old trout! While about town this morning I stumbled upon this piece in the Paper of Record and well, I won’t inform you of the fate of the poor croissant I was marmalading at the time. Had I not put this entire issue to rest yesterday?

Far be it from me to disagree with an alumna of my dearest Alma Mater but my my, Senator Bacik, what utter nonsense have you committed to ink here? That Madam would allow such flagrant codswallop to appear on her pages is a shock, especially considering our joint affection for The Iron Lady.

The main thrust of her article is thus; mooooooaaaan.

She writes –

First, without more women TDs, our democracy is not truly representative.

I would beg to differ, Senator! There is no statute excluding women from Politics in this country (no matter how many times I push it with Dear Leader Turnip, damn his backwoodsman forehead). The fact that there are so few lady T.D’s is nothing to do with some grand conspiracy no matter how much discerning gentlemen would wish it so. She continues –

This means that voter choice in Ireland is severely restricted. In the 2007 general election, women constituted only 17 per cent of candidates overall. At least 60 per cent of constituencies had no women candidates from either of the two largest political parties; Fianna Fáil fielded no women candidates in 28 constituencies and Fine Gael had no women standing in 30 constituencies. In five constituencies out of 43, no women candidates stood, even as Independents.

A lot of numbers there, chaps, yet it’s a pity that they are utterly meaningless. Were there enough women of sufficient gumption to demand a place on the ballot then there would not be a problem.

Once again, Ivana, you have to ask yourself WWTILD? Would The Iron Lady sit there whining? No she would not! She would close the mines, literally and figuratively, until she was, not only on the stump, but sitting in Parliament like some glorious predatory bird.

This awful article – a typical lefty exercise in telling people how they should be voting – becomes slightly more understandable when you look at the electoral record of the lovely Senator. She was a repeated failure turtle at the stump in 1997, 2002, 2004 & 2009  and again most recently when Comrade Gimore and chums decided not to go with her in Dublin South East – rightly realizing that she has all the electoral appeal of a brain damaged arsonist.

Senator Bacik pictured adding psychokinesis to her long list of failures.

In fact, the only reason she has a job in politics at all, and not driving around Portobello looking for minor injustices to write to Times Letters Page about, is down to squeaking in to the Seanaid by the very skin of her teeth in 2007 on the 8th count after Norris, De Rossa and Scooby bloody Doo got in before her.

So yes, one can see why introducing a quota of female TD’s would suit her down to the ground. One can see her running around Dublin South shrieking at passers by “It doesn’t matter how rubbish you think I am! The law says I get in either way!”.

In the parlance of the lower classes, old fruit, I think Ivana should grow a pair, homie. Of internal lady testicles, or whatever it is the girls are calling them these days.

Yours etc,

Randall Harper

A Shocking Discovery

I don’t want to alarm you gentlemen (I know it’s early) so I suggest you put down your glasses of port and perhaps rest your cigar in a safe place lest any trouser damaging incidents arise due to shock. Prepare yourself, chums. Here we go.

There is a Feminist, Gentleman Hating hate site operating on these very Irish internets.

I’m sorry to have to break such dire news to you, old trout, especially so early into our Gentlemens Club’s founding. And before any of the more callow, inexperienced gentlemen in our ranks decide to tumble down the rabbit hole beyond that link expecting some hot and heavy Feminist action, let me warn you – these aren’t the good type of Feminists.

There is, literally, NONE of these kind of Feminists on The Anti - Room. Well, there might be. I haven't gone beyond the first page.

Such wanton hatred of Gentlemen is surely not allowed under the EU Human Rights thingamajig. There must be someone we can complain to? Must we resort to complaining with the poor on Mr. Duffy’s broadcast? I mean, that’s how desperate we are! The Gentlemanonogony on display on this Hate Site is… is, pardon my language – frightful.

Just look at these examples! Admittedly I haven’t read these Hate Posts in their entirety (I mean, who could), but here is a brief summation of what I found.

Here, some lady (possibly a neer-do-well) blames the fact that she can no longer afford her weekly jaunt to Brown Thomas on the fact that there were no ladies in charge during our Celtic Tiger! And here some lady blames the fact that she is currently unhappy with the shape of her bottom on some evil man somewhere!

Can you believe this? Where are their husbands? Do they even have husbands? The Hate continues here when some lunatic woman walks into traffic and then accuses the gentleman that scolded her wanton disregard for the rules of the road of MISOGYNY of all things! I know he was probably working class (he drove a van) but still, steady on darling. If you pulled out in front of The Beamer I would have bloody well scolded you too, with supreme prejudice. And no, I don’t hate women – I’m just incredibly suspicious of them.

Chaps, this can’t be allowed to continue. We must petition The Google immediately to make sure that this Hate Site is removed from our Internet. Like post-bloody-haste.

Keeping the Ladies Happy

Keeping ones lady happy is, as most gentlemen here know all too well, an arduous task at the best of times. Sometimes though, despite our best efforts, it seems that all the new vacuum cleaners and pearl earrings in Brown Thomas aren’t enough to keep The Little Woman happy, especially when she gets some wild notion into that pretty little noggin of hers. For example, recently, she’s gotten it into her beautiful, elegant skull that a quota system (via The Paper of Record) should be implemented to ensure more ladies get to play Big Boy stuff in the sphere of politics! What’s more, she’s incredibly disappointed that most of the ladies currently robbing a man of his Rightful Place in the Dail don’t agree with her!

Well, as you might appreciate old trout, my pipe very nearly fell into my glass of Beringer ’41! A quota system? How utterly ridiculous. The Iron Lady wouldn’t stand for such nonsense.

Phwoar. I should add that I keep this shot of The Iron Lady in my wallet at all times for probity’s sake.

I have a suggestion, ladies, if you’ll indulge me for a moment. I would advise that instead of spending your time trying to break democracy so you can lounge around Leinster House looking dowdy and messing around on Farmville when you think nobody’s watching you should instead concentrate on becoming better politicians. If you can’t get Mary and Sharon down the hairdressers to stop looking at Michael Martin’s shapely buttocks and vote for you come ballot day then that’s not the systems fault; that’s your fault, darling.

Politics is a sausage fest, ladies, and for good reason. Where would we be today if Michelle Collins decided that she didn’t want to lead a guerilla campaign of violence against the British because she was fighting with Harriet Boland over whatever Julia Roberts would be if she were a man? Or if Charlene Haughey decided that we weren’t, in fact, living way beyond our means and that we should all treat ourselves to some new shoes and some cocktails? We men are saving you from yourselves. And your pretty little heads can’t see that. It’s sad. I’m sad. You’ve made me sad.

Look, next time these flights of fancy enter your head you should ask yourself, WWTILD? What Would The Iron Lady Do? Close down the mines. Over and over again.

There’s a lesson there for all of us chaps, not just the Denises and Lyndseys in the audience.

Welcome to The Gentlemens Club

As you are no doubt well aware old chum, it’s becoming harder and harder to be a man in our modern world. The discerning gentleman is dogged on all sides by metrosexoouals and liberal, man hating sink dodgers.

These hairy clucking witches (and in the metrosexoouals case, oddly smooth clucking witches) would have you believe that your urge to see a cracking pair of tits and to shout oneself hoarse at the rugger is a shameful pursuit – Gentlemen, it is time to redress the balance.

No longer shall we hide in the shadows and pretend that we don’t mind being taken to Twilight Eclipse for the second time. It’s time we stood up and said, “No woman, no I shan’t accompany you to Sex and the City: Undead! You’ll sit down and watch this Commando and Predator 1 & 2 marathon and you’ll bloody well like it.”

So, to start off as we mean to go on may I give you this gift.

Bloody hell, old boy, what a pair.

Later gents.

PS: If you feel that you could contribute to our Gentlemens Club please inform me of your desires at randallharperesquire@gmail.com .