Butchers closing down and becoming nail salon is sign that civilisation is doomed – it’s a depressing reality
WHEN a butchers closes and becomes a nail salon, you know civilisation is doomed.
What is more important — women painting their nails or the ability to buy a pound of hand-made sausages and a fresh, juicy T-bone?
I know where I stand. I’d rather the smell of fresh meat than the nose-pinching pungency of polished cuticles. Man’s man, me.
Alas, the ancient trade of butchery is dying a quick death, supplanted by frippery and the mundanity of the supermarket.
It should be shocking, except it’s not, it’s a depressing reality that shows the trajectory of the modern world into meaninglessness.
There used to be two butchers in town. Now there is none. Their loss is felt more keenly this time of the year.
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This is the first festive season without the Christmas queues around the block to collect hams and turkeys, giblets inside, wrapped in a bag. Bones for the dog thrown in gratis.
Banished to memory to make way for the nail bars, the ten-a-penny coffee dens and the depressing charity “boutiques”.
The traditional pub, too, is on the way out. People don’t want just to drink any more, they expect to be fed too, heaven help us.
A pint in a pub that reeks of food is, well, anathema to all of us who like a tipple.
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Peanuts and crisps should be the only items on the grub menu in a real pub.
The things that made life in Ireland unique are rapidly disappearing. And I despair.
Speaking of which. Christ, Christmas. I don’t shop, except for the hand-to-mouth essentials. Adverts, and especially Christmas ones, go in one ear and fly out the other.
As for the Christmas presents, yep, I’m one of those who grabs his in a mad dash around the aisles on Christmas Eve, the only day of the year I’m up at cock crow to defeat the crowds.
Except I don’t. Never do. Every like-minded man (and a handful of damsels in distress) is doing the same, haring around like a headless chicken, hoping to bag something that won’t offend for a lifetime.
The dream of the high stool in the late afternoon — WITHOUT the smell of Turkey and ham wafting from the kitchen — the motivator to endure the madness at the tills.
Dublin city centre on Christmas Eve morning is the ninth circle of hell for the last-minute brigade, of which I’m a (stupidly) proud and nervous member.
Three days to go to Santa and my mind is a fog. Do I need to buy anything at all?
CHRISTMAS TAT
Haven’t they got enough stuff already? How long before the shower set, the socks and the oversized jumper are jettisoned and forgotten anyway? (Half a minute!) Ah, you shouldn’t have. No, I shouldn’t have.
To be together with those you love is surely more important than giving and receiving Christmas tat.
Isn’t Christmas about being and not having? Don’t tell the kids that, they’ll never speak to you again.
A nice vintage uncorked, plenty of tasty food to hand, a pair of slippers, a roaring fire, a board game or two, laughter and bonhomie in the good company of those close to you is all that’s needed at Christmas.
It’s a time for filtering the good and the bad of the last year, remembering loved ones lost, relaxing and being content with your lot.
If it weren’t for rampant capitalism (and Christmas is only that these days) we’d all be happy.
As Jim Royle might say, presents, my arse.
CORRECT TO DUMP TRUMP
WITH Christmas turkeys in mind, Donald Trump . . .
This week, a court in Colorado ruled he could not appear on the ballot for the Republican Presidential Primary in the state.
Judges cited his insurrection charges related to the 2020 storming of Capitol Hill by his legion of dumb-ass supporters as reason enough to stop him from getting his name printed in black and white.
Well done, Colorado. It’s time American democracy stood up and defended the principle on which the Land Of The Free was established: The Rule of Law.
Trump and his supporters care little for the rule of law. He’s willing, in his own words, to be a DICTATOR on day one, if he is re-elected.
Other states should now follow suit and similarly bar Trump.
The problem is, America is so polarised between the frothing-at-the-mouth Trumpists on the one side and, eh, reasonable, steady-as-you-go folk on the other, that it is as likely to happen as Trump getting basted as a turkey and roasted in an oven this Christmas.
We can only dream.
A few states may follow Colorado’s example, but the states where Trump is the dominant force will baulk.
One thing’s for sure, 2024 looks set to be the most interesting political year in US history . . . since 2016.
And madder than then.
DON'T LET RACISTS DIVIDE US
THE arson at Ross Lake House Hotel in Rosscahill, Co Galway, on Saturday night – where more than 70 asylum seekers were due to be housed – is further proof the mindless racists among us are becoming bolder.
It’s not the first time a centre due to house poor unfortunates from around the world has been attacked by far-right scum (and let’s call a spade a spade here, they are pond life).
And it won’t be the last.
The gardai have launched an investigation, but there seems to be a rift developing between Commissioner Drew Harris and Taoiseach Leo Varadkar about the attack.
Mr Harris said cops were not officially told the hotel was to be used to house asylum seekers. Leo refuted that assertion and said the gardai were told.
As they bicker over who said what, the racists rub their hands in glee. Chaos and confusion is exactly what they want.
It helps sow division and that’s where the racists and their twisted view of immigrants coming to Ireland can thrive.
All right-thinking folk must stand up for what is right. And a multicultural, diverse Ireland is what is right.
NICOLE'S NATURAL BEAUTY
THERE are very few Hollywood A-listers as naturally beautiful as Nicole Kidman, pictured here in Sydney at a special screening of her new Prime Video mini-series Expats this week.
On-screen or off it, she is simply mesmerising.
And she looks to be growing younger, not older, as the years go by.
There, now you know who rocks my boat.
MISSING THE GREAT SID WADDELL
IF I were a professional darts player, my moniker would be Dartagnan, after the legendary Musketeer.
Only the late, great Sid Waddell, the darts commentator who could sum up the world in front of him with the most marvellous metaphors, could tell me if anyone has ever trademarked Dartagnan.
But Sid’s gone. I still miss him every year at the Ally Pally since he passed away in 2012.
Darts commentary has never been the same.
I delved into the archives to reproduce this Sid gem to describe Crafty Cockney Eric Bristow in his heyday: “When Alexander of Macedonia was 33, he cried salt tears because there were no more worlds to conquer . . .
“Bristow’s only 27!”
CHRISTMAS TREE 'WOOD'
APPARENTLY, if you feed your Christmas tree Viagra, it lasts longer.
Wood you believe it? (Sorry!)
Scientists say that if you drop a couple of the little blue pills into the water at the foot of your tree it helps keep the branches stiff and perky throughout the festive season.
The active ingredient, Sildenafil, gives the trees a 40 per cent better chance of surviving 24 days.
Pull the other one, lads.