My good angel is a tiresome worrier and over-thinker. Which, I suppose, is quite fortuitous because my bad angel is a natural entrepreneur across a multitude of different worry creation businesses. In the past, St. Patrick’s day, was a day my bad angel would skipper the ship. And skipper it in a manner that Quint from Jaws would rubber-stamp with a grunt of approval before flinging a can of Budweiser in the general direction of my head.
I’m kinda fond of my bad angel, though. Which is a spiritual dilemma but also because most of my humour and devil-me-care attitude resides on this floor of the house. So, thru the non-drinking years the St Paddy’s day celebrations have become a minor irritant to me and a major irritant to my bad angel.
So, these are twenty-four hours to be navigated through rather than a day to be lavishly enjoyed. As the crowds in the town began to swell around lunch-time, today, I could feel the old familiar giddiness vibrating down my body, breathing life into my legs, and beginning to tap dance a tune on the floor. I took this as a signal to hop in the car and listen to some music. But, also to compromise. And let the old devil out of the cage and to create some Guinness Zero type mischief.
Now, my bad angel smiles wickedly that my good angel frets so much about the possible introduction of hate speech legislation in Ireland. He’s not at all bothered about spending a stretch of time in Mountjoy corrupting Enoch Burke with bad language and wanton ideas. Anyway, as drink was most definitely out of the question I asked the old bugger to see if he might create a new word. It’s not fifteen pints of Guinness but sure it’s a dropeen to keep the Heineken tap from the front-door.
Tae-dooley: - pronounced tay-dooley. Plural: Tae-doolies
A tae-dooley is a formerly below average politician, civil servant or journalist who one night mistakenly swallowed the woke pill instead of the viagra one. And awoke the following morning a complete genius on world affairs and the environment.
Generally speaking, tae-doolies are male with a new found horn for championing the educational rights of sycamore trees.
A tae-dooley loves outlawing bog-holes in favour of creating lakes of sulphuric acid to produce EV batteries. Fortunately, though, most of these EV lakes exist in sub-Saharan Africa and not in the real world. Tae-dooley theologians would point out that if something doesn’t exist in the digital world then does it really exist at all.
Tae-doolies are all colours of the rainbow but alas haven’t been pictured with an Irish flag since the 2019 local elections. When tae-doolies are not collectively gathered around a Ukrainian flag, beating out a limp five knuckle shuffle; they can be found tirelessly campaigning on social media to put an end to the physical world.
The collective term for a large grouping of tae-doolies together in the wild is called a “ Laradcur of tae-doolies “
A laradcur is when you combines the phrase “ he's some fucking Larry that fella” with whoever happens to be running the country.
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Love it! With your talent for making up new words, they might give you a job in the Newspeak department of BB Head Office Donnybrook, after you're released from Mountjoy, re-educated and fully versed in both hate speech non-language and Newspeak, of course... Apologies if that stirs some worry in your good angel :0
Hi Gerry, happy paddies boy, in my area instead of being accused of telling lies,the phrase is "now that's some tommydooly "..