Sure didn’t I blow out a sigh of relief when I read Dr. Tony Hologram’s book “ We Need To Talk " was adjudged by the revenue commissioners to qualify for the Artist’s exemption. I mean you couldn’t have St. Tony of asinine assumptions paying tax now could you?
Thankfully, Dr. Hologram and his non-pioneering work of whimsical nothingness are not going to face this type of toxic tax environment. His memoir is certainly a new creative force, some might say a fantastical one altogether. “No Tax Tony “ keeps hitting 21 at the black-jack table, some guys have all the luck eh….
However, this is great news for all wannabe scribes though. I mean if this piece of three-day old cowpat is tax-exempt then surely so is everything.
The sub-question from the Irish Independent article outline St. Tony’s good fortune above is as follows:
Who else qualifies under the artist’s tax break?
Eh well, obviously, I can say, quite unhumbly and unabashedly - I do.
Now, unfortunately, I’d need to be making actual dough to access my newly acquired non-taxpaying status alongside the high pontiff of the pandemic. But, sure, I’ll accept a grant, or better still, a couple of the hotels the government is clandestinely securing around the country. I’ll even fill them with people for them. Unfortunately, I’ll likely fill them with Irish people but, sure, we can keep that bit secret. Like everything else in this dear old country of ours. Anyway, I better fill in my auld grant application.
Dear Government,
Please find attached below my official grant submission for a nice country hotel of my own, preferably west of the river Shannon. The work I am submitting for your attention is my memoir of St. Tony’s handling, not only of the COVID pandemic, but one of his other grand failures as Chief Medical Officer too. On January 15th 2022 this substack advised Dr Hologram to resign in a lengthy piece. I would note he followed my advice within three months. In fact, within a few months, post my article, not alone was Tony-Angelo, high-tailing it out of the Irish Health service, so too were most of the star players of the Irish pandemic. I must, at this stage, claim credit and insist these occurrences cannot be a co-incidence especially since this joker embarked on a writing career five seconds after he bailed out of his 187,000 euro a year job into a fat pension.
The facts contained within the article below alongside the bonus departures of Dr Glynn and Paul Reid should, I think you’ll agree, entitle me to ownership of much of south county Dublin in addition to the aforementioned 42 bedroom country manor in North Leitrim. I can re-assure any worried parties that I plan to build a turf fuelled incinerator in Blackrock and a large briquette factory atop Killiney hill. And so re-tune those fine peoples back into some real Irish labour of collecting rubbish and creating fuel so the real men and women of Ireland can sit down after long day’s work, relax, light a fire and rest their weary bones.
To our shared future of building briquettes better
Yours sincerely,
The West’s Awake.
Both pieces keenly observed, as always and delivered with digestible precision alongside humour - a challenging balance to achieve when the subject matter is so murky and evil.
Perhaps the most evil creature in Irish public life today and that is saying something.