It’s quite appropriate that today, Sunday, but not
just any Sunday, Easter Sunday, I can announce a sort of rebirth, a new
beginning. But I’m not going to say anything
until you lot are all sitting up straight, that means you Ed Mooney, sit up
straight man, has no one ever taught you how to sit to attention? Bloody civilians, he’s probably sitting there
dreaming of a dry stone wall in a remote area of county Kerry. And by the way Colonialist I don’t want to
have to mention haircuts again! Anyway,
where was I? Ah yes, it would appear that
the Celtic Illumination blog, the life blood of The Illuminati, is to be turned
in to three books. So you can all
congratulate yourselves on a job well done.
If everything goes to plan, then the first actual, physical book, or downloadable
file, will be ready in four months’ time.
All I have to do is re-write the beginning of the blog, smooth out a few
bits, here and there, add a few more funny tales and we are home.
So thank you all very much for your support and
your comments, and when we get the first book to the top of the best seller
lists you can tell your friends that you had a hand in it. At your next lavish dinner party you can
casually mention, to your assembled guests, that your great friend, the King of
Ireland, has five books, yes it is a five book deal, only three on the blog though,
you can say that your great friend the King of Ireland not only has five books
in the world best seller lists but is well on his way to becoming the greatest
Irish novelist of the twenty first century.
And of course once again you can claim to have played a part in it.
When I first began to write these stories I clumped
them together under the title, “Do Abseiling Spiders wear Crampons in Winter?” As perhaps the more funny incidents, and the
ones I wrote about the most, were during my time spent on the Desert and Mountain
Rescue teams, this is where the focus of the work was. The more astute among you may have noticed
that this title is perhaps a direct rip off of the title of the book from which
the film Blade Runner was taken, which was, ‘Do Androids Dream of Electric
Sheep?’ by the American writer Philip K Dick. As we will now be judged by professional critics,
I feel that I should change the title, they would perhaps see it as a form of plagiarism,
and we can’t have that now, can we?
So I need a main title for the three books,
perhaps something along the lines of ‘The life and times of the King of Ireland.’ Which even I will admit is a bit boring, but
does it convey the thrust of the narrative?
You tell me, for as the reader you hold that information and I really
need to know it, please. Then a sub
title for each book, I was thinking the first book covering my life in Belfast,
sleeping with priests, having three hundred, pitchfork waving, torch burning,
Orangemen standing outside our house asking us to leave so that they could set
fire to it, and being used by the President of Ireland for snogging practise as,
‘The Formative Years.’ The second book
would be about my time in the armed forces, not just being a hero, but a hero
with the loveliest legs in Ireland.
Being left naked, tied to mountain tops, getting demoted more times than
I got promoted, celebrating my twenty first birthday in Venice and missing the
flight back home, meeting some fantastic chaps and chapesses, I would be tempted
to call this book ‘The Big Stagger,’ in deference to The Grand Tour, of
Victorian times.
The final book, where I discover that I
actually am the next High Chief of the Clan O Neill and therefore the true King
of Ireland, where I begin to gather my trusty and dedicated followers, The Illuminati,
around me, could be called The Return of The king, although Peter Jackson and J
R R Tolkien may have a few things to say about that. So if any of you would like to make a
suggestion, and no Clancey, I know what you are going to suggest, and I don’t think
“Don’t get the fecking things published in the first place,” to be a very helpful
or constructive suggestion. So if anyone has a suggestion, it doesn’t matter
how wild or daft you may think it to be, I would love to hear it. Perhaps the sillier the better, as we have to
have something eye catching, something memorable, as we are entering the world
of the public relations people. Normally
about now I would mention something like the fact that the title of the satirical
novel Catch 22 by Joseph Heller was originally Catch 18, when it was submitted
to a publisher. So we need to get our thinking caps on people, please.
It is a very interesting time for as the audience
will increase from the three and a half thousand of you, that read this blog
every day, I begin to wonder about the names I mentioned and the trouble that
may be coming my way. Many of you might
immediately think of the thief Paul O Grady and that what I have said about him
could see me in a little bit of legal trouble.
I couldn’t care less about the lying, cheating, thieving, asshole, Paul
O Grady. I have tape-recorded proof that
he, indirectly, stole food from the mouths of my children and if the multi-millionaire
would like to hire the most expensive legal defence in the United Kingdom I
welcome the challenge as I will defend myself.
Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough. No, I am not worried in the least about that fellow,
it is some of the other stories I have told that worry me. Everything that I have written in this blog is
true, all five hundred and twenty thousand words, so far.
Initially I worried about my very good friend John
Games, Docker. The stories I told about
Docker were all true, but didn’t really show him in a very good light. I hope that you could tell that I never intended
to belittle Docker, I love him to bits, he read the stories, was a little
flushed with embarrassment, but gave me permission to go ahead as he knew my
intention was not to offend. The stories
about Clancey’s wedding, and Tim’s wedding, were all true, it’s just as the great
Frank Carson used to say, “It’s the way I tell ‘em.” Rick Stocks taking his fountain pen to be serviced,
Dave Magee emitting an enormous fart in a German brothel making me race to the
toilet with laughter, while he told all the prostitute’s gathered around that I
had shit myself.
None of these worried me but I have to admit that
the time Graham and myself were offered ten thousand pounds to kill a guy, might
have the local constabulary around, asking questions. Is admitting smoking a spliff on the Queen of
England’s front lawn, in Windsor, an offence?
To say that all social workers are idiots, will probably see me get another
award on the New Year’s Honours List. And
what about actually admitting being the leader of the world’s newest double top
secret society, The Illuminati, will that get me in to trouble? It could be embarrassing as we don’t even
have our secret handshake worked out yet, so come on you lot, all I’m asking
you to do is work out our secret handshake and come up with the main title for
the three books and then a sub title for each book. I’m not asking much when you consider that I
am now off to a darkened room to re-write the beginning of this stuff.
You know it’s been a good journey, hard going
sometimes I suppose, especially when I go off on one of my rants, but hopefully
I’ve made you all smile along the way. That
was the single intention of this book, plus to deliver a good read, which I
hope I have managed to do. It annoys me
when I see people who published one joke a day, or one hundred words a week and
then call what they do blogging. As I have
said before I have spoiled you lot, fifteen hundreds words per day, every day,
but then you deserve it, after all, you are The Illuminati. But please do not think that the story is over,
there’s so much more to come, there’s not just a fantastic journey though the
world of learning disabilities and mental health world, there’s death and
destruction. There’s me setting up a
secret military network where we have a certain, ‘Pact,’ between us. The fun and games when I attend a local
university, for a course, with most of the other students being social workers. Remember this is a double top secret society
where you all have taken a blood oath so, if you are not a part of the solution….
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