I've returned once more. The ongoing media war against the public sector has made me nearly wee myself with fright (or maybe I shouldn't have had that 15th cup of coffee), so I was in hiding for a bit.
I wish I hadn't bothered to come back out though. 7% pay cuts? Haven't we poor public servants suffered enough, what with that stupid pension levy and having to fill out 29 forms every time we want to pull our office blinds down on the rare occasion that the sun shines on our septic little isle?
And, all the time, the media is full of stories of the excesses of John O'Donoghue, Rody Molloy, and general Fás fuckmuppetry. Not to mention flat-capped TDs opposing the proposed reduction in the legal blood-alcohol limit because of the impact it will have on the turnover of the pub they run as an adjunct to their 100k-a-year-plus-expenses slice of taxpayer's money. You only have to look towards the south-west to see a good reason to reduce the number of scrounging TDs.
Meanwhile, back in the Department, things are going not so smoothly either. There has been an uptake on the paid career breaks, incentivised early retirement and so on, thereby reducing the number of staff reporting to Govstooge. In spite of empty desks, I can still bound around the office with a big grin on my face. (No, not because I have fewer PMDS forms to fill out. The CPSU put paid to that months ago, remember? Nor is it because I can jump on the empty desks now without squashing a colleague's hand). I'm swearing less. (!!!!!) Well, only fucking slightly less. The HEO no longer has to use a long pole to attract my attention. More has to be done with less resources, and this goes down a lot more easily if the EO doling out the work to the COs isn't grimacing.
How can I have achieved this when the economy is in tatters and the social and industrial unrest is palpable?
How can I laugh in the face of negative equity and NAMA?
Well, gentle reader, you are about to find out:
The answer is simple:
Tra-la-la-fucking-la.
It's the chemical equivalent of being in the civil service for more than 20 years. It insulates you against harsh reality without the need for sixteen layers of adipose tissue brought on by years of canteen sausages. A bit like alcohol, really, but easier on the liver, and you won't upset Noel Dempsey either. Everyone's a winner!
I wish I hadn't bothered to come back out though. 7% pay cuts? Haven't we poor public servants suffered enough, what with that stupid pension levy and having to fill out 29 forms every time we want to pull our office blinds down on the rare occasion that the sun shines on our septic little isle?
And, all the time, the media is full of stories of the excesses of John O'Donoghue, Rody Molloy, and general Fás fuckmuppetry. Not to mention flat-capped TDs opposing the proposed reduction in the legal blood-alcohol limit because of the impact it will have on the turnover of the pub they run as an adjunct to their 100k-a-year-plus-expenses slice of taxpayer's money. You only have to look towards the south-west to see a good reason to reduce the number of scrounging TDs.
Meanwhile, back in the Department, things are going not so smoothly either. There has been an uptake on the paid career breaks, incentivised early retirement and so on, thereby reducing the number of staff reporting to Govstooge. In spite of empty desks, I can still bound around the office with a big grin on my face. (No, not because I have fewer PMDS forms to fill out. The CPSU put paid to that months ago, remember? Nor is it because I can jump on the empty desks now without squashing a colleague's hand). I'm swearing less. (!!!!!) Well, only fucking slightly less. The HEO no longer has to use a long pole to attract my attention. More has to be done with less resources, and this goes down a lot more easily if the EO doling out the work to the COs isn't grimacing.
How can I have achieved this when the economy is in tatters and the social and industrial unrest is palpable?
How can I laugh in the face of negative equity and NAMA?
Well, gentle reader, you are about to find out:
The answer is simple:
Tra-la-la-fucking-la.
It's the chemical equivalent of being in the civil service for more than 20 years. It insulates you against harsh reality without the need for sixteen layers of adipose tissue brought on by years of canteen sausages. A bit like alcohol, really, but easier on the liver, and you won't upset Noel Dempsey either. Everyone's a winner!
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