Martin Cullen's Merc breakdown-the full expose.

national | politics / elections | news report Friday May 07, 2004 12:24 by John McDermott Dublin

of horses cars and computers.

A trying day in the life of a Fianna Fail Minister for the Environment.

The self-styled ‘ Hound of Waterford’ and Soldier of Destiny ,Martin ‘Cu’ Cullen ..sometime ‘ Minister for the Environment’.. implacable foe of environmentalists everywhere,…wanted dead or alive by ‘An Taisce. ‘.for Heritage destruction ( His war cry;-Death to Duchas!! etc)and holder of other battle titles too numerous to delineate here was driving his ministerial mercedes down his newly opened Super-Highway through the Knockmealdown Mountains,.. yesterday when a calamity occurred.
His car broke down.
His mood was already not so good,as he inhaled deeply on the last draw from the untipped but end of a cigarette for the twentieth time that afternoon.
His constituents were pressing him to install a cancer treatment machine in Tramore for months now.He wondered if,when it was eventually installed he would end up being one of the first recipients of its deadly rays himself. ‘ Bo**ics I’ll light up anyway’he said to himself as he opened the packet yet again in preparation for another soothing drawl of satisfying smoke.
He was returning home from the un-official opening of an illegal Dump,near Baltinglass in the scenic Wicklow mountains. One of the party faithful-a verygenerous contributor to the Party,and his own election expenses,at times of need -,was finalizing plans to to dispose of all the domestic rubbish collected from the disgruntled householders of the city Baile Atha Cliath,
He remembered his parting advice to his old schoolmate Tom Jersey, who had made his fortune from illegal quarries,and also building ‘ one off rural houses’to order.‘Any place, any time, any hillock’had been his famous catch phrase, in the construction business.
‘Tom’ he had said, ‘For God’s sake keep a low profile and don’t be getting’ your name in the papers all the time.The Press are gunnin’ for us big time.I think that Taisce crowd want my head on a silver platter.Y’er appearance in that Tribunal was bad publicity for Bertie.That Gilmartin f****r will be the ruin of us’
Martin was now running late for an appointment to open a new ‘ State of the Art’ regional hospital in the seaside village of Tramore.
His pet project.
His pride and joy..
His infirm electorate there had refused to ‘take the train to Dublin’anymore, and he was in trouble with both Michael Martin the Minister for Long Waiting Lists, for spending so much of the ‘ Soldiers’tax booty in his own backyard.
Charlie ‘Jockeyboy’McCreevy also suspected him of leaking the story of his generousity to the Kildare ‘Horsey Set’ as a distraction from the main events;-Highways and Hospitals.
Charlie had built his local pals a new racecourse, at the taxpayers expense.
The worst of it was that whole world already knew that the beneficiaries of his largesse don’t even have to pay taxes of any kind on their untold wealth from stallion fees etc.
Martin tried the starter motor one last time…and bingo! The car jerked back into life and he was on his way again.He coughed ,a cloud of blue smoke and regained his composure.
He still could not get this latest scandal out of his head.50 million euros down the drain on useless computer equipment. He knew it was his fault for sure.He swore he would never deal with the same supplier again,-no matter how much money he contributed to the Party Coffers every year
.It just wasn’t worth it in the end.Best to get impartial advice and an forger the ‘Circle of Friends of Fianna Fail’particularly with such new fangled technology.
That evening after the Waterford Hospital opening, his spirits had lifted .Sippins a pint of Guinness and drawing on yet another(forbidden)fag, he regaled his supporters in the local pub with a little story,to lighten the proceedings.
‘Boys’he said, ‘I was drivin down from Dublin this mornin’when me car broke down .I pulled in to the roadside,not knowin’ what to do –and just as I peered under the bonnet in hopes of spottin the problem-I hears a voice from the hedge behind me.’
The voice said ‘that spark plug cable is loose’. ‘I tightened the cable and turned around to thank my benefactor and what was standing there peering over at me-but the white head of a big horse! Can you imagine that? What a surprise I got!’
Not to be outdone,one of the locals,who heard Martin joking with the pals turned round and says; ‘Well Martin, I know that very same horse that you speak of’!
‘You do?’ says Martin,not expectin’this reply.
‘Yes I do’ says y’er man , ‘I know him well and furthermore Martin I know that he knows F**k all about cars -or computers!!