Bennie Doesn't Ride On Donkeys And Brian Surely Doesn't Drink Water!

"Shout in triumph, O daughter of Jerusalem. Look! Your king himself comes to you. He is righteous, yes, saved; humble, and riding upon an ass, even upon a full- grown animal, the son of a she- ass."
- book of Zechariah, Chapter 9, Verse 9

"And Bennie appeared unto Scotland in an ice cream van; and lo, he was accompanied by lackeys galore, security to beat the band; with choirs and heavenly ass- kissers like Alex Salmond to greet him and to make him feel much more important than the Christ."
- book of Brady, Chapter 1, Verse 1

By Charley Brady

Ahhh, come on now, Bennie. I know that I can be a nasty bit of business but I didn't deserve that. All I've ever said is that I am an unrepentant atheist and you now you say, during your visit to Britain, that this is the equivalent of being a Nazi?

Certainly you would have more experience with Adolf and the Hitler Youth than a humble non-believer - and therefore in your eyes, Evil Incarnate - like myself.

Still, I don't think that I really deserved that.

You see, the way I have always seen it is that we atheists try to respect everyone and not put any holier than thou rubbish into people's brainpans.

Bennie - you don't mind if I call you Bennie, do you, after all you are just a man - what is it with you having a hang up about people like me?

Admittedly I was astonished at the show you put on in Scotland. That was a nice wee bit of tartan ribbon that you had around your neck. I was well impressed. If you don't see sarcasm in that then I guess you are not the intellectual that we are endlessly told that you are.

As you drove around in your bullet-proof ice cream truck did you not just once consider that these clowns who lined the streets in their thousands - bit of a climb down from your equally phoney predecessor - were exactly the same bunch of gobshites who felt that they must turn out for the wake of Princess Diana. Someone else that they didn't know. I kept hoping that the ice cream truck would start playing "Mr. Softy" music and that kids - and me! -would be queuing for a ninety- nine. With an extra chocolate flake in it.

As he tried desperately to stop his arm from giving a "Sieg Heil" salute, looking more and more like a demented character from "Dr. Strangelove", Pope Benedict thundered:

"We can recall how Britain and her leaders stood against a Nazi tyranny that wished to eradicate God from our society and denied common humanity to many, especially Jews, who were thought unfit to live.

"I also recall the regime's attitude to Christian pastors and religious who spoke the truth in love, opposed the Nazis and paid for that opposition with their lives.

"As we reflect on the sobering lessons of the atheist extremism of the Twentieth Century, let us never forget how the exclusion of God, religion and virtue from public life leads ultimately to a truncated vision of man and of society."

There is so much that is wrong with that ludicrous statement that I scarcely know where to begin. Are you seriously telling me that because I don't believe in a ridiculous desert religion, the worship of which has led to more bloodshed than any war ever fought, I am to be equated with your old mate Adolf's philosophy? Instead of eradicating Jews would you replace that atrocity with eradicating me for having the temerity to think and question for myself?

I'm not talking about the clowns who felt the need to form Atheist Ireland so that they could whinge to each other about how intellectually superior they are to the religious community. Frankly, they make me want to eat my own vomit.

You are both two sides of the same coin. One bunch telling us that we MUST believe in a God that feels no compunction at all about dropping floods onto the poorest sections of humanity and happily ignores the six pig thugs who gang-raped a woman only last week; and the other a bunch of bozos who tell us that we MUST not believe because the whole idea of a benevolent and all powerful God is such obvious nonsense.

Surely at this stage in our evolution we should be beyond such things. Surely there is a middle ground where I can respect the many decent people who believe and can equally expect the same consideration for myself.

To equate my disbelief in any form of the supernatural with a belief in the tenets of National Socialism is to belittle us both.

Some of the finest people I know have had no belief in God whatsoever, just as some equally decent people feel that they need some sort of belief system in order to get through the trials in their lives. For crying out loud, surely we can exist co- equally!

Having said that, I could only watch in horror as you felt the need to appear to your "worshippers" who see you as a God yourself, bent almost double under the weight of your fancy dress costume. If the Christ who rode into Jerusalem on a bloody donkey could have seen you, he would have wondered what the hell he died for.

As to why you avoided an apology for the sins of your rapist priests, who knows your reasons? And don't say that you did apologise because if anything your pathetic mutterings were an attempt at a damage limitation exercise, they certainly never contained the word "sorry".

Even if the Christ was still hale and hearty and wandering the planet, instead of having been nailed with tacks (geddit?) the last time he was here you wouldn't have bothered to sit down and break bread with him either. Well, if you're on a state visit - don't get me started on that - and you refuse to dine with the Queen of the country you're visiting then a lowly carpenter wouldn't have gotten a look in.

As a Buckingham Palace spokesman put it: "They'll exchange gifts at the private audience. He will make a speech and the Queen will see him off.

"The Pope doesn't dine with anyone."

The Pope doesn't dine with anyone. Sorry, J.C. I guess that if you had invited Herr Bennie to the Last Supper you would have been told: "The Pope doesn't dine with anyone and that includes you. Now get your sorry ass back up on that cross and stop embarrassing His Holiness. By the way, can you see my house from up there?"

By the way, Bennie, why didn't you hit Ireland on your whirlwind tour? Were you afraid that you might have been taken to task over you and your cronies covering up for criminals?

You shouldn't have been, you know. This country probably has, per head of population, more ass kissers than the whole of Britain has so you would have been welcomed with open arms.

Missed opportunity, your Papalness; missed opportunity.

Maybe you could have hung out with our beloved Taoiseach, Brian Clown. He's a great man for a party.

You've heard of Nero fiddling while Rome burned? Well that's our Brian to a tee.

You could have watched him performing his own little miracle of turning beer into water as he staggered over to the nearest bit of shrubbery in order to take a leak. Why do they always have to build the damned toilets so far away from the bar counter?

Bastards!

Still, I can categorically state for the record that Clown does not have a drink problem. No problem at all. When you're ripping off as much money as he is there's never a problem getting a drink.

Seriously, though. I know that he isn't a p*** head because he told me so himself. Just before he fell off his bar stool and crashed through a table full of drinks.

Did you see the photo of him snaffling down the pint of Guinness before it had even settled? Or the one where he's swigging from a magnum of champers by the neck? Way to go, Brian. You don't see James Bond doing that, do you? That sap would be sipping at his Bollinger and boring you with what year it was made in.

As a man who has probably suffered more hangovers than almost anyone else in history I refuse to be judgemental but I do have to wonder how long Brian would last if he were the CEO of a company and turned up on national radio with a throat as sore as his.

To show you what an intellectual heavyweight Brian is, he throws a free bar from 7.30 in the evening, invites a bunch of journalists and expects them to keep their traps shut.

A bunch of journalists? Did you ever see a journalist drink? They'd put a politician to shame but that note book is there to write up the stuff he or she might have forgotten the next day.

Oh Brian, for your own sake, get a clue, would you?

It's all a bit of a storm in a pint pot, really. We all know that our politicians are a bunch of inept ne'er do wells and it hasn't bothered us so far. Hell, look at the state of the country. You don't think it got to be this way by being run by a Temperance Union, do you?

Well, it's half eleven in the morning. I'm off to get bladdered with a bunch of Fianna Failures. We're meeting in the Olde Brewery, Oranmore, County Galway, if you feel like joining us.

But remember: enjoy your drunken politicians responsibly.

And, hangover permitting, I hope to see you all again next week.

Same bat-time!

Same bat-channel!

You can reach Charley at chasbrady7@eircom.net