Barry Clifford: A New Messiah

There came a politician to bring change to a country weary from corruption, a country called Ireland. He stood out. Aging rock star face topped by white long hair, casually attired in blue telling the common people he is one of them. He reached out with manicured fingernails and tanned toned skin to tell his Waterford disciples that they too could be just like him. They hung on to his every biblical intonation of how to begin that task when he at last spoke as the crying of the mob died down:

"First, the people must not know the truth only a convenient one." A silent understanding swept the crowd. "Then, they must be giving apologies when there are no lies left to tell. Forgiveness is the first step to your redemption." No one moved in the crowd, the only sound left was a sparodic cough or someone breaking wind.

The new messiah continued: "To the more stubborn holdouts, they must see a shaking lip with barely controlled tears. To do this: think of a lost pet when you were a child and always carry an onion in your pocket. For all those you cheated on before, including taxes, tell them you were that sinner and throw yourself at their mercy. They now for a brief moment are in control but this is thankfully very fleeting for truly they are sheep. Tell them that over the hill is the promised land." The crowd roared back. He was one of them and now they wanted to be part of him, to share his breath, his spit (gross!) They clung on to the hem of his coat, others touched a lock of his hair that he openly displayed in a casket for those who could not get near him. Then he was gone.

Later, after a few traditional music sessions down in the pub, copious amounts of Guinness with Brian Cowen, and misty eyed video re- runs of the almost ran, Sean Gallagher, the last of the crowd went home at last. They were now the converted that someday it could be one of them leading the country into broad sunlit valleys and open highlands where leprechauns really do exist; where they really are virgins and no taxes; where a lie is the truth and the truth is a lie.

Then suddenly, I was awake and thought: "Barry, it was only a nightmare." I believed it until I picked up the Irish Independent newspaper this morning, 6 Sept 2012, which carried a photo of a white haired politician in casual attired in blue and something about him being a tax cheat and other such goings on.

Barry Clifford