Jason OMahony - Irish political blogger, Irish politics, EU politics

“Proper Order!” turns to “Concerns about civil liberties” as state orders DNA tests on ALL parents.

Posted by Jason O on Oct 27, 2013 in Irish Politics, Not quite serious.

The decision of the Minister for Children to order all parents, not just Roma parents, to submit to DNA tests to verify that their children are in fact their own has met with a “mixed response”. Sources close to the minister, explaining the policy, suggested that “given that many people in the non-Roma community supported the Garda action this week, we thought, in the interests of Better Safe Than Sorry, to check to make sure that everybody’s kids were who the parents say they were.”

A large number of solicitors letters originating in South Dublin have already arrived in the Department, and a number of barristers have announced that they will be challenging the policy in the High Court. One leading barrister stressed that they were doing so “purely to test the constitutional principle of the policy, and for absolutely no other reason, and if you run a picture of Prince Harry anywhere near my statement I’ll see you in the High Court too.”

Dublin Airport denied that the large increase in young Baltic au pairs leaving the country with young infants has anything to do with the minister’s announcement.

 The National Milkman, Polish Handyman and Tennis Professional Coach Union has expressed its vehement opposition to the new policy announcement in a statement today.


An Occasional Guide to Modern Life: The Journey Alone.

Posted by Jason O on Oct 27, 2013 in An Occasional Guide to Modern Life

It’s not as much a single moment as a gradual acceptance. She’s known relationships and love and happiness in them, but that is the past. The men she loved were good men, and she seemed to have avoided the monsters other women had met, but still, it was not to be.

Now, occasionally, on a street or through a friend on Facebook, she’ll see them, with their new lovers, wives, children. She is now just a discarded fragment of someone else’s life, a crumpled paper ball of an relationship that might once have had merit, might have grown into something beautiful, but is now abandoned, perhaps even the source of rolled eyes and “what was I thinking?”

For her, it’s not unhappiness, per se. Loneliness comes, in waves, but the funny thing about loneliness is that it’s a known quantity. It can be managed, and distracted, and tricked by other pursuits, hobbies, sports, reading, friends. Never quite extinguished, especially not in bed, where she sleeps against a pillow if only to feel it against her, reflecting her own heat back, something against her, in the night.

Places hurt. She can never return to the Place de la Concorde because that was where he held her on a cold winter’s night, a thousand tiny white lights around them, and for a moment she had everything she wanted. Now the Place would just be a reminder that her most cherished memory was merely the high point on a slope to pain and tears.

Same with words. She’ll hear a word, an inflection, and it’ll remind her of him and what’s gone.

And yet, she’ll manage, and carry on, and find that curious settlement that comes from accepting where one is and where one is going. She doesn’t worry as much about fitting into that dress or whether she should have that biscuit, and the liberation is tangible.

It feels like a section of her life has finally been neatly parcelled away and stored carefully on a top shelf. Not thrown away, not obliterated forever, just put away.

Perhaps it will be opened again one day. But, as she gets older, she recognises, perhaps not.

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