Here I am, Here I stay

I think it would be remiss of me not to notify my fellow Gaels of an interesting snippet of table-quiz trouncing knowledge (If only that noble pursuit hadn't long ago been annihilated by rapid evolution and abuse of internet capable portable telephones and similar devices) though for a time I'd considered guarding it jealously for myself to add to the pile of accrued wisdom which I will reflect back on at the end of my life and cackle in pleasure at - this forbidden lore known only to a select few.

But I'll let you in on this one, seeing as you're probably Radge, and there is a relevance.
So, if you want to amuse and astound your brethren, sit back, cross your legs, jut your lower lip in concentration, squint your eyes and heed my words of education.

Once upon a time, a distinguished family from Limerick, the Mac-Mahons saw the light and moved to France, there they lived long, fruitful cheese-fulfilled lives and produced a son by the name of Patrice.
Unlike so many of his fellow emmigrants young Paddy enjoyed a luxurious and privileged life and so logically sought to ease his ennui through military service. So off he went to Algeria to kill people, and he enjoyed himself immensely in this until being shot. But people were made of sterner stuff back then so he got over it and soon was back merrily killing people again, and effectively, so much so that he became General of the Foreign Legion - the most infamous and murderous of all French regiments.
So efficiently bloodthirsty and cunning was Paddy that, having acquitted himself well in the Crimean War and other engagements Napoleon the Third made him a Duke. Nice one!
Paddy loved killing arabs, that's for sure, but when the Germanic folk started acting up he soon showed that he was just as dextrous at killing those filthy Prussian dogs too. Only problem was, there were far too many of them and better organised, so Paddy had to let hundreds of his own men die before he figured out that he'd better retreat and figure out how to deal with the Hun. But it was all right, as they were Alsatians, nearly German themselves sure, thought Paddy.
Worse was to come though, as he decided to follow Napoleon to Sedan, and we all know how that ended. As for Paddy, he got shot again. Everything looked fucked.
But chance was to come his way, as in the aftermath of that disastrous conflict for France, disgruntled workers and bookish types with those John Lennon round glasses started asking for this that and the other and wanted to run the show according to new fangled ideas like social democracy and autonomy. Bollocks to that! Thought the upper classes and establishment and so each side thought it best to try and solve the situation through the time honoured method of bloodshed and murder.
T'was a bloody week.
But in the end Duke Paddy Mac-Mahon, who was leading the Versailles troops managed to get the upper hand and the Communards gave it up. After this surrender Paddy, keeping his eye on the ball, played his trump card - he had pretty much the whole lot of them, and thousands of other workers, rounded up and killed.
That's what they get!
This sort of thing looked great on a CV back then and so it was to pass that Paddy became nominated the first and only French President of Limerick origins. A job he did for six years.
Now, if you go to Charles De Gaulle Etoile, you can take one of the mighty avenues that come off this impressive star, one of which is Avenue Mac-Mahon, in honour of this fine killer of men.
And of course he left French history with one of it's fondest, and funniest military quotes -

La fièvre typhoïde est une maladie terrible. Ou on en meurt, ou on en reste idiot. Et je sais de quoi je parle, je l'ai eue.


To Mac-Mahon!

(clink)

Chinese Gooseberries all round!

I've just discovered the kiwi!

Let me explain. You see, all my life I've avoided eating kiwis just on the basis that they look like a German Shepard's ball bag. And they do. That's fairly indisputable. So I happily went about my life plucking kiwi pieces out of fruit salads, avoiding kiwi milkshakes, and generally living a gentle, undisturbed or remarked-upon kiwi-free existence.

But I was wrong.

The other day in the caféteria they had no mandarins left, what was I to do then in order to round off my dessert? Quandry you see, as I'd already eaten a banana that morning and the apples had nothing going for them. So I decided, well, what's a kiwi next to a horse's dick? And so I took a couple and put them on my tray, all the while fidgeting nervously knowing that hardened kiwi-eaters were looking on with suspicion as I ineptly handled them. You seem to just have to rotate two kiwis in your hand, and that leads the mind into dark, dark places.... But anyway, when it came to eating them I didn't know what to do. I started to peel them mandarin-style but it wasn't working out, the skin was tough and not coming off in smooth peels but in little unglorious bits, I was destroying the kiwi.
Panic!!

I could feel the gazes of others on me as I put it down and pretended I wanted to eat something else, but there was nothing else left on the plate, I had to keep going! I started to eat it like an apple, but there wasn't enough peel gone and I could only get my incisors in there and scrape out miserable shreds, juice getting on my cheeks, stares of gallic reproach lancing into me from all corners of the restaurant. I was fucking up in front of my peers!!! But then suddenly it didn't matter.......the taste....this taste that I had for no good reason denied myself for so long....I'd never tasted a kiwi before. They are gorgeous. In fact, now I rate them one of the best fruits of all time because unlike most other fruits....YOU CAN EAT THE PIPS!! What a revelation. And so I have learned the true way of eating them, like a boiled egg, scooping them with a spoon. Well, what more can I say but that the old French saying is true, 'never be put off by food that looks like a nutsac, unless it's actually hanging off an animal'

The Kiwi, the fruit so good it could almost apply for meat status.

And it would have a good case for getting it!





*********STOP THE PRESS*********
Additional pertinent kiwi information discovered post blog.

Kiwifruit also serves as a natural blood thinner. A recent study performed at the University of Oslo in Norway reveals that--similar to popular mainstream aspirin therapy-consuming two to three kiwifruit daily for 28 days significantly thins the blood, reducing the risk of clots, and lowers fat in the blood that can cause blockages.[10]

Perspective through the dendrites

Crunching through the freshly packed Parisian snow yesterday the cold reached such an intensity that I did a deed I hadn't done in years.
I pulled up my scarf to cover my nose.
Strange memories came to me then with the stifling, prickly sensation of icy wool on the muzzle as I bore on against the incessantly falling flakes towards the crisply glittering lights of La Défense.
Fractal memories of shivering in another epoch, similarly wrapped, standing atop a truck dangerously over-laden with fossil fuel, itself frosted over. The scaldingly cold pain as rime-covered plastic bale twine cuts into finger joints. Or slippery coal sacks rip free from numb digits. Freezing Saturday mornings spent like that, with glimpses of other kids through windows enjoying the cartoons.
Well, that was a bummer.

But that being said, and hard work aside, I had a great childhood. And an animal adolescence.
And a brilliant life now.

And as the temperatures drop again, and I make it back to mon quartier and notch up the heating in all the rooms, I notice the homeless guys outside. Then turn to the TV to see Palestinien kids getting blown asunder.

I'm a lucky, lucky man.