Ragtag Giggagon

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Guests of the New Republic (Part 3) OR VISITORS TO THE COUNTRY OF ETHNIC SAMENESS (Part 3 as well) An Early Childhood by Paddy Flanagan is a mock, surreal autobiography by a fictional Irish literary figurehead, champion bodhrán player and broadcaster. This chapter is a parody of Frank O'Connor's short story Guests of the Nation . Continued from Part 2 of Chapter 14 .             Every morning, before the crack of dawn, the 5.40am Drogheda to Kingstown Express Steam Train Full of Britishers pumped its way past the farmhouse, ignorant of environmental bylaws, noise pollution, and indeed, our very presence at this wonderful Bed n Breakfast run by the wonderful hostess Mildred Ackerman. Five stars in Yelp and four in Trip Advisor.             But not this morning came the natural alarm of industrialisation. Oh, no, begorrah. This morning, it was delayed due to a convenient shortage of coal that had been organised by the Big Fellow, Michael Coll

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Guests of the New Republic (Part 2) OR VISITORS TO THE COUNTRY OF ETHNIC SAMENESS (Part 2 as well) An Early Childhood by Paddy Flanagan is a mock, surreal autobiography by a fictional Irish literary figurehead, champion bodhrán player and broadcaster. This chapter is a parody of Frank O'Connor's short story Guests of the Nation . Continued from Part 1 of Chapter 14 .             Of course, the other prisoner, Eaglekins, was a little smaller and more mouthy and clearly an American. He spoke with a very poor British accent, as if he was an American, badly cast in a movie, trying to be British – but there’d be no stopping him winning an Oscar a few years later if he had put his heart and soul into playing a mad dictator, for example. But I could never figure out that accent at all at all.             Eaglekins always lost at the Monopoly or Scrabble games because he was always more interested in the banther. He’d lose the games, and lose his

CHAPTER 14: Guests of the New Republic (Part 1) OR VISITORS TO THE COUNTRY OF ETHNIC SAMENESS (Part 1 as well) An Early Childhood by Paddy Flanagan is a mock, surreal autobiography by a fictional Irish literary figurehead, champion bodhrán player and broadcaster. This chapter is a parody of Frank O'Connor's short story Guests of the Nation .   Continued from the end of Chapter 13 - in this case, unlucky for two Englishmen.               Englanders Burper and Eaglekins were our prisoners for some months while we resided at the safehouse. Our commanding officer was Mike Donovan. He had a very definite kind of a military style haircut and a pencilled on moustache, and the flecks of spittle in the corners of his mouth. He also had a certain air of duty about him which the rest of us lacked, black marketeers and all the rest that we’d been. Back in the Potato Famine, Mike Donovan’s father had only gone and taken a job as a tax collector. Zacchaeus Donovan had been t

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE TROUT OF FIERCE INTELLIGENCE AND OTHER ADVENTURES (PART FIVE) Continued from Chapter 13 Part 4 .                 The following morning, at five minutes to midday, Tancred Moorphy M’Nally was led out of the gaol and into the courtyard of the mayor’s townhouse where hundreds of people had gathered to watch the execution, including a regiment of British soldiers with Colonel Tiptoft at its head.                 The executioner, a man in a hood, stood with an axe at the ready while Tancred was placed in the block of the guillotine. The executioner raised his axe on the order of Colonel Tiptoft who held his arm aloft and the executioner awaited the Colonel’s signal to cut the rope that held up the blade. The Colonel’s arm came down and with it came the axe, neatly cleaving the rope apart. The blade swung downwards and the executioner slammed the axe into the side of the guillotine. The blade of the guillotine struck the axehead just inches from Tancred’s neck and I un

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE TROUT OF FIERCE INTELLIGENCE AND OTHER ADVENTURES (PART FOUR) Continued from Chapter 13 Part 3 .                 “Well, Holy God!” I said, and I poured myself another whiskey. Knocking it back, I watched as Tancred fought, and fought he did. I drank another dram as he pulled an arrow from his quiver but it was knocked from his grasp because it was still before nine pm and he didn’t want anything to look too gruesome at that hour, so he thumped the pat rafter who’d knocked it from his grasp and smashed two more pat rafters’ heads together. By the time he had been utterly overcome by the group of pat rafters, he’d felled some fourteen odd of them and I had had a few more shots of whiskey. Jarlath O’Halloran the bar manager and I exchanged glances at each other after staring out the window, our mouths agog. But I took full advantage of his mouth agoguery, and I punched Jarlath O’Halloran in the face and knocked him senseless. After two more whiskeys, I tied him up

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A REQUEST FOR ASSISTANCE, THE TROUT OF FIERCE INTELLIGENCE AND OTHER ADVENTURES (PART THREE) An Early Childhood by Paddy Flanagan is a mock, surreal autobiography by a fictional Irish literary figurehead, champion bodhrán player and broadcaster.   Continued from Chapter 13 Part 2 .                 John Fisherman O’Reilly became obsessed with the Trout of Fierce Intelligence after falling in love with Gráinne and hearing my report of her demise. The Trout of Fierce Intelligence was – of course – a legendary fish. It was said that if the fish was caught and eaten, then whoever ate it became blessed with genius. John Fisherman O’Reilly sat on the bank of the River Shandy day in, day out, for months and months in an attempt to catch that fish. He caught plenty of halibut and salmon, but not a whisker of trout met his lure.                 At any rate, I was patrolling my hometown one evening with Tancred, evading the recognised police force and the British army while w

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A REQUEST FOR ASSISTANCE, THE TROUT OF FIERCE INTELLIGENCE AND OTHER ADVENTURES (PART TWO) An Early Childhood by Paddy Flanagan is a mock, surreal autobiography by a fictional Irish literary figurehead, champion bodhrán player and broadcaster.   Continued from Chapter 13 Part 1 .                The fourteen hopefuls were streaming out of the park.                 I stood facing Little Billy Boy Cullen, my hands gripping the seams of my big boy trousers in nervousness.                 “I told youze all to GET OUT!” Bill said, barely acknowledging me.                 “I’m not an apprentice. My name is Paddy Flanagan. I’m an enemy of the Fair Folk.”                 “You’re a wha’? Billy Boy asked.                 “Let’s just say I need your help to make amends with the leprechauns and the fair folk, Master Cullen.”                 “Is this to do with that warlock weatherhead I’ve been hearing all them rumours about?”                 “Yes. I need your help defeating hi

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A REQUEST FOR ASSISTANCE, THE TROUT OF FIERCE INTELLIGENCE AND OTHER ADVENTURES (PART ONE) An Early Childhood by Paddy Flanagan is a mock, surreal autobiography by a fictional Irish literary figurehead, champion bodhrán player and broadcaster.   Continued from Chapter 12 Part 5 .                 Little Billy Boy Cullen wheeled his own pram into the park, brimming to the top with apples. He set up his desk quickly – which comprised a bench and a plastic seat under it, small enough as he was to sit at the bench and use it as his desk – and his nameplate and Little Jackie in her Baby Gro beside him on the one side and flanking him on the other side was Wiggle Beeyian, not older than two months of age if he was a year, except only a tadpole at this stage, what was known in those days as a jizzler, with a whisper of hairgrowth atop his head and the big rugby player’s head already fully formed on him, and his body comprising the tail a-flippin’ and a-flappin’.           

CHAPTER TWELVE: MY ADVENTURE WITH THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL EVER AND A BETRAYAL BY ONE OF MY MEN (PART FOUR) Continued from Chapter 12 Part 3                 John Fisherman O’Reilly (who was now quite insane), Sean Tubridy O’Reilly (related by marriage) and Tancred Moorphy M’Nally were awaiting my return. On the way back to the cave, I had already formulated my plan.                 “Quick, men – no time for banter, just do as I say and play along!” I said, “I want us waiting outside the cave now and speaking loud enough to be heard for some distance but not shouting.”                 So we left the cave, and the four of us crouched at its mouth. I kept an eye out for the Brits and as soon as I saw a torch in the distance, I said loudly enough to be heard by the Brits:                 “I wonder when Charlo’s going to return with that British regiment so that we can massacre them?”                 “Charlo’s coming back with British soldiers?” Tancred Moorphy M’Nally asked.