Nuggets of Wisdom

After a sabbatical of three years, the People of Ireland have welcomed Clondalkin taxi driver James Carthage Nugent back into the public arena. It all began last Saturday afternoon. Under the weathering effects of one too many pints of Smithwick's the night before, a particularly irritable Mr Nugent was seen on Henry Street, attempting to do some shopping. The word 'bollocks' was heard leaving his lips an inordinate amount of times, even for a man with such an affection and proclivity for the expletive. After a largely fruitless couple of hours, wandering from shop to shop, Jimmy found himself in McDonald's, eager to satisfy his growing hunger. He was quickly discouraged by the long queues he encountered.  His abilities not dampened by the rawness of his hangover, the ingenious and decisive man took action. He turned on his heels, exited, and tried his luck with a nearby Burger King. Unfortunately for Jimmy, Burger King was host to even longer and less orderly queues. He angrily waited in line for five minutes, muttering contemptuous lines under his breath. When he was one place from the counter, his patience gave way and he scolded the entire staff from afar. A ten-minute verbal battle ensued, Mr Nugent schooling the Burger King workers in efficiency and quality service. He skilfully wove blunt moral platitudes into his arguments, punctuated with his hallmark vocabulary of 'bollocks', 'gobshite', and 'clowns'. He was soon removed from the premises by security, in a manner undignified for a man of such stature. 

However, the patriot and saviour of our economy was not to be defeated so easily. A mere two yards from the Burger King entrance, he delivered his manifesto for the future of fast food. A crowd gathered around him, soon wondering if the Lord himself had hit chords so sweetly and sagaciously when he gave the Sermon on the Mount. "We should nationalise all fast-food places," he told his captive audience. "I'd fire all the lazy staff first," he declared, pulling no punches. Mr Nugent continued for many minutes more, divulging further details of his plan. Everything will be centralised and highly organised, creating a lightning-fast service. "We will use the army to boost the workforce. And there should be a fast lane for those who are genuinely hungry." To save time, French fries, Jimmy suggested, should be cooked in factories outside the city, frozen in large blocks of grease, and then heated up in restaurants. 

Artist's impression of our brave Nugent world. 

Within an hour of his declaration, Mr Nugent had satiated his hunger in Leo Burdock's, and his views had somewhat moderated, focussing more on the dismissal of the Burger King staff he had encountered. The outburst, however, has resonated with many people, and, combined with his other recent propositions, it is now being called 'the Nugent Deal' (referred to in the international press, mistakenly as the 'McNugget Deal'). Published by some of his devoted followers, the five-page document recommends (among other ideas) the following:  buses should be allowed to run red lights to shorten journey times; The Revenue should have a staff of 100,000 people, so that nobody ever has to wait on the phone; there should be high-speed underground tunnels across the city centre to speed up traffic; Irish people should have priority during the sales and on flight tickets in this country; Michael O'Leary should be made president and should be allowed to sanction capital punishment; there should be a five-year wait for a new taxi plate; we should have an Irish equivalent of the French Foreign Legion for delinquent youths; the ombudsman should have an ombudsman, who in turn should have an ombudsman; alcohol should only be taxed if you are jobless or homeless; we should stop all foreign aid and instead build houses for the homeless (unless they are on drugs or haven't been looking for a job); the country should be federalised according to the ancient kingdoms of Ireland; the Hill of Tara should be the host of a newly built capital; our new national anthem should be For What Died the Sons of Róisín. 

As paradigm-shifting as always, Jimmy Nugent has once again sent shockwaves throughout the corridors of power. Many members of the Oireachtas have emphatically endorsed the Deal, gushing like star-struck, giddy schoolgirls. However, political commentators are doubtful about how much will get implemented, noting that the sway of Mr Nugent is not what it used to be. An Taoiseach Leo Varadkar, bungling his way through a response to the declaration, said he liked many of the proposals, but he regretfully emphasised that the government could not easily abandon its programme of unprovoked slights at the working classes.