that any of our feathered friends—loyalist or republican—are anything other than peace-loving democrats who need their confidence built up and a blank wall comes down.’
‘So it was punishment…’
‘…for innumerable heresies and tasteless jokes. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I’ve a quick call to make before nine o’clock.’
***
‘Tough luck,’ said the baroness to Amiss, as they walked towards the seminar room. ‘It was mean of the minister to take that piece of crumpet back to Dublin. You’ve missed your chance now.’
Amiss sighed. ‘I certainly didn’t expect him to be such a killjoy as to take off in the middle of the night. You’re all right, though. Have you had your evil way with Aisling yet? Or is she remaining stoutly heterosexual?’
‘Early days, Robert. Early days. She needs a little time to wake up to her bisexuality. I don’t expect success for another day or two.’ She snorted vulgarly. ‘Night or two, I should have said.’
‘Why don’t you try a man for a change? Simon seems keen on you.’
She sighed. ‘I’ll have a go if Aisling fails me. But it has to be faced that there aren’t that many younger men who fancy someone of my age and weight…’
‘Especially when you throw it around all the time.’
‘They do seem to find me a bit frightening, though I’m buggered if I know why. No, apart from the faithful Myles, male lovers are a bit thin on the ground these days. Women, however, are still a happy hunting ground.’ As Aisling came around the corner, the baroness smirked. ‘And I’m still happily hunting.’
***
It was ten minutes past nine and several participants were still absent. ‘I’m not going to wait any longer for the layabouts,’ said the baroness. ‘It’s time we addressed ourselves to the rebarbatively titled issue of…’ She looked down at her papers and wrinkled her nose. ‘…“Parity of Esteem: seeing others as they see themselves.”’
She threw a lustful glance at Aisling, who was busily talking into a microphone. ‘Now apparently every delegation is to show a film that’ll make the rest of us…’ She looked at her brief and snarled, ‘…culturally aware. There’s seven of them to get through so we’d better get cracking. Who wants to go first?’
‘ Ba mhaith linn bheith ag an …’ said Laochraí.
Steeples interrupted. ‘Are you going to speak in Irish?’
‘ Aisling, más é do thoil é ,’ said Laochraí. Aisling looked up from her microphone. ‘Laochraí wants me to translate from English into Irish as well. What Mr Steeples said was “ An bhfuil tú chun Gaeilge a labhairt? ”’
‘ Tá mé. ’
‘That means “yes,”’ said Aisling.
‘Is anyone else intending to speak Irish?’ asked the baroness.
‘ An bhfuil aon …’
‘Hold it, Aisling, just for a minute.’ The baroness narrowed her eyes to read their name cards. ‘Father O’Flynn, do you want to speak in Irish?’
‘Er, no.’
‘Can’t or don’t want to?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I entirely agree with Laochraí that proceedings should be conducted in what is Ireland’s first national language, and if that requires translators, so be it.’
‘But you don’t speak it.’
‘That is neither here nor there.’
‘And Mr MacPhrait?’
‘I agree with Cormac.’
‘It would be an outrage to do anything else,’ said Kelly-Mae.
‘Do you know a word of Irish?’
‘I know “Chuckee or law,”’ she said proudly.
‘ Tiocfaidh ár lá ,’ said Aisling. ‘Our day will come.’
‘The slogan of the IRA,’ said Gibson.
The three MOPEs looked at the ceiling in embarrassment.
‘So no one here understands Irish,’ said Steeples, ‘except Miss de Búrca and the interpreter.’
Okinawa pointed to his nose. ‘I also,’ he said. ‘Though my English is better.’
‘And of course,’ said Charles Taylor, ‘it may be that Mr O’Farrell and the other Irish representative might wish to speak it.’
The baroness shot him
‘So it was punishment…’
‘…for innumerable heresies and tasteless jokes. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I’ve a quick call to make before nine o’clock.’
***
‘Tough luck,’ said the baroness to Amiss, as they walked towards the seminar room. ‘It was mean of the minister to take that piece of crumpet back to Dublin. You’ve missed your chance now.’
Amiss sighed. ‘I certainly didn’t expect him to be such a killjoy as to take off in the middle of the night. You’re all right, though. Have you had your evil way with Aisling yet? Or is she remaining stoutly heterosexual?’
‘Early days, Robert. Early days. She needs a little time to wake up to her bisexuality. I don’t expect success for another day or two.’ She snorted vulgarly. ‘Night or two, I should have said.’
‘Why don’t you try a man for a change? Simon seems keen on you.’
She sighed. ‘I’ll have a go if Aisling fails me. But it has to be faced that there aren’t that many younger men who fancy someone of my age and weight…’
‘Especially when you throw it around all the time.’
‘They do seem to find me a bit frightening, though I’m buggered if I know why. No, apart from the faithful Myles, male lovers are a bit thin on the ground these days. Women, however, are still a happy hunting ground.’ As Aisling came around the corner, the baroness smirked. ‘And I’m still happily hunting.’
***
It was ten minutes past nine and several participants were still absent. ‘I’m not going to wait any longer for the layabouts,’ said the baroness. ‘It’s time we addressed ourselves to the rebarbatively titled issue of…’ She looked down at her papers and wrinkled her nose. ‘…“Parity of Esteem: seeing others as they see themselves.”’
She threw a lustful glance at Aisling, who was busily talking into a microphone. ‘Now apparently every delegation is to show a film that’ll make the rest of us…’ She looked at her brief and snarled, ‘…culturally aware. There’s seven of them to get through so we’d better get cracking. Who wants to go first?’
‘ Ba mhaith linn bheith ag an …’ said Laochraí.
Steeples interrupted. ‘Are you going to speak in Irish?’
‘ Aisling, más é do thoil é ,’ said Laochraí. Aisling looked up from her microphone. ‘Laochraí wants me to translate from English into Irish as well. What Mr Steeples said was “ An bhfuil tú chun Gaeilge a labhairt? ”’
‘ Tá mé. ’
‘That means “yes,”’ said Aisling.
‘Is anyone else intending to speak Irish?’ asked the baroness.
‘ An bhfuil aon …’
‘Hold it, Aisling, just for a minute.’ The baroness narrowed her eyes to read their name cards. ‘Father O’Flynn, do you want to speak in Irish?’
‘Er, no.’
‘Can’t or don’t want to?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I entirely agree with Laochraí that proceedings should be conducted in what is Ireland’s first national language, and if that requires translators, so be it.’
‘But you don’t speak it.’
‘That is neither here nor there.’
‘And Mr MacPhrait?’
‘I agree with Cormac.’
‘It would be an outrage to do anything else,’ said Kelly-Mae.
‘Do you know a word of Irish?’
‘I know “Chuckee or law,”’ she said proudly.
‘ Tiocfaidh ár lá ,’ said Aisling. ‘Our day will come.’
‘The slogan of the IRA,’ said Gibson.
The three MOPEs looked at the ceiling in embarrassment.
‘So no one here understands Irish,’ said Steeples, ‘except Miss de Búrca and the interpreter.’
Okinawa pointed to his nose. ‘I also,’ he said. ‘Though my English is better.’
‘And of course,’ said Charles Taylor, ‘it may be that Mr O’Farrell and the other Irish representative might wish to speak it.’
The baroness shot him
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