Gerry Adams must be kicking himself. He’s been pipped at the post for this week’s Graceless Git award by Morrissey. Yesterday Morrissey described the Queen as being in the same tyrannical club as Gaddafi, thereby insulting in one stupid utterance both Her Majesty and all those people whose lives have been blighted by the Libyan horror.
Morrissey. Does anyone remember Morrissey? Actually, I think I know why he’s chosen this moment to revive his embittered Oirishness. He has a new album out. The ever-resentful Mr Adams has no such imperative. With him it’s never enough to say ‘sorry’. He enjoys his grievances too much to let them go and move on.
The people of Dublin seem happy enough to have the Queen here. There have been a few complaints about the cost of the security operation but as Barry O’Bama is arriving next week, sure they’d have had to check all the manhole covers anyway. There was one hilarious moment yesterday when anti-imperialist protesters unleashed their weapon du jour, black balloons – wouldn’t you love to have been a fly on the wall when the strategy committee decided on that one? – and because no-one had thought to check which way the wind was blowing they sailed away from their target unnoticed. It was the perfect visual Irish joke.
We’ll be absent during Mr Obama’s visit and just as well. On my American husband’s list of despised Presidents he’s up there with Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter. Had we been in town I fear I might have had to stop Mr F breaking out his cache of black balloons. But we’ll be in Greece, which is why this blog will be falling silent for a week.
We’re going to a wedding and my friend Tone wanted to know if it’ll be like a scene from Mamma Mia. I think it will. But I’ll be more Julie Walters than Meryl Streep. Also, I can’t wear platforms. I suffer from age and ouzo-related vertigo.