January
The year begins in miserable fashion. The country has no money and most of the country has no water. The government ministers who went on holidays sometime in December when the snow started to fall, finally come back and announce to the nation that they have a plan – and it isn’t even a four year plan this time. Instead, they say, it is a simple plan, one that will bring warmer weather and the prospect of jobs again. “Let’s all move to Australia!”
Meanwhile in Donegal a postman is predicting that we can expect weather for all of the rest of the year. “Oh, without a doubt, there will be days when it rains, or it might be windy and if the sun comes out in the morning over the hills there could be some sunny days too. That said, in the winter months it might get cold and if the leaves fall off the trees then there is a chance there might be some frost or even snow.”
This sends the NRA into a panic and they announce that they will fly to Egypt in November or early December to order salt. Their flight takes them over the Carrickfergus Salt Mines in County Antrim that produces 500,000 tonnes of de-icing salt every year!
February
There is uproar in February when the government announces its intention to buy anything up to a dozen new banks. It later emerges the banks are piggy banks to be used for retiring ministers to hoard away their ministerial pensions.
There is great excitement in the Department of Finance when news filters through that trainee miners on a government training scheme have discovered diamonds in Donegal and plans are being hurriedly drawn up to sell the mining rights when it emerges the diamonds in question in Donegal Town, Raphoe and Carndonagh – are not diamonds at all but triangles! The trainees are told they won’t get any certificates. Nobody can see the point in triangles.
March
Election fever sweeps the country as the candidates go in search of a cushy job with a huge salary and great pension prospects. The IMF insist that all names appear on the ballot paper in German and French as well as in English and Irish and the reverse of the ballot papers will carry details of the week’s specials at Lidl and Aldi.
Meanwhile angry voters tackle candidates about the state of the economy, the high unemployment rate, the bank bailouts and about the state of the roads. Many candidates promise that they will look into the potholes.
April
The country gets set for the future under a new coalition government of Fine Gael, Labour, Sinn Féin and a handful of independents leaving the three Fianna Fail TDs and a few independents on the opposition benches. There is much weeping and grinding of teeth in the Kerry parishes who had not yet received their new pumps.
But all is not well in the corridors of power either and a row of volcanic proportions is about to erupt over the selection of new Taoiseach. The chairman of the first meeting of the new coalition asks – “Who wants to be Taoiseach then?” and brings a whole lot of ‘lamha suas.’ Eventually a new Taoiseach is elected but a major cloud lingers over the new government for weeks.
May
New Taoiseach Deputy Adams announces that the government will re-introduce the trainee mining scheme in the hope that Ireland can find some gold, oil, diamonds, platinum…anything that might make a few quid for the country and allow the government to send the IMF boys packing.
“Failing that we might see if there is anything left in the Pension Reserve Fund or we might even have a look around to see if there are any oul gold yokes lying around in the National Museum that we can post away to those cash for gold boys.”
June
Ireland’s reliance on oil is drawn into sharp focus when the global oil markets go crazy and petrol, diesel and home heating oil prices rocket. This leads many to begin the search for alternative fuels and thousands across the country head back to the bog to dig their own turf. However this causes a huge run on the turf banks and fears are expressed that if the government does not intervene to bail out the banks, people might be left with ‘sod all.’
In an effort to boost job numbers, the government also announces it is to tackle the scourge of empty ghost estates across the country by simply knocking them all down. They hope to create thousands of jobs and raise some spirits under the 'Ghostbusters scheme.'
July
A spokesperson for the NRA says that they have already begun planning ahead for the winter and while their salt order is on its way by ship and expected within a month or six, they can confirm that they have secured 100,000 tonnes of pepper at a knock-down price.
“It’s a great deal and not one to be sneezed at,” the spokesman insists. “Our aim this winter is to keep the country’s primary routes clear of snow. Snot going to be a repeat of last year.”
Meanwhile after two weeks of sunshine, councils across the country announce that they will have to ration water due to shortages.
“Our system isn’t designed to cope with hot weather, or umm, cold weather. However we have been carrying out some investigations and it turns out that many of the pipes we have been using were manufactured in a former green grocers. We think that’s how some of the leeks got into them!”
August
Nothing ever happens in Ireland in August, sure doesn’t the whole place close down. No schools, or courts and the politicians are all off as well.
But it’s different in 2011 because the country is gripped by an unfolding story after it emerges that 28 members of the government have been trapped in one of the mines dug by the trainees searching for rubies in a mountain of rocks.
As the drama unfolds it emerges that the politicians were not trapped by some accident but that one of the trainees has deliberately closed the mine shaft on them.
“They’ve been shafting us for years, I wanted them to feel what it’s like being shafted,” he said.
A full twenty minutes go by before the door is opened and the politicians emerge one by one in a bubble saying that they understand what people are going through and they have everything moving in the right direction for the good of the country. One was also overheard to say – ‘It was chilly down there.”
September
The new government proves to be every bit as controversial as the old one when the new Minister for Education, (one of the independent TDs elected, all round know-it-all and owner of the new government jet) announces a new schoolbag tax.
Any schoolbags not booked online with the school will be subject to a €5 tax at the school gate, while students who book their bags in online will only have to pay €3.
The plan fails miserably though when it is discovered that most schools have computer systems that pre-date the internet and are not in a position to deal with online booking. (Oh yeah, plus their unions wouldn’t allow the teachers to take the bookings anyway even if they had good computers!)
October
Tension grows between the coalition partners as the country struggles to dig its way out of recession and the public continues to vent its anger by ringing radio talk shows.
In a cunning plan, they decide not to repeat the cheese fiasco of the previous government and announce instead free gobstoppers for all for the month of October.
“Ha, that’ll shut them up for a while,” one Minister is overheard to say.
Meanwhile it emerges that even though a huge chunk of the money borrowed from the IMF has already been spent, some of the banks are looking for more.
The news is leaked on Twitter and a new wave of concern about Ireland’s finances begins to circulate. The Minister for Finance and the Taoiseach come on tv to say everything will be grand at least til the next summer, or until those trainees finally find something in one of those mines – whichever comes sooner.
November
Even though the government had been forced into an embarrassing climb-down on the school bag tax, students take to the streets in November because, well because they hadn’t taken to the streets any other month of this year so far.
The Minister for Education meanwhile unveils a new scheme to turn Terminal 2 at Dublin Airport into a new ‘low fees’ university. “If this country is going to take off again, this will be the place it’ll take off from,” he insists. Opposition TDS blast the plan as a white elephant.
IMF officials arrive in Dublin to check on the country’s books and are reported to be less than impressed with what they see.
“Some of them haven’t even been covered in old wallpaper yet!”
December
The government’s popularity hits a new low and when several Ministers arrive together in a show of unity at the opening of an envelope, they are attacked by angry paint-throwing councillors. (Some of the paint thrown seems to be expensive silk emulsion and later raises questions about expenses to local public representatives.) Lazy copy-writers roll out all the old ‘Rainbow coalition’ clichés in the headlines the next day.
Snow begins to fall in Galway, Donegal, Longford, Carlow, Wexford and Limerick. Nobody gives a shit. Then as the first flakes fall in Dublin all hell breaks loose and the NRA announces that their new snow emergency plan is on a ship on its way from Egypt along with the salt they have ordered.
A postman from Donegal tells people he had predicted that there would be snow. People believe him.
Tension erupts again when some of the coalition partners forget to send Christmas cards to each other. Saying they were making a donation to charity instead does not resolve the situation and the Taoiseach announces that the government will be dissolved and an election called for March or April the following year.
Two days later the trainee miners strike a rich seam of gold deposits.
Papers end the year by running with – ‘Gold at the end of the rainbow’ headlines.
