Thank you excellent poem. all I can say to you point is, well, to plagerise someone I can't remember, the more things change the more things remain the same.
Anyway, becasue its easy to criticise and was rude of me to do so without throwing my own bit in I've done an alternative start. I'm not sure it fits with the other efforts which I really enjoyed, apart from the slightly bizarre prejudices about Irish countryside life they betrayed! I guess its in the tradition of Melville to digress......
There are certain occupations which lend themselves towards a unique view of the world. Likewise certain acts which once attempted mark the hearts of those who dare to try. What follows is the story of a group of people, unremarkable in almost everyway except one who put aside the normal considerations of life one wet and cold January. They set about a task so unique it is sure to mark them in a way that those who haven't tried it will ever know. They set forth from the smal village of Kilbrittan to steal the head of a whale. You see the occupation of whaler is a formerly honourable one lately fallen into disrepute. It was not always so and once lent itself to a romance unequalled by taking a kings shilling or going a tramp on the railroads.
The whale swam into the bay for god knows what reason.
They had all enjoyed the bother of it. The fat gardai in their awkward wellies, the UCC crowd and a few out of towners brightened the place up a hell of a lot. And the men of kilbrittan gave good service and it must be said that it was through no fault of these that the creature had died.
The only upsetting thing was all those uppity bastards from Courtmacsharry all over the place, getting the attention. They even almost got Badger Nolan on tv as a community spokesperson until the lads from RTE realised that were being had. The media had been all over the story for a few days and they sure lapped up the attention. Those fools in Court were acting like the peasants some had always suspected them to be. Who would remember a two minute item in 6.1 seven months from now. No one only themselves. That it seemed was that.
Dan Halloran was a man wityh a plan however. The incident had awkened memories of a time long ago when he went on a school trip to Youghal to see the set of Moby Dick back in his primary school days. For a brief period that year he was fascinated by whaling, the film and in particular the bar with the massive polished jawbone of a whale. He had made a few discreet enquiries and found that after UCC had finished with it they would leave the rest for Cork Co co to tow out to sea. The jawbone? Well UCC had a fine example already so no they were not going to touch it.
And so it can to pass that on that day five men and a chainsaw found themselves rounding the bay and making towards the layby near the mud flats, where a few days before the RTE location unit had filmed from. Dan had managed to win the others round with images of glory at the expense of Courtmacsahrry.
Courtmacsharry had awoke to find itself at the centre of a minor media storm. Whales don't wash up on the ocoast every day and it was well to make the best of it. The hungry january with nothing to look forward to except the bills from christmas was enlivened by it all. They ahd almost even gotten the village idiot on air, a famous feat. But now the show was over and the star was to leave town as soon as the tide allowed. West cork people are curious by nature. So a car parked on a lonely layby outside the village was always going to get some attention. The cars from the city had stopped coming and the locale had alnmost forgotten the carcass nearby so it was slightly off that someone would be parked up there. Out of concern you understand, for god knows what trouble the driver was in John Brian slowed to take a look.....
Portal