I’ve just been moved to tears, listening to John McCormack. It wasn’t his recording of Il mio tesoro, with that extraordinary breath control and melifluous pitch. Nor his Killarney.
My uncle Hugh was a trained singer, a tenor, whose wonderful voice embarassed me before I came to admire it. My father, Frank, used to listen to McCormack on the gramaphone. How I used to hate those long lines of melody. Now I could listen to McCormack for hours.
It was another John McCormack that cracked me up today. CEO of Irish Cancer Society being interviewed after leading a deputation to Mary Harney, Minister for Health.
He had been lobbying the government to set up a publicly funded cervical screening service. I was shocked. There is no such service over here. Coming back from UK, I’ve assumed such a basic service existed here in some form.
Imagine, no service inviting women to have a smeer test. No letters following by a phonecall if you don’t turn up. No serious public policy delivering one of medicine’s greatest achievements. Cervical cancer is so preventible. It costs more to treat women after they get it than it would cost to have such a service. Imagine having to lobby for it in this day and age in Ireland.
What has been going on in this country? Don’t people learn anything from UK experience? Don’t women want to live? Don’t men want their mothers & wives to survive? Is an Irish woman’s life not worth it?
Irish women should be ashamed of themselves. How have they tolerated such a disgrace? How have they allowed public policy to be so blind? Do they have a death wish?
Irish men are disgraceful. Do they not value their women as mates, as lovers, as mothers, as human beings? Do they not value all the free ironing? The free cooking, the dusting? The tax relief?
I want to prick the whole fucking lot of them.
All you out there thinking of moving back to Ireland, or moving here for a better quality of life, be sure to factor this in: women’s lives here are cheap. It might have something to do with the fact that they are so easily reproduced. What does it matter that we lose a few hundred here or there; they are only women after all. They are only the ones that tend to live longest, that tend to look after the elderly. All that women’s work, we need to get on with real business, don’t we?
I heard John Mc Cormack rail against the fact that the Irish Cancer Society hadn’t been able to get Mary Harney to commit to a date for the service to begin. Look at the Society’s website. It’s horrific.
All that rubbish about Ireland being a ‘christian’ country, a humane place: it all a smokescreen for illness.
There has been a deep-seated illness at the heart of Ireland. Its symptoms include young women dying needlessly.
I suppose I could not talk like this in polite company. They can ban magic mushrooms overnight (rightly so, I think) but when it comes to serious stuff, impotence abounds. Do they talk about this over dinner at all?
A plague on all their houses. What have I brought my daughter back to?
If you feel I am being ‘unfair’, let me know. Otherwise do something about it.
Che gelida manina, from La Boheme, sung by himself is calming me. Hopefully it won’t dull my ire.