That Irish border
HAS a definitive fault line revealed itself in the Brexit process? How do they square the circle of the Northern Irish border with the Republic of Ireland?
This is a "soft" border with no controls. People live one side of the border and work on the other. Farming operations straddle the border. Hundreds of trucks carrying trade goods cross the border, to and fro, every day.
The Republic of Ireland insists that border should remain soft. But that is incompatible with Brexit. The EU suggests a border in the Irish sea. But that would detach Northern Ireland from the UK, make it part of the EU and virtually part of the Republic. The Brits throw up their hands in horror.
Now Donald Tusk, president of the European Council, says there will be no Brexit withdrawal deal and no transition until the Irish border issue is resolved.
The brexiteers say there is a solution but they don't tell us what it is.
It takes us back to Spike Milligan's Puckoon, set in 1924 when "the clock in the church tower said 4.32, as it had done for three hundred years. It was right once a day and that was better than no clock at all."
The Ulster Boundary Commission was tasked with creating the new official division between Northern Ireland and the Irish Free State. Through incompetence, dereliction of duty and sheer perversity, the border ends up running through the middle of the small town of Puckoon.
Houses are divided from outhouses, husbands separated from wives, bars are cut off from their patrons, churches sundered from graveyards ….
The brexiteers should really have done their homework and read Milligan. Apart from the confusion, there is the danger of re-igniting sectarianism.
ital
Two little men with the arse out of their trousers were holding a mass meeting. They had both known better days but not partaken in them. They were forced to admit that the glorious days of the IRA were in decline.
"Comrades," said Shamus Ford, addressing his partner from a chair, "I have good tidings. This new customs post at Puckoon is a boon and a blessing to man. I have a plan, such a plan as Brian Boru would be glad to be associated in …"
Ends ital
Is this not a foretaste? Milligan also captures the breakdown in common civility and good manners in the tensions over a border. Consider this scene at the Holy Drunkard pub.
ital
"Hello, Hi-lee, Ho-la, Hep-la," he shouted through the letterbox.
Upstairs a window flew up like a gun port and a pig-of-a-face stuck itself out.
"What do you want, Milligan?" said the pig-of-a-face. Milligan doffed his cap.
"Ah, Missis O'Toole, you're looking more lovely dan ever. Is there any chance of a cool libation for a tirsty traveller?"
"Piss off!" said the lovely Mrs O'Toole.
Ends ital
And there you have it in a nutshell – social breakdown and hostility caused by the Irish border issue. Few credited Spike Milligan with such insight and foresight when he wrote Puckoon.
Pep talk
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height …
Yes, Shakespeare knew how to do a rugby pep talk. Boy, do we need it tomorrow against the Stormers, wipe out memory of last week's debacle. Tomorrow is a test of the Sharks'character as much as skills.
Meanwhile, a damsel from Zinkwazi, on the North Coast, urges me – through her bridge partner - to desist from sport in this column. My reply is that she should join the gals of the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties and supply knicker elastic for the fashioning of catapults in the event of victory, for the trasditional celebratory feu de joie in which the street lights are shot out.
She will discover that rugby is part of the fabric of our culture, a source of never-ending joy. Her life will be transformed.
Tailpiece
A TRAFFIC cop pulls level with a car that is speeding on the motorway. He's astounded to see that the woman at the wheel is knitting.
He cranks down his window and shouts: "Pull over!"
"No," she shouts back. "Scarf!"
Last word
I do not have a psychiatrist and I do not want one, for the simple reason that if he listened to me long enough, he might become disturbed.
James Thurber
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