The sheep know a fraud when they see one
Tell me. Have you breathed any air, lately? Got up in the morning? Smiled, any time in the last 6 weeks? Yes? Well, pull up a pew, then, because you need to listen to this.
I don’t want to be the girl who cried wolf, here, because that could possibly ruin my cheap and nasty reputation; but I have just realised something, and it would be remiss of me not to make you all listen to it. (This is an extremely serious matter, so pull your chair a bit closer, there.)
An extremely dangerous virus has reached our shores. And the future of Irish writing is in jeopardy.
A dangerous streak of optimism (Futurus Maximus) has been spotted in certain pockets of the country where it had previously been entirely unknown (mainly Leitrim and Louth; but also any county with a vowel).
Certain…
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