Stranger than fiction

There are times when I worry about the lands where I live.

A few weeks back I read that 3,000 protestors were due to descend on to the Hill of Tara. Yes, you read that right. They were going to descend on to a hill. I only hope that they used parachutes, and that somebody took pictures.

And then today, I was listening to the news with half an ear when I heard that the national airline would be suspending four pilots because of a dispute. It wasn't clear whether they were to be suspended from one plane or four, though I think one would be best. Yes, you can picture it, can't you, a sleek Aer Lingus airbus gliding over Belfast, with two pilots dangling from each wing. That'd teach them.

I was drowsing off when I heard of some fierce gloomy news on the Irish wildlife front. It seems that dirty, disease-carrying foreign squirrels are not just destroying the landscape but are well on the way to wiping out our native reds. Such, at any rate, have been the findings, they said, of a nationwide survey of red squirrels. Now tell me, how in the name of all that's holy, does one survey a squirrel?

I mean, it's hard enough trying to corner a shopper when armed only with a clipboard.

I suspect nut bribery is involved.

You know, chuck your average panicked red a nut and you'll surely get her attention, and then, while she nibbles warily, occasionally freezing and looking around as she wonders if she's left the gas on, you can ask her how she feels about all these immigrants ruining the place. West of the Shannon now, don't you know?

Not in my day, I tell you.