What people simply cannot understand is that fat cat bankers and developers continue to live in the lap of luxury while ordinary people are struggling to make ends meet, while their children go to school in ever-bigger classes, and while their parents wait on trolleys for life-saving treatment.
The time has come for the day of reckoning. - Joan Burton 2/10/10
If the ECB decide, for example, that bondholders can never be touched, then we have to get a quid pro quo in terms of the structures that the ECB lay out for us. - Joan Burton 1/4/11 (After her Labour party had agreed to support another €26 billion being pumped into the bank bail out)
Once upon a time, a young finance spokeswoman was sitting on the opposition benches in Dail Eireann, bravely promising that her Labour party would never do to the Irish people what the vile Fianna Fail/ Green coalition had. Labour would not cut child benefit. Labour would not sit idly by while unemployment continued to grow. Labour would not put anymore money into the crazy bank bail out.
Joans mind was troubled with boredom. The Greens were giving one of their tedious monologues on their achievements in government. She began to drift off to that familiar day dream land of social democracy utopia where Eamon Gilmore never wore pants, when suddenly her eye caught sight of witty, slightly bitter Rabbit. The Pat Rabbitt.
The Pat Rabbit raced down a hole in the wall, and Joan followed, her heart beating with excitement. Suddenly she began to fall. She hit the bottom with a thump that even Michael D would have heard without his hearing aid. Where was she? A curious hall. There was a table. And upon it was a bottle that said drink me. As she held it to her mouth, the label peeled off revealing another label. It read, TOXIC COALITION - Warning; such a coalition can be hazzardous to your career, ego and sense of decency. Joan had a hure of a thirst on her so she let it off in one go. Than there was blackness.
She awoke to find a strange caterpiller sitting atop of a mushroom, smoking a hookah, glaring earerly at her. "Who are you?", young Joan asked. "I am Ming baby", the good natured, but off his tits caterpiller replied, "Want some if this? Its good shit." Joan ran from the pot smoking independent insect and promised she would never again set eyes upon him unless Labour needed a couple of Indos next time round.
Joan ran through the mysterious forest before reaching a clearing. There she found a dining table, fully laid out for afternoon tea. Sitting at the table was the finance minister, Madhatter Noonan, and the march hare, better known as Michael Lowry. Noonan was condemning the corruption of Fianna Failers, while turning a blind eye to Lowry, who was busy counting bank notes in a big bag marked bribes. Joan found the behaviour of the two individuals to be extremely confusing. When Noonan implies that the cabinet table is no place for women, Joan leaves insulted.
Joan finds herself in the Queen of Hearts garden. The Queen of Hearts, Enda Kenny is screaming at the King, Eamon Gilmore. Hes furious that King Gilmore has made crazed promises about not cutting benefits or paying off toxic bank debts. "Off with his head", Queen Enda screams, "Off with all their heads!!" Joan is suddenly surrounded by blueshirts armed with axes. A chorus of "Off with their heads" fills the air. Joan passes out.
She wakes in her office, and wipes the sweat from her brow. "All a dream," she utters, and signs the form on her desk authorising the cutting of child benefit.
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