The Kerry man, the Wexford woman and the freckle-faced Leitrim student emerged from their hiding place in the bushes beside the duck pond, scuttled along by the statues to Robert Emmet and Ireland’s other gender fluid martyrs, slid stealthily past the Royal College of Surgeons that had seen such awful carnage during Ireland’s 1916 Rebellion for transgender rights and stopped ten yards short of Traitors’ Gate.
They cracked opened their six cans of blood red paint and set to work. Soon, the legs of the giant statue were dripping the crimson red of the Fields of Flanders as well as the killing fields of Kerry, Wexford and Leitrim our three buckos were more concerned with. Mission accomplished, they retraced their rat run, they jumped the railings at Harcourt Street and they were gone.
The following morning, 22nd November 2018, the 55th anniversary of JFK’s assassination, all hell broke loose. Dublin’s legions of West Brits phoned Ireland’s legions of West Brit TDs, senators and journalists demanding action against “the evil men” who “perpetrated this cowardly act”; as always with these plastic feminists, the women of Wexford did not exist. Sinn Féin thundered that Ulster’s Peace Process, which they had been profitably milking for over 20 years, was “at the precipice of an enormous crossroads”. Ireland’s Gay Government whined that the “Islamophobic and homophobic” attack was undermining Ireland’s multi-cultural fabric, that “humanity has been crossed” and that “we are on the precipice of the abyss”. Most sane Catholics knew that Armageddon was not upon us and genuinely asked what was bugging Sinn Féin’s dildo sucking brigade this time.
Briefly, Britain’s intelligence services had aided a young Dublin woman with shady family ties to the British Army ship a giant statue of a British Army Black and Tan terrorist to Ireland and have it provocatively plonked down inside Traitors’ Gate at the top of Dublin’s fashionable Grafton Street. Although this modern Trojan Horse was obviously gawked at, just as the good citizens of Troy had, in their time, gawked at their own troop-carrying present from the Greeks, those Irish people who still had functioning brains knew there would be consequences at this further calculated insult to all that is holy and decent.
Not only do the Black and Tans remain bywords in butchery to this very day but all British regiments had similarly disgraced themselves in Ireland over the years. During the so-called 1914-18 Great War, well over 4% of all enlisted British soldiers were hospitalised for contracting the so-called French Pox and they and their millions of pox hardened comrades who had not been hospitalised had liberally spread it, and entire divisions of their pox ridden bastards, the length and breadth of holy Ireland. During the Tan War, the whores of Ireland inflicted more damage on the Tans than did the IRA: as over 500 Tans contracted the French Pox and more than a thousand more of these deranged wretches got scabies, we can truthfully say the boys who beat the Black and Tans were the rent boys of the Dublin whore houses. Although the Good Old Irish Republican Army (IRA) leader Tom Barry wrote about the female “unfortunates” of Bandon who fraternised with the British Tommies his men killed, Traitors Gate had no giant statues to these Wrens of the Curragh, those degraded Irish women, who lived like feral animals sucking off the Tans in the bushes surrounding the Curragh military base, as well as similar hedge rows in Cobh, Roscommon and Athlone; nor did it have altars to the unfortunates of Strumpets’ City, Dublin’s legions of whores who the Tans spit roasted as they and their collaborators made Ireland’s capital city the Empire’s biggest brothel.
Traitors’ Gate itself was so named to commemorate the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, a largely Dublin based gang of cut throat British mercenaries who had committed litanies of war crimes during the Second Boer War, when, despite the massive protests in Dublin against them, the Dublin Fusiliers starved to death 25% of all South Africa’s Boer women and children in concentration camps, a means of genocide they invented during the Boer Holocaust. The Boer War, as we shall see, remains pivotal in unraveling the imperialist myths and home grown blarney that stop us not only understanding Irish history and modern Irish society but also making anything of ourselves as a nation.
Traitors’ Gate is in St Stephen’s Green and fronts onto the College of Surgeons, which was occupied in 1916 by the Irish Citizen Army, whose leader, James Connolly, earlier helped lead the massive protests against the Boer War that began the road to the 1916 Transgender Rising. Not that Traitors’ Gate was ever a hotbed of Republican subversion. Far from it. The nearby public toilets and public houses had been prime cruising spots for Fine Gael and other “Just Society” politicians before it became hip for Irish politicians to openly perform fellatio on one another. Ivana von Bacik, a far right Trinity College politician whose family fled Czechoslovakia after the collapse of Hitler’s Wehrmacht, had planted a tree there to honour the White Helmets, an MI6 funded terror gang implicated in the organ harvesting of Syrian children and other war crimes more typical of the Dublin Fusiliers than a civilised society.
Traitors’ Gate sits at the top end of Grafton Street, where the Cairo and Igoe gangs, British murder gangs as notorious in 1920 as the Glenanne, Hutch and Kinahane gangs are in our own time, were based and Trinity College, which was the HQ of the British Army during the 1916 Rebellion for Transgender Rights, is at its bottom end. Because this area was and is more British than Colchester or any other English garrison town, one can begin to understand their crass yearnings to impose the giant Black and Tan statue on Dublin’s unfortunates, even if the three “vandals” wanted none of it.
Though one can empathise with these droppings of Empire, one is stretched to understand or appreciate the sheer extent of their zealotry. The Joe Duffy show, Ireland’s most popular radio show, was inundated with the turds of Empire phoning in to express their disgust at Wexford, Kerry and Leitrim folk refusing to perform fellatio on their brass-balled god. Fine Gael politicians phoned in from their urinals saying not only would they and their Special Branch minders converge in force at Traitors’ Gate to honour the Black and Tans and all other demobbed murderers but that their National Army would be there, and there in force, to honour the Black and Tans as well.
Thus was the natural order of things preserved. Ireland’s national army lowered their flag at Traitors’ Gate to salute the Black and Tans and the other Tommies who spread the French Pox from Derry and Donegal in the north of Ireland to Cork and Kerry in the South, to Roscommon and Mayo in the West of Ireland, to Athlone, Kildare and Mullingar in the Midlands and Strumpet City itself in the East. This was all so reminiscent of 100 years earlier when the Black and Tans marched in step out of Dublin Castle and their agent, “General” Richard Mulcahy, raised the tricolour, after first deliberately trailing it on the ground, an insult that normally warrants a court martial, if not a firing squad. Just as Britain’s General Macready laughed at scruff bag Mulcahy then, so also were Britain’s generals still laughing at the apes who ran John Bull’s Other Island. Who could, in truth, blame them?