Ian O'Doherty: He hasn't gone away, you know
My, someone's feeling touchy, aren't they? Gerry Adams is, in many ways, the personification of Sinn Féin – he manages to combine a mix of sanctimonious piety, a constant sense of persecution and an absolute refusal to tell the truth.
Indeed, I have met numerous Shinners who are convinced that Adams is simply the victim of the media conspiracy cooked up by papers both here and in Britain.
But now it looks like those pesky Yanks might be part of the grand plot to discredit Adams.
Sinn Féin are writing to CNN to complain about an item they ran on the riots in Belfast (honestly, the North is on fire and the economy is in the tank. Bring back Miami Vice and we will officially be the 1980s all over again).
The news network referred to Adams as "a former IRA commander" and he ain't happy.
After all, everyone knows that during the so called 'Troubles' Adams was busy running a rescue shelter for little bunny rabbits and spent his spare time helping little old ladies across the street . . .
Although why he made the infamous statement about the IRA not going away remains a mystery.
I mean, how would he know?
Really? Are you serious?
I must admit, I'm baffled at the whole Lance Armstrong (right) kerfuffle.
And the reason?
Well, people were saying for years that Armstrong was doing more drugs than the Rolling Stones and anyone who had any common sense could see that when a story is too good to be true . . . that's because it is not true.
And the way he went after those who tried to expose him means his demise will bring a lot of joy to an awful lot of people whose lives he deliberately and calculatedly ruined.
This wasn't your common or garden drug cheat, this guy was a bloody monster.
But I noticed that he is apparently considering appearing before a Federal commission to blow the whistle on other dopers.
Wow – from the biggest drug cheat in the history of sport to a fink giving up his former mates.
What a great guy.
Lock him up and throw away the key
The current spate of burglaries in rural areas is fast becoming an epidemic.
On this issue, there is a very real fear across the country. Don't get me wrong, we're getting burgled in cities as well, but for elderly people living alone in an isolated area, being robbed and possibly killed is a very real fear.
So I was interested to see Galway councillor Pádraig Conneely's comments on the rights of home owners.
Conneely has come under fire – as it were – for claiming that sooner or later someone is going to shoot a burglar and added: "One body laid out on a slab after a robbery would put an end to robberies in the area pretty lively."
He has been accused by the usual do-gooders of encouraging people to take the law into their own hands but this begs the obvious question – if they close down all the rural Garda stations, then whose hands is the law meant to be in?
Frankly, I'm surprised someone hasn't reported him to the police for incitement to hatred against burglars.
Well that didn't work . . .
When I was kid, Yes, Minister and then Yes, Prime Minister were unmissable in the O'Doherty household.
In fact, those shows were probably the first 'serious' comedies I watched after I had (slightly) grown out of The Young Ones.
So I tuned into the new version on Gold the other night with a degree of trepidation. After all, you hate to see something you loved being tarnished.
And tarnished it was.
Terrible script, appalling and intrusive laugh track – I know when something is funny, I don't need canned laughter to tell me – and the over acting and telegraphing of gags from the cast made the whole thing look like an amateur drama society's homage to the original.
Honestly, this was the most disappointing return to one of the landmark TV shows of my youth since last year's truly appalling Five Go To Rehab.
Ah, hope springs eternal
We may not have much going for us as a country at the moment.
But things could be worse.
For instance, I had an almost pathological fear of being snowed in for Christmas and we ended up having what could only be described as a perfectly mild winter.
I mean, just look at the kicking Britain is getting at the moment and you can see that we have been lucky.
And as I was discussing this with a neighbour yesterday, she agreed and added that: "Sure you can even see a stretch in the evening. It'll be spring before we know it."
Now, I haven't noticed any discernible stretch in the evenings myself, but Goddammit, I like that woman's spirit and I'll be keeping my eye out for a bit of a stretch.
I suggest you do the same.