My Week: Michael O'Leary*
*As imagined by Eilis O'Hanlon
Published 24/04/2016 | 02:30
Sunday: Day of rest? Don't make me laugh. The phone's been ringing all day with journalists wanting me to comment on my announcement that I'll quit Ireland if Sinn Fein gets into power and raise taxes on the rich.
Not that I am rich. I don't get paid nearly enough, considering I've done for Ryanair what Alex Ferguson did for Manchester United. As opposed, say, to what Louis Van Gaal has done for them, which is basically the same as what politicians always do to a country when they get the crazy idea that they know how to run things.
What's the big deal? All I did was make some perfectly reasonable remarks about how Irish voters should stop electing "lunatics". Since when were lunatics a protected species?
I'm not fooled. It's obvious what reporters are after. They know I give a good quote. They're just hoping I say something controversial so they can get a story out of it. Basically, they want me to do their jobs for them. Most of them are so useless they should work for Aer Lingus.
I once compared myself to Jesus, as a prophet without honour in his own country. I've still seen nothing to change my mind.
Every week at this time we have a management meeting in Ryanair at which we look at what other airlines are doing and then laugh at how they're getting it wrong. If we had a meeting to discuss what they're getting right, it would be over quicker than Cheryl Cole's last marriage.
They should draft me in to chair talks between Fine Gael and Fianna Fail. There'd be a government by lunchtime. And by tea, I'd have Aer Lingus in the bag.
I check Twitter to see what people are saying about me. Twatter, more like. It's full of nutters angry at me for pointing out that if you elect monkeys then the peanuts soon run out and they have to start coming after those of us who've worked hard to put by a few extra packets of dry roasted cashews.
I'd have buggered off from this place years ago if it wasn't for the fact that the entire world is full of the same idiots. Let's face it, where am I gonna go? France? I'd rather shoot myself. Though there's a long queue of begrudgers who'd be willing to do it first.
In Britain, I'm asked again for my views on the upcoming referendum on leaving the European Union. Finally, some proper respect. I give it to them straight, saying: Brexit, my arse. The UK would be far worse off outside the EU, even though I've been sounding off about useless bureaucrats in Brussels for years and would probably have told them to sod off long ago if I was in charge of interfering in things that are none of their business.
Most of those messers have never had a real job in their lives. They're almost as bad as those independent TDs promising to support the Government in return for having an international space station or whatever built in their own constituencies.
It's not my fault I can't help telling the truth. My entire philosophy is summed up in the words: "I don't give a shit if no one likes me." You may have spotted that.
News reports say Conor McGregor is retiring from UFC. I didn't even know he had a job serving fried chicken. Retiring is for weaklings. So is compromise. As 48 hours of talks begin on settling the Luas dispute, I send negotiators a suggestion: Just sack the lot of them, and I'll drive the trams myself. You don't get anywhere by giving in to trade unionists.
Literally nowhere. We had to cancel 200 flights because of the terrorist attack in Brussels, but French air traffic controllers grounded 500 of our planes during a recent strike. So you tell me who's the biggest threat. I'm just glad they didn't set fire to our planes, like the French farmers did to those truckloads of sheep. I like a roast dinner as much as the next Irishman, but that's going too far. You should be kind to dumb animals. Apart from the ones in the Green Party, obviously.
Those chancers in the Dail fail to elect a Taoiseach again. That's the difference between politics and business. In business, you just get things done. In politics, you sit around on your arse all day talking.
I could do Enda's job with my eyes shut. I didn't call my race horse Rule The World for nothing. That won the Grand National this year. I heard Aer Lingus had a horse in the race too, but it's still at the starting gate, demanding more government subsidies before agreeing to jump any fences.
It's Earth Day. Jesus O'Leary! What's the point of saving trees? Twigs don't boost the economy like Ryanair does. Polar bears don't employ thousands of people. I'm reminded of the time I said that "the best thing you can do with environmentalists is shoot them." Admit it, it's tempting.
Far from cutting back on oil, we should be pumping it all out of the ground so that I can open more routes. Ideally, I want Ryanair to make so much money that we actually pay passengers to fly. See, I'm just misunderstood. I'm a big softie really. Don't tell SF, though, or they'll start thinking they can squeeze even more money out of me when they get into power. Just try it, suckers.
*As imagined by Eilis O'Hanlon