..except the wind swirling and howling through the rubble and pyrite of the ghost estates. The people walking the streets like tired zombies. The pasty faced women with dyed hair and ridiculously scary makeup cackling wildly in the night. Men dressed in suits and capes crumbling under the weight of their own mortgages. Like cryptonite.
The Wicked Witch of the East is overlooking the whole dreary scene in her rose-tinted crystal ball and her winged monkeys are flying in to scare the shit out of everybody. “Bekommen sie meine pretties!”
Is this Halloween? Or just a regular day in modern, post apocalyptic Ireland?
If you ask me the scariest thought this Halloween is the fact that property prices are on the rise again. Seriously, haven’t we learned anything? That’s the biggest fear- history repeating.
Well that or the image of Angela Merkel twerking all up in the Troika’s grill (which I’ve cleverly named “The Twerkel”) while the Irish government sit with their tongues out throwing wads of tax payers’ money at her and the American government videoing the whole thing from the closet.
Well, I think that’s quite enough satire for one day.
(P.s. If anybody knows the proper use of the word twerking please feel free to leave a comment. Is it a phrasel verb i.e do I have to twerk-up or twerk-on or twerk all over? Or can I simply just twerk?)