Poster boys and girls for a new Ireland

It was because of how the April winds were blowing yesterday that I was able to eavesdrop on the intriguing conversation between the two, seasoned old election posters shivering on a local telegraph pole.

They were not happy at all, and that’s the pure truth.

They were together on the pole, at about eyebrow level. They were united in their criticism of the babble of political infighting they could hear, coming from the raft of new, young-candidate posters, away above them, almost all the way up to the wires. Most of those were imprinted with unfamiliar, youthful countenances of both sexes, and most bore the legend ‘Independent’.