Two weeks ago, I undertook what will probably go down in history as one of the most audacious plans ever attempted in trying to solve the great problem of rural isolation.
Ably assisted by none other than Vladimir Putin himself, our plan was to fly-in 360, single Russian ladies to the west coast of Ireland.
Late on Tuesday evening, or early on Wednesday morning, over western parts of Mayo, Galway, Clare, Kerry and, indeed, as far south as the Beara Peninsula, these Russian beauties were to be parachuted-in. It was a reckless business, for sure, and a cheeky one to boot, as we undertook one last-ditch effort to save rural life as we know it.
And fellows might say, “wouldn’t you be better off concentrating on your farm, instead of thinking about leggy Russian women? Wouldn’t you be better off mending that hole in the boundary ditch? Or doing something about your old wreck of a tractor that needs a slope to start?”
And, indeed, there might be some truth in this. However, the way I saw it, with Valentine’s Day approaching fast, something drastic needed to be done to help the much-maligned, single, rural male.
There are many single Irish males in desperate need of companionship, particularly on these cold nights and, likewise, there are many gorgeous, leggy blond Russian women in need of company, too.
Our daring plan really was a marriage made in heaven.
And as I got reports from Vladimir that he had filled two old Russian bombers to the hilt with beautiful, giddy women and was after taking off from deep within Russian territory, I prayed that his precious cargo would arrive safe and well on Ireland’s green shore.
And all through Tuesday night I prayed, and Vladimir prayed, too, as he drank vodka by the gallon.
If we pulled it off, we would be hailed as the greatest Russian and Irishman of all time.
And can you imagine the delight that would have been there on the faces of single, rural men on that Wednesday morning — when going out to milk the cows they would spot this Russian beauty, like Ursula Andress from the Bond film, Dr No, and she strutting into the yard and she inquiring if he had any interest in making an honest woman of her?
Yerra, there’d be tremendous jubilation, for sure, with weddings and nuptials taking place all over the land.
Cows wouldn’t be milked for weeks, sorting out the problem of over-quota milk there and then.
Rural Ireland would transform from ‘Forty Shades of Green’ to Fifty Shades of Grey in no time.
We live in a beautiful part of the world, but it needs to be kept alive and kicking. The fun needs to be kept in it. Hence, my audacious plan with Vladimir.
But, alas, as you well know by now, the two Russian bombers were spotted by the Brits as they gallantly headed for the Irish coast and, fearing that the bombers were bringing war and not love, Vladimir’s planes were sent scuttling away from Ireland.
But, damn it all, you see it wasn’t Russian bombs that were on board at all, only Russian bombshells. And so, now, with Valentine’s Day falling this very Saturday, there is little that can be done by me to ease the suffering of so many single farmers. The battle continues.