Treasure these exclusive excerpts from Old MacConnell’s Almanack

Great news altogether for you all, ye have hit the jackpot, at last!

Treasure these exclusive excerpts from Old MacConnell’s Almanack

Great news altogether for you all, ye have hit the jackpot, at last! Take my word for it, this article, in a very short time, will be worth more than your farm and the holding next to it, or your agri-related business, and that is because it carries the very first excerpt from Old MacConnell’s Almanack, exposed to all of you weeks before the events described below actually occur.

At a time when bankrupt RTE is selling off its precious works of art at auctions in London and elsewhere, and raising only a measly few thousand euros in the process, it is the pure truth that a copy of this paper, marking the virgin appearance of my Almanack, is more valuable.

That venerable Old Moore who ruled the shelves across the land for unchallenged generations, with his flimsy green cover, has lost his monopoly. Competition, they say, is the life of trade, and Old Moore has ruled for too long. Time for him to move to the far end of the shelf.

I know in my heart and well-seasoned soul that all the predictions you are about to read here, perhaps with some shock and awe, will certainly come to pass as stated. Ye can check that out further down the road of life.

In the meantime, prudently, keep this paper in a safe place until the time arrives when you might wish to buy something which you have always coveted but couldn’t afford.

A castle in Spain for your retirement? A Caribbean cruise with the entire family, and all the clan? Would like to buy your own helicopter and fly in joyous circles over Killarney any time you wish?

Or would like to invest in a colt that might win the Derby? All the golden doors are open wide, if ye follow my advice.

Like any trader, in any profession, I’m not going to give even you faithful readers absolutely all of the treasure trove of information ye will discover next January, when the printed copies of the Almanack will be flying off the shelves of the bookstores all over the nation and beyond.

There will be much more than the tasty morsels which I’m releasing free here just for you faithful followers. (I have a living to make too, as an old hack!). So I will begin here and now with accurate predictions which will whet your appetites for more.

Firstly, despite all the negatives against him at the moment, long before the actual election in his Disunited Kingdom, the tousled English Prime Minister Boris Johnson will win the December clash at the ballot boxes so clearly that he will not need the kind of support, when his Parliament resumes, heretofore supplied by the DUP above in Ulster, headed by the formidable Arlene Foster.

My next paragraphs come to you exclusively from the future.

They were calling the campaign the Brexit Election around Westminster, but in the end, the ordinary people of the UK were infinitely more swayed in their voting patterns by perceived shortcomings in their national health service, the NHS they call it over there.

Shortcomings, unnecessary delays in services which allegedly caused deaths, especially amongst infants, dislodged Brexit matters from the peak of the political agenda, when the time came to vote.

It was a trolley count election, if you like, rather than a Brexit battle. And as part of the bitter aftermath, the Labour leader Corbyn resigned as his party’s leader. Believe it or not.

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, my occasional West Clare neighbour, Donald Trump from Doonbeg betimes, somehow extricated himself from the impeachment moves against him by the Democrats, and celebrated his success with a big party in his upmarket golf resort in Doonbeg in late January, meanwhile reporting that his Irish project in Doonbeg made a profit this year.

Furthermore, the polls across the USA began to make him a hot favourite to be re-elected next year. Again, believe it or not.

Here at home, despite all those hospital corridors crammed with trolleys, Leo Varadkar, the outgoing Taoiseach, again, remarkably, just like Johnson across the Irish Sea, easily defeated all the odds against him by clearly winning our spring election.

Not alone that, but a politician whose party I’ve never voted for (as a hardline Fianna Failer) emerged as such a clear winner that he will not need to form a coalition government with Fianna Fáil or any other party.

Furthermore, unlike the rest of Europe currently, the Green Party fared very poorly, at a time they would have expected to benefit from climate concerns. That one baffles me totally.

Dramatically, heading back to my Erneside roots in Fermanagh and South Tyrone, Michelle Gildernew of Sinn Fein, who had a wafer-thin winning margin over the Unionists in the last election, had an even thinner wafer winning margin of just 32 votes this December. And had to survive vigorous recounts and checks before the celebrations began. You will read all about it in the post-election analysis just before Christmas but remember where you read it first.

Finally, looking even further down into the bowels of 2020, ye will not be surprised at all to learn before it happens that the Irish soccer side did not manage to squeeze into the European soccer finals through the back door.

Nor by the fact that Rory McIlroy did not win another major title yet, by losing a play-off against an Englishman whose name escapes me now. But maybe some of ye will be surprised more than a little by the fact that Dublin’s GAA footballers lost Sam Maguire at last, to a totally unfancied team of underdogs!

For the full juicy details of these, and many other mighty yarns, you will have to enrich me by buying a copy of Old MacConnell’s Almanack after Christmas. In the meantime enjoy the jingle bells!

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