Two Brians face Judgment Day despite blind faith in economy

THE Two Brians sat silently in the Dáil, heads down as if in prayer waiting for the fabled apparition: The Blessed Recovery.

Like the hysterical masses who besieged Knock at the weekend, certain that if they stared hard enough at the sun they would catch a glimpse of Our Lady, the dour Dáil duo had nothing to base their hopes on apart from blind faith, desperation and self-delusion.

The Two Brians have been seeing visions for some time, the Taoiseach himself appeared caught-up in rapture just before the local elections when, speaking in tongues, he told anyone who would listen that he had sighted the “green shoots” of The Blessed Recovery.

But only the most true believers of Fianna Fáil believed him, and God – clearly no agnostic politically – smote him for telling fibs as he sent a mighty opposition landslide down on him at the polling booths.

The scale of the almighty punishment spread much fear through the ranks of the already wavering Cowen believers and they began to worship false gods.

Always a keen dabbler in voodoo economics, Brian Lenihan was soon hanging around with dubious cults – particularly the one-man Cult of David McWilliams.

Mr Lenihan temporally became a disciple of McWilliams – the self-proclaimed saviour of the Irish economy – only to feel as betrayed as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane when his idol spoke mockingly of their meeting, regaling tales of the Finance Minister sitting at his feet gorging on raw garlic as the wisdom of random economics was revealed to him.

But there was scant sympathy for Mr Lenihan as many took the view that if a finance minister decides to go cruising down the city back streets late at night looking for a bit of drive-by economic salvation action and ends up on the doorstep of Mr McWilliams shaking his garlic cloves and seeking help, what does he expect?

Mr McWilliams is known to be a tad fond of himself and that meeting was only ever going to remain secret until McWilliams needed another publicity fix.

And so it came to pass: the waves of recession were beginning to part on the horizon, Europe could see its way out of the darkness – but this was a vengeful God and he would not allow the children of Ireland to move back into the sunshine until years after the rest of the continent.

For the children of Ireland had angered God.

Instead of throwing the thieves out of the Temple, Fianna Fáil had not just thrown the developer and banker thieves a 10-year party – they had also sold off the Temple to them at mates rates to be re-zoned into yuppie flats.

God was deeply saddened – the island of saints and scholars had twisted itself into the island of banks run by robbers.

Locusts had already fed off the carcass of the Irish economy, so God damned the proud boastful nation of the tiger with a plague of inadequate politicians instead.

There they were yesterday, the Two Brians – Cowen the elder with the three Marys sitting at his left hand. But the unholy trinity of Harney, Coughlan and Hanafin, might as well have been Huey, Dewy and Louie, for all the inspiration they gave him.

Believers insist Our Lady is due back at Knock at 3pm on December 5; exactly four days later the Two Brians will pronounce the mystery of The Blessed Recovery once more as they unfurl the Budget.

But avenging arch-angel Eamon warned they may not make it to the promised land and let forth a mighty roar that shook the Dáil. Labour leader Mr Gilmore warned that, like God, counter-cyclical economic growth theorem moves in mysterious ways, and a great wave of anger was now rising from the streets as strike rage gripped the masses.

The Taoiseach look tired and fearful as this book of revelations was read to him – he knows Judgment Day is coming.