Making our own entertainment

Last night as I got on my bus, after going to my Irish class, and having discussed with a colleague some of the finer points of the language question over a patriotic pint on the eve of the Feast of St Patrick, I found to my pleasure a discarded copy of The Irish Times.

Have you ever tried to piece together a discarded copy of The Irish Times in the elbow-stifling confines of a Dublin Bus seat, with the glow of patriotism fizzing in your veins? Well it's hard, particularly in these days of the various "metro-seized" excrescences that pollute our daily lives, phenomena that have had a degenerating effect on the wrists of an entire generation of Irish newspaper-folders. The staples in the tabloid Irish Independent represent the infantilising effect of the modern world on a once-proud race.

Such thoughts served to steel me against the reluctance of the unruly newspaper as it dodged my grasp, defied my authority and wrestled to assert the power of chaos over civilisation. To begin with it seemed a simple task, a matter of finding the front page and folding it back from the inside to the outside. The wily rag would not be beaten so easily, however. For not only were the individual sections all over the place, they were folded in upon each other and assembled with such a disgusting disrespect for the moral and physical order of the world that they seemed the device of some diabolical agent of Chaos.

I was not put off. I am devoted to the principles of Apollo and messiness of any kind sets my heart to revolt. I improvised a cunning taxonomical method whereby I classified the contents of the newspaper not according to each segments general "feel" but by observing the order of the numerals printed on the top of each page. This effacement of personal taste in submission to a larger guiding principle is the very cornerstone of my artistic philosophy.

I managed then to arrange the business section and the cleverly inverted sports page, the pages dealing with World News, letters and Opinion and Analysis, Home News, Arts, Features and television. Some pages slipped to the floor and had to be retrieved; one had to be held in my mouth as I wrestled the broad pages into submission. More than once the whole thing fell apart and I will admit that more than once I was tempted to give in. Fellow passengers on the 44 bus may this morning count themselves privileged to have witnessed my struggle, physical and spiritual, with the renegade newspaper. It was a test of determination, dexterity and sheer guts to rope, wrestle and beat the paper bare of all its creases. By the time I applied an authoritative hand to smooth the broadsheet against the back of the bus seat, I was already in Dundrum and a little out of breath.

I sat, settled, and perused the dealings of the world, and my labours were rewarded because there was an article about a (sort-of) new play by celebrated English poet and dramatist William Shakespeare and an interesting thing about the current diplomatic crisis between the US and Israel.

Anyway, the point is - is this the way my dog thinks about the frenzied attacks he makes on the little corduroy coat which was a present from one of his admirers? If so he lives a very fulfilling life.