The Minister for Defence was hunched over the heap of solicitors' letters on his desk, occasionally uttering a small sigh, like a leak from the poppet valve of a steam engine, while his first secretary adjusted an imperturbable eyebrow or two. This is terrible," the Minister said finally. "Our Defence budget is now equal to that of the USA."
"And that is before you count this letter here," said his first secretary.
"What? There's more?" cried Michael Smith (for 'twas he).
"There is indeed, Minister. This is from the most distinguished law firm of Ppinch, Ppilfer, and Philtch, who represented the soldier from Meath who slept in his roof-space at home to get over his sunburn and banged his head. He sued the Department. You remember that, surely?"
"The post Trim-attic shock syndrome? Cost us half-a-million, didn't it?"
"Rather more Minister. Their latest action results from the day trip to Bray by the mothers-in-law of A platoon."
"The mothers-in-law of A platoon?" cried the Minister, his collar exploding.
"They were accompanying Ermyntrude Haddock on her first day out of Holles Street with her newly-born child Wayne to take the sea air. They do say that the sea air is very bracing in Bray."
Sapphic inclinations
"So it is - but how are we involved? Is Ermyntrude's husband a member of A platoon?"
"No, Minister. Ermyntrude is not married. She is a lady of Sapphic inclinations."
The Minister sat in silence for a while. "You mean she likes jewels?"
"Possibly, Minister, possibly. No doubt she is not averse to blue gemstones. I was not referring to that but to her pelvic appetites. Ermyntrude Haddock is a lesbian."
An even longer silence followed while the Minister toyed with a puzzled lock of hair on his head, before he murmured, "I could just have been a schoolteacher."
"Quite, Minister. Let me explain. Ermyntrude Haddock is a member of a lesbian collective in Donamede. She and her partner, M'dwana Lumumba, a Ghanaian lady, wanted a child, and Ermyntrude was fertilised by means of a sperm bank."
"What happened to it?" whispered the Minister to nobody in particular. "What happened to Dev's Ireland?" He wrapped a few hairs around his finger.
Muddy field "Sperm banks. Ghanaian lesbians. Ppests like Ppinch, Ppillfer and Philtch. Ministers for Defence under Dev inspected the FCA on a muddy field in Roscommon on wet Sunday afternoons before Benediction. Bliss."
"Quite, Minister. Ms Haddock was in Holles Street where she was being visited by Mr Lumumba."
"Hold on! Mr Lumumba? Ms, surely - these are sappers, surely?"
"Sapphists, Minister, and Mr Lumumba, as befits the honorific father, has taken the male honorific, though he - his pronoun of preference - remains a member of the female sex. Alas, Mr Lumumba, while visiting Ms Haddock, met and formed an attachment to a Mrs Mawhinnie who was herself visiting her daughter, who is married to a soldier in A platoon."
"An attachment? You mean one of these saffron thingummies?"
"Precisely Minister. Mrs Mawhinnie reciprocated the passion, even joining the Donamede Lesbian Collective, in turn inducing her friends, all mothers of young women married to members of A platoon, to join. It is, Minister, a lamentable reflection upon the ardour and the amatory skills of the modern male that the mothers-in-law of A platoon preferred what they got in Donamede to what they were getting at home."
The Minister looked dumbly at his desk. "Somewhere inside this tale is a day trip to Bray, is there not?" he croaked finally. "And Ppinch, Ppilfer and Philtch, yes?"
"There is indeed, Minister. Rejoicing at the birth of young Wayne Haddock, a strapping young girl of 11 pounds, the collective went for a day trip to Bray, with a view to the dodgems."
"The dodgems? So where does the Department come in?"
"On the dodgems, Mr Lumumba's vehicle was hit by another dodgem, and he suffered severe shock. The other mothers who saw this were deeply traumatised and required extensive hospitalisation and prolonged counselling."
"Ah. Now I understand. And the errant dodgem, that was driven by a member of the Defence Forces?"
"No Minister. That was driven by an enraged Ms Haddock who resented the relationship between Mr Lumumba and Mrs Mawhinnie."
The Minister sobbed. "I used to dream about getting this job when I was a gossoon in Tipp. Me taking the salute on O'Connell Street as our brave lads marched off to death or glory in the Congo.
"Please, please," he whimpered, "how can they possibly be suing us?"
Nissen hut
"It is the contention of Ppinch, Ppilfer and Philtch that had not Mrs Mawhinnie's daughter been recklessly and irresponsibly impregnated by her husband, a member of A Platoon, behind a Nissen hut on the Curragh, none of this would have happened. The Army is therefore responsible. And our advice is that we should settle."
"What are we giving them?"
"Connacht, Minister."
"Connacht? Somebody's head will roll over this! It must! But whose?"
"Guess, Minister."