Dampen the earth with your tears of reverence, and scrub thine eyes with coarse grit: Talley’s in the house.

Did you festering peasants enjoy the long weekend? No, Talley neither. It seemed longer than most, given the ‘hot takes’ coming in thick and fast off the back of that tortuous election. Many have remarked that the farcical contest of would-be King or Queen of Ireland was remarkably similar to the pantomime of an election that transpired in the grounds of Belfield campus just last year. Unfortunately, such an analogy would require us to believe that one Barry Murphy is as soft-spoken as a poet and that he stands as a principled bastion of loving embrace against an otherwise racially charged challenger to the throne. If there is one similarity between Murphy and President Higgins, it’s their remarkable last-minute affinities for second terms. Murphy only wishes his terms lasted seven years.

Truthfully, Talley very much doubts that Murphy even likes dogs (although in this respect it must be said that his lunch meat is of unknown origin and therefore highly suspect). On the subject of Murphy’s poetic tendencies, Talley can confirm that the illustrious President has spent much of his time locked away in his office trying desperately, against all odds, to find something to rhyme with “luxury 6 pin bowling”. Rhyme or no, Talley suspects Murphy’s soundbites are more trick than treat. Still, Talley will grit his teeth and be forever grateful that Gemma O’Doherty is not among the sabbatical team.

Speaking of people retiring into obscurity, Talley wonders what becomes of sabbaticals once they expire? Former Education Officer Robert Sweeney has been spotted roaming the corridors of the Smurfit Graduate School of Business, begging for spare change to fund his commoners’ MSc. And on the subject of commoners, Talley attended the annual graduation dinner for UCD’s noble Ad Astra Scholars this past week. When I emerged three days later from the cocoon of self-indulgent tripe, covered head to toe in fecal matter, I paused to wonder whether they are truly born gifted or if the Academy taught them to fit their entire cranium up there. Of course, we are all very proud of their achievements and Talley wishes them the best of luck in their future endeavours (“don’t forget your roots” chime UCD Alumni, holding a bucket of loose change), however I do wonder whether there are enough notable rugby-playing commerce alumni?

Talley is merely jealous, of course. He only wishes he were celebrated half as much as those graduate scholars who didn’t even bother to collect their personalised pens. To quote the Ad Astra Academy’s mantra: “Follow. The. Money.”