It’s me, Leo. It’s happened again. It’s like no matter what I do I just can’t keep people happy. That Ruth Coppinger one said that I had “more positions on abortion than coloured socks.” How rude! Why did she have to come for my socks like that? I’ll have her know that I have a different pair of coloured socks for every day of the week. Matthew bought me a pair in a different colour for every day of the week. You remember Matthew, diary? I don’t get to talk about him a lot because “marriage in our Constitution is very clear that it’s man marrying a woman,” which is why he’s my….boyf partner? Anyway, this Ruth one was so rude to me. I was just trying to go with the flow and organise a referendum so everyone could get a day-off from school, and she totally brought up what I was like as Minister for Health. Apparently diary, when I was the Health Minister, there was like what, “12 people leaving the country DAILY for abortions,” according to Ruth, trying to steal my spotlight. She totally put me on the spot like that. If I said I “pro-choice,” the opposition would have my head, and if I said I was “pro-life” the party members could call for a “no-confidence vote.” So diary, I did what any leader would do. I shifted the responsibility to someone else. I was like, “I would like to see how the Oireachtas committee deal with the issue to develop a consensus, around the wording.” See? Genius. I bought myself time to distract everyone with another scandal, before I actually have to make a definitive decision. Very Taoiseach-like. Bertie would be proud.
Anyway diary, I gotta go. Matthew and I are going to watch the Post. We’re going to laugh at all those silly journalists.
That Irish Times is all full of troublemakers. All I ever see is “Strike for this” and “Repeal that,” like can people just you know, keep their opinions to themselves? Now everyone with an internet connection can see what TDs are voting. Well except Mayo, their internet connection speeds are terrible (hehe). What’s wrong with keeping things the way they were? The country was doing fine. Everything was fine. I mean, yes, I did have a peak to see what way people were voting, so I didn’t commit career suicide, but like ugh, whatever. I finally came out (get it?) in favour of liberalising Ireland’s abortion laws. So now I have to go and campaign for God knows how long. And honestly diary, what is the point? I don’t really care because this really doesn’t affect me in any way, so like, why bother? I’m still waiting for the team to get back to me on whether or not students will vote me in if this doesn’t pass, you know what those young ones are like when they get involved in politics?
That’s all from me today, Diary. I have to get up early and negotiate with the EU big wigs about the Brexit hissy fit.
So like can I just be really honest with you for a second? My life is not all that easy. Here I am trying to have it all: friends, a career, a loving husb- partner, and all I get is abuse. So, remember when I said I was going to Brussels to talk about the future of the EU? Well, that went to hell! This guy, Sammy Wilson, who is this spokesperson of the DUP (*psshh* the DUP), called me a “nutcase.” It’s like, why is everyone bullying me?! Oh, and before I forget, he said my approach for Ireland’s involvement in the EU, was going to “eventually destroy Ireland.” Like the DUP, are saying I’m going to destroy Ireland. THE DUP said that!
Like is Arlene doing a U-turn to the days of Paisley? I don’t know, Diary, but I don’t appreciate it. Anyway, I sent Coveney to go re-build that bridge, get him to stretch his legs. He builds relations and I get the credit! Win-Win…for me. I really need this one, after that faux pas with the house-buyers comment. When I was growing up, I just asked mommy and daddy for whatever and they gave it to me. Like, we were fine, but we weren’t like Trump loaded, that’s just ridiculous. I don’t think the Irish realise how lucky they have it, with a down-to-Earth centrist man of the people like me. It’s hard being a Taoiseach when everyone takes you for a Taoishmuck.
I have to go, Diary. Matthew and I are having our annual date-night. This year it’s in McDonald’s on Grafton Street, with high collar coats and sunglasses.
[space size=10] Leo out.