The event was largely uneventful apart from the fact that the seating was certainly not designed for comfort, indeed the only people who looked like the seats were designed for were the curious collection of Japanese tourists who were sitting adjacent to me. With my quiet Burnaby reserve, I refrained from engaging them in conversation, nevertheless I felt a certain amount of sympathy for them having been conned into the belief that Eire is a hospitable and indeed inhabitable place to visit.

The train eventually arrived into Westland Row behind schedule; the natives like to refer to it as “Pearse Street” (after that squint eyed treacherous wretch) but then they never had any taste to begin with. Arriving in Westland Row, I soon joined the throng of the morning rush hour, immersed within the cattle crush as the endless stream of Irish Public Servants, kitted out in their regulation fat suits and runners pretended they were off to work (all of whom were late, but no one seemed to care)

As I exited the station, I avoided entering Trinity College – a place that was once ours but is now inhabited by Po-faced wannabes, country bumpkins and Northsiders. Instead and owing to the rain, I chose to take a native rickshaw; something which I haven’t done since the days of the Raj. The sahib who drove this motorized rickshaw, showed all the stereotypical ethnic traits: he was nosy, opinionated, avaricious, and smelly. I had hoped to have a quiet and peaceful trip up to St Stephen’s Green, but owing to the rain – the traffic had come to a standstill and consequently I became a prisoner to the ranting and raving of the rickshaw driver as he fulminated against the latest mishaps of the native chiefs. The rickshaw made its way slowly towards the once glorious Merrion Square and we passed what was once the Duke of Leinster’s fine Georgian town house, which the natives have through their parliament have turned into a glorified tenement. As we passed the back entrance, the rickshaw driver opened the window and gave the ‘Harvey Smith’ and a then muttered something that sounded like ‘dem fhuggers and dare namah.’ I’m not entirely sure what he meant, but it certainly wasn’t polite! After an interminable wait and a circumnavigation of the back streets – the rickshaw arrived at St Stephen’s Green. It was then the greatest shock set in, the rickshaw driver demanded €34!!! At first I thought he was having me on as is the stock and trade of the natives; but sadly no – this vagabond was deadly serious. Now I had heard stories of native greed and corruption- but discounted this as myth; but here I was facing down the ugly face of venality. I remonstrated with the blighter and eventually haggled him down to €20 which I may add was still highway robbery.

The post box at the junction of Sommerby and Portland Road was mysteriously vandalised in the early hours of Monday morning by a radical chav element believed to based in the occupied territories. The Edward VII Pillar Box was commissioned in 1907 and has proudly stood at the junction ever since. However in the early hours of Monday morning, the pillar box was painted green by the invading chavs to resemble the boxes on the other side of the border.

Residents of Portland Road are not amused by this latest act of wanton vandalism by a group known to the authorities as the Chavist Revolutionary Active Committee or C.R.A.P. The authorities will later today request the extradition of a group of Chavists from the occupied territories in line with further investigations of known Chav activities in and around the Burnaby in recent months.

VANDALISED BY NATIVE CHAVS

See footage on BBC iPlayer

Now of course it would be easy to blame their indolent beer swigging parents (more about them later) but in truth the main culprits for their odious lifestyle can be attributed to those horrible marxists who pass themselves off as teachers! It would appear that in the native’s country (Eire) they are very highly paid (precisely what for, we’re not entirely sure) and they have an enormous sense of entitlement. They should be all rounded up on a Monday morning (provided they’re not pulling a sicky) and given a bloody good flogging. That will teach them!

As you know in our wonderful dominion (the Burnaby) we have a cracking grammar school Burnaby Grammar (for those of you who cannot send your boys to Eton) and the level of educational attainment extraordinarily high; allowing many of our young folk to join the foreign office and the BBC (Burnaby Broadcasting Corporatopm). Unfortunately the same cannot be said for Killincarrig Comprehensive (that monstrosity created by the former governor general to appease the artisans who managed to be included in the dominion when the boundary commission concluded its work in 1925 (that place should have been assigned to the natives)

At Burnaby Grammar our young folk receive a thoroughly good grounding in the classics, mathematics, sciences, humanities, poetry and rhetoric. The teachers have a high rate of attendance, and actively participate in extra curricula activities without requesting ‘overtime’ like those dreaded marxists in the native schools. Thankfully we have not gone down the route of creating lay boards of management, avoiding the mistake of allowing ‘nosey parkers’, ‘Gaelgoirs’ and ‘swingers’ participate in school management. No, we are not for turning! our schools are better run by the very people who are best equipped to provide education.

Yesterday evening the BBC ran an interesting report on the protest march organised by the natives in Dublin last Tuesday. As is typical of their sort, they commenced their march on Rutland Square (the natives call it Parnell Square after that rabble rousing wife grabbing degenerate) before marching down Sackville Street (known to the natives as O’Connell Street after that over sized leg sniffing Kerry boozer of the same name) before making their way across the river to Kildare Street where the natives keep their parliament in the once lovely Leinster House – which has become in their possession a den of thieves, liars and crooks.

Of course, these protesters (malcontents) no doubt took the day of work to hold this march (they wouldn’t do it on a weekend – would they?) because the native government wants to cut their excessive pay rates by 6%. If we were still in charge of that unfortunate country, we would insist at the very least on 26% to reflect the number of uncertified sick leave they take…… blighters.

Broadcast from BBC Burnaby

It would appear that they placed too much faith in professional chancers, and their native representatives who we always said were crooks! Anyway not to go into too much detail, but those scoundrels managed to persuade the natives that their property was more valuable than the equivalent in Mayfair! Not surprisingly  the natives went on a mad spending spree which extended beyond their own borders and some of them had the gall to try and take up residence  in the Burnaby as tax exiles (blighters!)

Now I know some of you are perhaps enjoying a bit of schadenfreude at the collapse of the native economy – afterall we did warn them in an editorial from this newspaper back in 2003, and of course they did not listen. But schadenfreude aside, we have received a request for assistance to bail them out; a request that was made formally to the Governor of the Burnaby, Major Sir Ernest Forbes Hamilton, KBE CMG DSO at a meeting following our remembrance day service at the Cenotaph yesterday.

The full details of the assistance sought remains somewhat ambiguous at this juncture; it would appear to involve the Royal Burnaby Bank providing some sort of financial assistance to a native established ‘Quango’ that goes by the name of the National Assests Management Agency or NAMA as they like to call it. At least on this occasion the natives refrained from giving it one of those vulgar Gaelic names such as “An Bord Conjob” – on this occasion we should be grateful for small mercies.

However despite our general antipathy towards that sorry excuse for a Government which has ruled the occupied territories since 1921; we have not forgotten the one good thing they ever did – the night the Luftwaffe firebombed Church Road( blowing the roof off Mrs Scuffels!) when the  natives sent over an ambulance and a firebrigade

As you are aware this paper is no friend of the natives less some of you forget the long litany of abuses, encroachments and general downright skulduggery engaged in by the natives in their attempt to undermine our dominion. However if we don’t help them – the homeowners of this dominion will be inundated with natives looking for odd jobs.