“The fellow members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of the communion…Communities are to be distinguished, not by their falsity or genuineness, but in the style in which they are imagined.”-Benedict Anderson
Confusion reigned this week as Wexfordians and Wicklowain awoke to the news that they were now one and the same, akin to some twisted failed abortion of a Frankenstein. In an unprecedented move, the Electoral Commission decided to crossbreed Arklow and Gorey voters by haphazardly pooling them within the same voting district, Wicklow South and Wexford North, or “Wexlow.” As a result of this unholy alliance, massive queues have already formed at the constituency borders as desperate citizens attempt to flee to the safety of neighbouring sanctuary sites such as Glenealy and Knockanna. Parents from Wexlow that have already interbred before being warned of the dangers are reporting birth defects present in their new borns. Many geoplitical analysts fear this new constituency will merely exacerbate centuries-old simmering tensions between the rival militia factions, whilst local representatives predict a Mad Max-style apocalyptic meltdown.
“Well, when the wall came down I was hopeful we would see joyous scenes of comradery much like Berlin ’89 but instead we saw an immediate increase in gang rapes, tortures and beheadings by opposing terrorist death squads, The Arkla Arse Bandits and Gorey Mucksavage Molestors,” opined a visibly shaken local councillor Billy Fitzbollocks.
“It’s already reminding me very much of the Rwandan genocide off that Reeling in the Years. At least that was edited to some catchy pop tune of the day but never did I think a similar massacre would arrive on my own doorstep. A delicate peace process, spearheaded by myself over many years, had kept the rival gangs on either side of the wall but, now that the watchtowers and helicopter patrols are gone, all that hard work is up in smoke thanks to some bigwig Dublin jackeens in an office somewhere. That border was always what separated us from the Gorey Mucksavage Molsters, but now I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Let’s be honest, I was always as pointless as tits on a Barbie doll, a useful parish-pump parochial idiot for my Fianna Fail party leaders to split the local vote, a no-hoper there to take precious votes from realistic political contenders. If jobs miraculously ended up in the town, I would always take sole credit for employment coming here and not our arch-rivals Gorey. Now what’s the point when the towns are all one and the fuckin same, I ask you?”
Concerns have also been raised in local GAA club circles as respective Arklow and Gorey managers have already noticed a drop-off of intensity in their historic rivalry.
“Well, I used to love nothing more than showing up at the match Sunday morning after not getting me hole again off the missus the night before, which would always lead me to batin the children senseless too. I still would have a lot of rage in me though and what better way to unleash this than on me players, management staff, referees, linesmen, fans, parents,dogs, cats, groundskeepers and anyone else who made the mistake of existing in my presence,” pronounced the manager of Arklow Bogball Padraig Pearse Michael Collins Arthur Griffith Na Fianna Fuck the Brits GAA Club, Jimmy O Gobshite.
“But what if what if ‘we’ are ‘them’? What if identity is merely a statement of opposition to outside forces; a form, more or less, of uncessary protest? ” I eloquently mused before being swiftly punched in the face by O Gobshite.
“I would instil my boys with my own unfounded fear and rage of the Gorey lads first, and instruct them to play football after. But now the fuckin pansies are all shaking hands and swapping jerseys after the match cos we are in the same voting district for fucks sake! I already miss the days when it was like Israel vs. Palestine but mark my words, I will continue to sow the non-existent seeds of division between the towns till my dying breath!” shouted Gobshite.
Another victim of the political turmoil is local GAA groupie Shannon Burns, who misspent her youth servicing that entire Arklow team out the back of the now defunct Cube Nightclub.
“I never would have dreamt of sucking off any player to do with Gorey, I want my blowjobs back!”
But it’s not all bad news for the inhabitants of this new demilitarised zone, once pariahs of both Arklow and Gorey, the union of Dublin Scumbags, Addicts and Reprobates now have the political freedom to form their own state within this new jurisdiction, Junkietown. These oft-much-maligned blow-ins to the South East plan to hold their first elections early next year, promising a new dawn in Scumbag/ Wexlow relations.
“The World is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion.”- Thomas Paine
