In a word . . . Wish

I might persuade Kim Jong UN to enter the Rose of Tralee – as Pyongyang Rose


You know those people who say that if they had their life to live over they wouldn’t change a thing? I never believe them. They either suffer from serious lack of imagination or there’s a spouse looking over their shoulder.

But it does set me thinking. If I ruled the world sort of thing. First of all I'd ban that silly song. Wishing every day would be the first day of Spring!

Who in their right mind wants 365 versions of February 1st?

I would go to North Korea. I’d cobble the fare from our glorious trinity Shane, Finian, John, and set off to see the Wonderful Wizard Kim Jong Un and together we’d make ever-lasting world peace. I might persuade him then to enter the Rose of Tralee. As Pyongyang Rose.

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It would of course be open to all genders and none.

Then I’d return via the US where I’d organise a highly successful “Dump the Trump” campaign while undergoing intensive UFC training. This would allow for my bout with Conor McGregor who I’d send spinning back to the tough Tallaght Gaeltacht which American media says he comes from, and with just one punch in the first seconds of Round 1.

For which I’d get an agreed fee of $50 million dollars.

Then I'd learn to dance like Fred Astaire in Top Hat and send out that search party Dustin the Turkey promised during the 1990 presidential election campaign, but never fulfilled, to see whether Leitrim really existed.

I'd make a new GAA rule that only footballers whose great-grandparents were both born in Dublin city could play on the senior county side while anyone throughout the worldwide Irish diaspora who had a great-granny from Mayo would be eligible to play for that county. As Dublin manager Jim Gavin's father came from Clare he'd be declared ineligible to continue in that role.

I'd abolish all work while effortlessly writing the greatest Irish novel ever, so stunning it would relegate Joyce to the last millennium where he belongs in secula seculorum.

I’d indulge myself shamelessly without putting on an ounce of weight or suffering any hangovers. I might even cultivate some bad habits so I’d have something to improve on in myself. And I’d finally find out how Jacobs really do put those figs into Fig Rolls!

To wish, from Old English wyscan. Itself from Norse œskja, Danish ønske, Dutch wensen, and German wunschen.

inaword@irishtimes.com