Sitting at a wobbly table on the path of an Irish street in mid January is madness

‘IF I ruled the world, Every man would say the world was his friend…’ ‘You are in good form, Medders.’ ‘ There’d be happiness that no man could end...’ Yes, I certainly am in good form, giving it socks in my best Harry Secombe imitation. Does anyone else remember Harry Secombe? Sure, we all remember Secombe, because he played Mister Bumble in the film version of ‘Oliver!’ And besides being a comedian, lining up with Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan and the rest in The Goons, our Harry also knew how to let rip with a good tune.

I am old enough to remember when he had a minor hit with ‘If I Ruled the World’, way back in 1963, and the lyrics have stuck with me. More than half a century later I find myself still belting them out as I peel the spuds for dinner at The Manor.

‘If I ruled the world, Every man would be as free as a bird, Every voice would be a voice to be heard…’

Hold on! I’m not so sure that, if I really did rule the world, my regime would be as benign as that of the genial Welsh entertainer.

‘My world would be a beautiful place, Where we would weave such wonderful dreams, My world would wear a smile on its face...’

It is all beginning to sound just a little…aspirational maybe. Like a People Before Profit election manifesto perhaps.

‘Every head would be held up high, There’d be sunshine in everyone’s sky…’

Now wait a minute. If Medders ruled the world, then all this wonderful dreams, beautiful place, free as a bird stuff would have to be tempered somewhat. Where’s the point in being a ruler if you can’t lay down a few rules?

I take a skelp of skin off my finger and cease potato peeling activities to mop up the blood while contemplating how my administration would operate. For starters, if I ruled the world, I would ban the playing of a recording of a trumpet solo at Donnybrook over the public address system every time the Leinster rugby team scores a try.

This practice appears to have been imported from the South of France. The tune has a Basque bull-fighting ring to it. The recording is played and the supporters are expected to cheer, in a ritual which has lost whatever good humour and spontaneity and novelty it may once have had. Under the new regime, the tune must be played by real, live trumpeters and the crowd will only cheer if they make a decent fist of it.

If I ruled the world, the tradition of free speech would be have to be reviewed and curtailed. This would not be an attempt to stifle criticism of my rule but rather an effort to ensure that such criticism is couched in terms that I can understand. The list of banned words and phrases would include:

Second guess. I have frankly no idea what this means. Did the guesser somehow fail to guess correctly the first time they guessed? There must be a better way.

Zeitgeist. Any time I read or hear the word Zeitgeist I make a resolution to look it up in a dictionary. But which dictionary? An English one or a German one? As a despot, rather than making resolutions which are never kept, I could ban the Zeitgeist altogether and have done with it.

Line in the sand. For some reason, these four words have come to acquire a ‘ they shall not pass’ ring. But any eejit must know that a line drawn in the sand is likely to be re-drawn by a light breeze. Give me solid, DUP-style, no nonsense red lines – none of those wafty, shifting, sandy lines - so we all know exactly where we stand. ‘If I ruled the world, Every day would be the first day of spring…’ What a charming idea but totally impossible. The first day of spring is still a long way off. So I shall direct the health and safety section in my department of Irish affairs to take action. Their brief will be to eliminate the deployment in winter of outdoor furniture by cafes where customers are encouraged to drink coffee in the open air. Sitting at a wobbly table on the pavement of an Irish street in the middle of January is patent madness and must be stopped.

In the words of Mel Brooks: ‘It’s good to be the king.’