Niamh Walsh’s Manifesto
#BeKind – but don’t be hypocritical celeb either
THE untimely death of anyone is a tragedy but the suicide of muchloved, vibrant, warm and talented presenter Caroline Flack has brought forth a surge of sympathy and resonated with many millions.
The ripple effect of Caroline’s death at just 40, with so much to live for, is one that should cause each and very one of us to pause and take a good, hard introspective look at ourselves, our actions, behaviour and our words.
But while criticism and critique should be more tempered, it should absolutely not be censored.
The #bekind movement that has gained momentum in the past week is nauseating in the extreme.
The sentiment that we be kinder to one another is one we should all aspire to, whether you’re a journalist, jobless, a mother, a father, a son or a daughter.
Kindness is a quality that should be intrinsic in our moral fibre and learned from the home.
What ‘being kind’ is NOT, is a way of treating others that’s dictated to us by a celebrity cabal, many of whom are pretty much behind this movement. Because the current admonitions to #bekind are being spearheaded by a bunch of hypocritical celebrities, most of whom, from what I can see, are seeking to absolve or justify their own past bad behaviour by preaching to the rest of us that WE should #bekind.
Singer Brian McFadden this week waded in with his own Twitter two pence when he called on others to #bekind and castigated people for directing ‘unkind words in the direction’ of put-upon celebs.
McFadden conveniently forgot his own many, many contributions to online nastiness.
One unearthed tweet saw him call singer Noel Gallagher ‘a c***’. He also called his ex-wife and the mother of his children, Kerry
Katona, a ‘pig faced mole face’ and told her to ‘take the bowl of mayonaise [sic] drenched chips out of your face and look in the mirror!’ How terribly kind of him.
So, while lessons do need to be learned after the suicide of Caroline Flack, I am not taking mine from virtue signalling, selfappointed Twitterati teachers hyped up on hypocrisy who suffer from a curious case of collective amnesia.
Give up your job as postman, minister!
WHO would have thought it? We all know that TDs like to double job but now it seems that Ireland has its very own real-life version of Postman Pat in the unlikely form of Fine Gael minister Heather Humphreys.
The Monaghan minister, it has emerged, took it upon herself to deliver a letter to the Department of Agriculture in a pending animal cruelty case against a local farmer who has previous convictions for ‘stomach churning’ cruelty to farm animals. Brian Wright, whose farm straddles the border at Newbliss, was due to stand trial on three charges of animal cruelty on February 3, but the Department dropped the charges that morning. Lucky guy, eh?
The minister denies she acted inappropriately by delivering a letter from a concerned constituent apparently containing allegations about officials. She was only the messenger girl, she says. But guess what? The Department of Agriculture was the prosecuting authority in the case.
The minister’s spokesman insisted she took the ‘appropriate action’ by ensuring the letter was brought to the department’s attention.
No, minister. The only appropriate action in a case before the courts was to drop the letter like a hot brick and tell the ‘concerned constituent’ to pop it into the nearest postbox marked FAO Minister Creed. After all, that’s what An Post is for.
Geena and the Jens outshine wannabes
ACTRESS Geena Davis stole the show at this year’s Oscars in a simple yet sassy and sexy Romona Keveža dress featuring a sequined V-neck bodice and a French net lattice. At 64, Geena looked effortlessly beautiful and much more youthful than her years. Jennifer Aniston at 52 is also as positively pretty as ever and Jennifer Lopez’s recent Super Bowl spectacular shows that these leading ladies have more than still got it.
The younger lot of reality wannabes and Instagrammers pale in comparison to our elder elegant ladies.
EuroMillions win was one to forget
SO THIS week Ireland had another EuroMillions winner and it wasn’t me, despite the National Lottery filling me with false financial fervour. I had opted to do the Lotto online and was ecstatic to say the least, to receive an email from Lotto HQ telling me I had ‘some exciting news. I was a winner.
As I was metaphorically composing my resignation letter, I waited with unbridled anticipation to log in only to find that the Lotto’s idea of exciting and mine are bonus balls apart. I was up on my ticket spend by a measly €2.
So lads of the Lotto, how about halting the hype and dialling down the hyperbole?
Fine dining... and even better hosts
ONE of my favourite restaurants, Dublin’s L’Ecrivain, is sadly to shut its doors after 31 years.
I was fortunate enough to dine in L’Ecrivain on a number of occasions and while the food cooked by chef Derry Clarke was always simply divine and deserving of their many Michelin stars it was the staff, the atmosphere and service that was undoubtedly L’Ecrivain’s most luminous light.
Sallyanne Clarke is one of the finest humans that I have been lucky enough to meet through the course of my work and someone I am now blessed to call a friend.
For three decades she was the blonde, beautiful, smiling, matriarchal face, with a twinkle of divilment, who greeted customers.
Whether a president, politician or a pleb journalist at a free press event, Sallyanne afforded all of us superstar, stellar service.
So to Sallyanne and Derry, while you may have made the Michelin guide many times over, to everyone who has ever met you, knows you and loves you, both of you are the sun, moon and stars. STARS IN THEIR OWN RIGHT: Salllyanne and Derry Clarke