Sunny South East,

[Guest maricelbill]

Up I went to the clubhouse anyway. To cut a long story short, as my mother is fond of saying, before speaking for a week and saying nothing of value. Little wonder then she gave birth to two pigeon fanciers. But then, you can be too brief, and the value is lost, as my good friend and author Kate Walker once said to me, B' you can shoot someone in a sentence. But it's the two pages leading up to the shooting is where the real story lies. So where does the real story lay?

There was an amateur comedy night at the Clubhouse; a fund raiser for a local charity. PJ had set up a stage in the corner beside the door to the toilets. A great spotlight cut through the dimly lit bar. A Super Trouper. The air was heavy with the scent of makeup. The amateurs were taking comedy seriously. I was reminded of Red Adair, the firefighter. If you think professionals are expensive wait til you try amateurs. I looked around for a seat. No one was who they appeared to be. No one. I noticed Laurel and Hardy sitting with the Pigeon Liberation Association. The P.L.A. They must have left the Pigeon Liberation Front. The P.L.F. recently.

The secretary and treasurer of the Pigeon Liberation Society, The P.L.S, were dressed as Abbott & Costello and were about to mount the stage. The tall secretary dressed in a baseball outfit carried the baseball club. They were going to attempt the most famous routines in comedy history. Abbot & Costello's Who is on first base. What is on second. I don't know is on third. If you haven't seen it go watch it on You tube then come back and read this article. See you in a five minuter.

The Clubhouse is shared with other clubs in the area. The 5 member P.L.A occupy the seats nearest the door as they being the smallest club like to sit near the exit and as far as possible from the 20 member Pigeon Liberation Society. The P.L.S. Then of course you have Pigeon Liberation Front. The P.L.F.. The Pigeon Liberation Organization. The P.L.O. The Saturday Liberation Movement. The S.L.M. There was the one loft consortium collectively known as Slap Happy Irish Team. They were all sat together in the one cubicle. Then there was the Movement for Saturday Liberation. The M.S.L. As you probably guessed are a splinter group of the S.L.M. The split with the S.L.M and the M.S.L came about when the M.S.L opted to support Sunday racing but wanted to keep the name "Saturday" in their cub. So just to be clear, the Movement for Saturday Liberation, M.S.L are in fact supporters of Sunday racing. I'm not a big fan of splinter groups generally. Unjustified ones that is. Clubs that could hold their A.G.M. in a telephone box.

From the stage Abbot and Costello had started their routine.

Who is on first. What's on second. I don't know is on third.

Why let that shower keep the name Saturday? said one of the members better known as Caveman. A veteran of many clubs. Why should we call ourselves Sunday just to suit them. We are as entitled to the name Saturday as they are. Aren't we? We paid our share of the banner with Saturday written on it.

That's what I wanna find out? The guy's names.

They can have the banner but we're keeping the name Saturday. And we want all Sunday racing. Then the Saturday for old birds Sunday for Young birds were formed. There aren't enough letters in the alphabet to form an acronym. They didn't turn up tonight because they never know what day it is.

But naturally,many agreed with Caveman about the name because most people go along to get along. Here comes Caveman now heading for the bar now sporting red rugby jersey with No 1 on the back. Our eyes make contact. Well, says I, because it's hard to ignore a man heading in your direction. How is the new cub going? I said, finally coming up with a greeting. Here was a character you could certainly shoot in a sentence.

I'm axing yeh, what's the name of the guy on first base?

Tiz grand, says Caveman. Now that we're after getting rid of that other crowd. And the other crowd as well the Saturday- Sunday mob. Sure there worse than the P.L.O. And ah, we're only taking applications at the A.G.M in case you are thinking of joining. TIz a rule we have. He somehow maneuvered himself between me and the bar so I was facing the bar and could see P.J over Caveman's shoulder. P.J was setting up the cocktail glasses and looked at me as if to say, You're in trouble now, Kiddo. It would be happy hour at 8 bells. The brass bell itself hanging above PJs head. Everyone was sitting around with empty glasses waiting for the half price cocktails.

I wasn't thinking of applying, I said. It never crossed my mind.

What? says Caveman shaking his face in in disbelief.

What's on second. Who is on first.

That's what I'm axing yeh. Who is on first?

 

Yes.

I mean the guy's name.

 

Who.

 

The guy on first base.,

 

Who.

 

The guy on first base.

 

Who,

 

Caveman's beard seemed to me to be curling with tension. So to say something I said I hear your radius is 100 yards from the corner shop. The door handle on the corner shop to be accurate.

The inside or the outside door handle?

I don't know.

I don't know is on third

And is it the inside or outside handle when the door is fully open or fully closed?

When it's fully open?? I was guessing.

Someone been spreading stories again.

Oh Really. Who?

Who is on first.

I don't know. That's what I been tryin' to find out.

I don't know is on third.

Well if you must know.............

I don't need to know. I'm not really that bothered, I said.

Well just in case. He scanned the room to check we couldn't be overheard. It's the inside handle when the door is open.

Look Lou, It's all really very simple.

Well go ahead an' explain it then.

As it happens, I said, your radius cuts my house in two. Well four or six actually depending on whether the door is open or closed. You see, the back garden is outside the radius and the front garden is inside. If I make a cup of tea I am inside the radius when I go to drink it I am outside it again. Depending on which part of the garden and whether the door is open or closed. The back garden is inside the radius of the S.L.M but the rest of the house is outside. My bathroom is inside the P.L.S. but the bedrooms are outside and my car is inside the Radius of the PLO when I park it out on the street but inside when I park on the driveway. However, both the bathroom and bedroom are either fully inside or fully outside the radius of your club depending on whether the door is open or closed.

 

Do you keep pigeons in the bathroom.

 

No.

 

Then you can't join. But we might change it at the A.G.M. He leaned forward and spoke in a drone. What you make of the E.L.O?

Brilliant. I said, thinking the conversation at an end. Oh sweet bliss take me to your heavenly bosom. I grew up with Jeff Beck.

Who? said Caveman.

Who is on first.

Jeff Beck.

Never heard of him, he said, what club is he in?

What are you taking about? I asked?

What's on second.

What are you taking about more like? insists Caveman. I'm taking about the E.L.O.

So am I.

The EEE LLL OH OH OH OH OH.

Electric Light Orchestra??? I asked and called to PG for a pint. PJ was behind the bar with his fist in his mouth. Tears running from his eyes. Big ears like seashells.

Never head of them, said Caveman. I'm not into modern music.

Huh? No, they're.........oh forget it.

I'm taking about the E.L.O. Early Liberation Organization. They're new.

And what's their radius? i asked.

I don't know......

I don't know is on third.

Look, all I wanna know is when you pay the first baseman, how does he sign his name?

........they're keeping it a secret.

Who.

The guy on first base?

Who

The guy on first base?

Who signs. Sometimes his wife signs.

Who's wife?

Yes.

With that Laure and Hardy joined the conversation. Or would have if I hadn't I checked the word count. P.J by now was on his hands and knees behind the bar. His wife was becoming concerned PJ would give himself a hernia. What's he laughing for, says Ollie, fixing Stan's bowler hat. They're not that funny.

I've no idea. I lied.

He twirled his bow tie and snapped his braces. If he thinks they're funny just you hear what me and Stanley have in store.

I can't wait, I said feeling my jaw muscles twitch like a water diviners rod.

PJs wife rang the bell. Half price cocktails. What can I get you all?

I'm a Screwball, says the Caveman. Two Proper Nutters for Stan and Ollie and Sex on the Pannier for the Missus.

PJ was beating the floor with his fist.

A shooter for me, I said. Sweet God in Heaven, it must be two pages by now.

 

So all of this got me thinking. The comedy of life and the things we take too seriously. The amateur and the professional. It is though as if we sprinkled coins on a map. If you happen to live on a coin then you're on the money. Live outside a coin, well tough. Depending of course on whether the door is open or closed. Ireland has seen massive growth in towns, cities, villages, nudist colonies and hippie communes. Old barriers and boundaries broken down. Gone forever. Parishes spread one into the other. The New Irish have no tribal affinity. Tribes and parishes and who owns what piece of mud belong to another time.

Pigeon clubs and organizations, rather than expanding with these new towns, rather than grasping this massive potential, have in fact shrunk. No Irish Need Apply. When it comes to radius size does indeed matter. Small is beautiful. The answer to those living in No Man's Land is "They can fly in the Nationals" . This, for me, is unacceptable.

The question must be asked. Is it time to set up a third region? A region with responsibility for the provinces. I believe where clubs are located located 20 and 30 miles apart Radii need to be abolished. Every fancier should have the right to join his nearest club and compete in whichever federation or combine that cub is affiliated too. With provision for fairness of course.

All clubs must in future belong to and be controlled by the union so the clubs become satellites. One rule for all. Only then will a fair and proper system evolve. There is really only only rule. The sport comes first. Pigeon racing is no longer a hobby. No longer an amateur pastime. Pigeon racing is a professional competitive sport and we need to reflect that in our management systems. We must have recognition as a sport. Modern facilities at every level. Pigeon racing is a multimillion pound industry. We need not only experience, but young, vibrant, energetic people who have the talent to grow and to develop this amazing sport. Tradition for tradition's sake leads only to stagnation.

 

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The Irish Homing Union National Flying Club held it's A.G.M recently with the outgoing committee all returned to office. Patsy Dowling (Secretary) Fred Malone (Treasurer) and my old buddy Joe Connolly in the Chair. This is an organisation on the up with very many new members from along the Shannon and a new marking station in Cork seeing enormous growth in membership from the republic along the banks of the River Lee. I have already paid tribute to Patsy in a previous article, but I will do so again because it is justified. Patsy Dowling can take great satisfaction in this National Flying Club. His passion for it is amazing. Fred Malone's enthusiasm is infectious. There is determination also to steer a steady ship. It is an organisation with exciting times ahead. Full details, membership application forms, closing dates etc, on IHUNFC.COM.

It's your National. Wear it with pride. Fly with distinction.

 

Promethius.