Home birds and the Irish General Election

Started on my fifth story today and I'm already 2500 words in. Had to stop there though as my head was wrecked, but I'm very happy with the result.

Bertie Ahern called the Irish General Elections yesterday, apparently in a rush as the paperwork required to dissolve the Dail had misspelled 'Taoiseach'. Typical blunder by the cheeky chappy. How we laughed!

I moved back to Dublin nearly four years ago and had missed the last General Election by a year, so I was determined to vote this time around. I'd like to say I was motivated by the suffragettes. But the truth was I wanted to off-set the huge amount of people who will not vote because they are still registered in the back end of beyond.

You see, many people only live in the Big Schmoke because there are no suitable jobs in their home county. But because dirty and expensive Dublin can't hold a candle to their beloved [insert name of town here], some like to pretend that living in Dublin is a 'temporary arrangement', conveniently forgetting that they've been living in Lucan for nearly ten years. Many of these people are still registered 'back home' with their doctors, dentists and other specialists. I've worked with people who have taken Fridays off to see their chiropractor who lives five hours away by train. This would not bother Dubliners as much if it wasn't for their constant winging. (My two cents: If you hate it so much, move back, retrain, work remotely or take a pay cut. Seriously, suck it up! Life is too short.)

But I digress rantingly. Back to the point in hand. I ensured my name and address was firmly added to the electoral roll. (Bertie left a letter for me explaining that he'd tried to visit, but the security in our development was too strict. Awh.) But when the General Election date was announced I was gutted. Slap bang during our holiday to the States. I looked up the postal voting criteria but I didn't qualify for that either. Unbelievable! I would have to wait another five years to vote. I'm still not over it.

So I'm begging you - if you're registered outside the pale can you vote in my place? I will tell you how to vote, but I'll pay for your train ticket home, and promise to be sympathetic the next time you're crying into your pint from homesickness. Bargain.