Minister Willie O'Dea is a little lad and little folk secretly like big toys.
For a few moments of blissful escapism Willie was a child again with machine guns, big pistols, all sorts of powerful weaponry. Suddenly immersed into a Freudian subconscious ecstasy world with boring responsible consciousness gratefully hidden behind an adrenalin built solid wall, Willie was having serious fun. He was 6ft 4 inch Clint Eastwood pointing the big pistol close at the camera and oh so much wanted to utter with gritted teeth "Well punk, do ya feel lucky?" Reality was nagging at him, threatening to pull him back through the wall from paradise.
But this was why I wanted to be Minister for Defense, everything was leading to climaxes like this moment. Nobody needs to know.
Oh shit, I'm on front of the Irish Times! Those feckers Rabbitte, Costello, Higgins and Sargent are giving out stink and the Ceann Comhairle can't even stop them. Joe Duffy's listeners are jamming the RTE switchboard.
"Ahem.... I didn't mean any offence to anyone"...hell, the gun wasn't even loaded.
Mmmh...loaded...that would be fun...must put some of Biffo's extra money into a new firing range...I'll need to open it of course, or maybe twice. Actually we need tanks as well come to think of it. Let me see that Irish Times picture.....Crikey I look the part! Big eyebrows, moustache the envy of Jessie James. Smirky nefarious grin and purposeful eyes aiming the big pistol to blow the brains out of the teasing photographer. Gimme a scissors, it's straight into the scrapbook. What a great life!
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