Watching the NAMA thing in the Dail on telly - stressful. Not able for it, but can't look away. Between this and Lisbon 2, I've got an awfully sickly sinking feeling - but all I can do is watch as it all goes to pot. A lot of talk going on, all quite hopeless to be honest.
Christ. Recessions happen! It's natural; crap, and tough, but natural. The economy ebbs and flows and none of this knee-jerk panic is going to help - this bizarre plan is insane, and too risky to justify. Yet I'm listening to the bastards try and fail at doing just that... and wondering how they sleep.
I s'pose Cowen probably drinks himself into a coma, his huge red nose swelling with saturation, and whatever guilt he SHOULD feel, numbed. My mum said she feels sorry for him - Bertie having landed him in this, and all. But, I'm sorry, who was the Finance Minister under Bertie, again? Rudolf himself.
Anyone else up for a sesh on Lisbon night? Either to celebrate or mourn - whichever.
"May you live in interesting times..."