Celtic Illumination, part 29, a shrink, a pervert and the loveliest legs in Ireland
For those of you who have faithfully followed this blog I apologise as the story seems to be coming out in flashback form either that or my Tourette’s is coming back. However, there’s no great problem. We are now at my point in my training to become the greatest Master Candle Maker, ever and the King of Ireland, where I have been expelled from Violent Hell, lived with some priests, become proficient in hand to hand combat from the streets of Belfast to the handball courts at Violent Hell and still have the loveliest legs in Ireland.
My parents were distraught. I was the worst thing that had ever happened to their families. I was shame personified. Had they known that the uncle priest would eventually be known as the biggest paedophile in Ireland they would probably have said that at least he was never expelled from Violent Hell and he was also the best in his field. There was a huge age different between myself at my parents, they were mid-fifties when they got me so by the time I was entering my teens they were mid-sixties and way out of their depth when it came to youth culture.
They ended up buying a house in Warrenpoint and having hardly ever spent time with me, as I was either locked up at Violent Hell or dancing away in Irish at the Gaeltacht the experience of having a hormonally challenged teenager rampaging through their house was quite an effort for all of us. My maternal grandmother was elderly and frail and came to live with us, however this meant that the uncle priest would come and celebrate mass in our front room which I would have to attend.
Normally I would have left the house to go to mass but would never make it that far. I would be at the dock wall watching boats and ships and later in pubs and clubs. But there was one problem, as they would say, the white elephant in the room. The uncles put pressure on Violent Hell and it was agreed that I could return, however as we now lived only ten miles away I would only be allowed back as a day pupil and only on the condition that I attended a certain number of sessions with a child physiologist.
The school was probably hoping that I would be categorised as deranged and let them off the hook and my parents probably hoped that there would be medication to correct my behaviour. I on the other hand didn’t really care what they thought.
I wasn’t aware but for my final meeting with the psychologist they were all there. I walked in to the consulting room to see the school president, the dean, the pervert uncle, mum, dad and the psychologist. The head shrink then detailed his findings and announced that I was quite normal and sane and that if I should ever feel tension I should go into the garage find a plank of wood and hammer some nails into it.
They all stormed off as none of them got the result they wanted and I was allowed to walk home as they each thought the other would take me in their car. But the one thing that I was certain off was that there would not be enough nails in the world.