Rose of Tralee

I have to admit, I don't like the Rose of Tralee festival. I consider it the intellectual, political and cultural equivalent of the "Lovely Girls" contest on Father Ted.

All that aside it would appear that Balrog and the festival will be entering a period of Détente this year, unlike other years.

The reason for this is very simple; my cousin has been selected as the Limerick Rose.

As you can imagine Rebecca is over the moon and even my suggestion to her that she should change her title to Stab City Rose did nothing to dent her jubilation upon her selection.

I asked her how as a Dundalk girl she could be considered a Limerick Rose; her reply was that her heart is in Limerick. I thought she meant flick knife but there is only so much ribbing I could give on one occasion. It just wouldn't be fair.

She now moves on to the regional finals in June in the hope of making it to the final in August.

She's the eldest of the Gaskin grand-children, I’m the second oldest though I'm a bloke so that makes me head honcho (that’s a joke feminazis).

I'd like to wish her well in the interests of family unity; my Aunt Mary is going to be hard to listen to though.

No comments: