The State that I am in

“Would you try some a deese lovelie sang-wiches that me mudder make for 爱?

Dere do be ferocious aeting on dem!” enquired the man.

“Well a man like me-shelf does nay be a sayin nay ta da likes o dat!” replied Enrico.

The sangwich of carrageen moss, containing tiny pieces of bread and potato modeled to resemble rice was served - somewhat disconcertingly - by the old Aer-C-ish man who looked like the Donald yet who carried himself in a distinctly Japan-knees way, walking and moving with very deft, purposeful, yet somehow awkward movements, like a priest arriving late for a wedding that he was officiating at (and all of that at odds with his ginger dreadlocks, not to mention his bald spot).

The sangwitch itshelf: it was a bitter, no… sweet, or maybe sour, no no…, or actually salty, No, no no… that doesn’t work; it was none of those. Yet it was undeniably an olifactory moment. Enrico searched and searched and searched in he cook book – pronounced “Koook Booo-wick” - and then he remembered! Sure wasn’t it an “umani” moment? The most elusive taste of all! No one even knows what that be. But it definitely do a be a being an umani moment, bye!

“yummy umani yea, bye?” the rastafarmarian man enquired “mmm molto yummy umani! comma la mama fare! 好好吃哦!” said Enrico in the gay lick.

As he chowed down on this sandwich of carigeen Enricos ear was drawn to the conversation at the neighboring field. It appeared to be taking place between an older rastafarmarian of about 80 and a young boy – presumably his grandson – of about 6:

“No we no can’t a be a visit him, bye, but he dabby a be a back next week” the old man shouted from the field.

“But we can visit him now and he can come back next week” the wee ladeen insisted / yelled back from the roadside

“But he do be a be a being in a da Dubland, bye” countered / roared the old man

“where’s that?” enquired / squeaked the wee laden, loudly

“Oh Air-D do be molto far away, molto far away indeed, bye’

“How far?”

“Oh across da bridge, and den dere be many more a dem. And den it be a hundred mile bye, and den there be more bridges, an den there be da roundybow-it a da red cow, bye - dere be no passin dat- to be sure to be sure moving farward in dis generation, triumphantly, now won’t you help ta sing, dese songs a freedam, cause all爱 eva had, redemption songs, bye” said the old man in the gay lick.

I hope you recover soon :face_with_monocle::smirk:


The story of the fragmentation of the Air爱breathe into 24+ pieces Air A – Air Z + ‘the whest’ is perhaps a peculiar one.

It started of course with the separation of Air-Ah in 1921. Then following from the great finance-nonsensical depression in 2021 Air-bnb withdrew.

Air-Bnb was a union of Air-bnb owners who opposed the levying of taxes by Air-Ah, and withdrew with the backing of ‘the banks’.

Air-Ah distracted by a fiver allowed the withdrawal of 2,451 online bookable residences from “the state that I am in”.

Air-bnb has been since ruled by ‘the teashop’ an air-bnb and café located on the Dingle Dangle peninsula. Outraged at the break up of the union, and the increasing post capitalist liberlaisim of the banks Air-C withdrew in 2023 to set up a post communistical peoples republic roughly corresponding with the boundaries of the county of Cork. Then on Christmas day of the same year the Republic of Air-D was declared as Dubland made its strike for freedom. The peculiar thing about Dubland is that it is the only one of the O’Airs-A through Z’s that does not refer to its self simply as “Ireland” in the MacDublish language. All of the other Air-A through Z’s are officially called “Ireland”.

Air-E was an Ireland based principally around parts of the town of Enistymon, Air-F smaller still, and then things began to become peculiar with the emergence of Ireland on a macro scale. Air-m was a municipal swimming pool in Galway, Air-n was a packet of soup, and Aer-o was of course a chocolate bar, located in the teashop. Of course the macro airs did complicate things, getting a visa just to go swimming or to have a cup of tea became a consternation, especially considering that the people working in the various departments of visa confusions cound’nt remember their own names, let alone answer a telephone call or stamp a passport within twenty years of receiving it, some of the immigration authorities didn’t even have paper or computers. Thus the development of the Irelands began to slow somewhat and performing ordinary daily routines became difficult. However that was nothing compared to the complications that began to emerge with the withdrawal of the nano airs. Air-p was a protein, and invisible as it was it was quite present in certain brands of bread, and thus it became often necessary to get a visa in order to eat a sandwich. This of course lead to the practice of disguising bread by breaking it up and molding it into the shape of rice. Air-Q was a quark. It was located in an atom that was itself located in the skull of a farmers dog. That same farmer lived with his dog in a territory that was disputed between no less than fourteen Irelands and great political ramifications would emerge every time the dog wagged its tail, let alone ran around on the mountain to bring in the sheep. These were of course complicated times and lead of course inevitably towards the sad tale of “the annoyances” in the whest.

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What’s that?
Please don’t make me Google it, as I’m afraid of might show up. :stuck_out_tongue_winking_eye:



Its getting worse though. If you want to keep reading:

Enrico, patted around the corners of his mouth, “that sangwich was tastetastic” .

“Dere is something dat I should tell you about that sangwich though” said the man.

“It had a high concentration of Air-p in the carrageen, and on occasion this has been known to cause a loss of sovereignty over ones own body, if one is not accustomed to the air-p. Tell me sir, do you regularly eat of the spicy hot pot?”

“No I don’t” replied Enrico. “Do you mean I might get an upset tummy?”

“No far worse than that: It has been known that a man like yourshelf who has suddenly ingested a large quantity of Air-p may in fact loose the nationality of his cells. This is not a major problem should all your cells become those of a man of Air-p. However it can lead to a serious condition of dual nationality where only part of your body acquires the new nationality. The immigration officials are not accustomed to it you see. Tell me sir, what passport are you carrying?”

Air-O replied Enrico.

Oh replied the man, well you are on home turf here in the teashop then” replied the man “well let’s just keep our fingers crossed. If 24 stage Irish Canadians with fake ass Connor Macgregor beards and mocky-ah Darby O’Gill accents arrive at the door in a moment you are snookered.”

As he said the word ‘snookered’ there was a sharp rap on the door of the teashop, and then the door swung open. In marched 25 fake ass stage Irish men – read Canadians here - each wearing a little hat with a letter on it and each muttering to himshelf in a plastic paddy / canukian kind of way. “Aboot the hoose, bye” “We dabby aboot da hoose, top a da morning to all yalls, bye!” Said the tallest beardiest fakest most red faced and angriest looking one of the lot, he had a big letter “O” on his stage Irish hat. “I dabby paddy-O, and I dabyy da immigration official for Air-O, bye! May I ask you sir, if you have a passport for your left foot, I see it is a national of Air-p”

Enrico was stunned, “No I carry an Aer-O passport”

“I know that, don’t patronsie me” “I am talking about your non EU foot” “May I ask you sir if you know your left foot?”

“What, the movie?” asked Enrico, puzzled?

“I told you to stop patronizing me!” roared the stage Irish man. “This is a quazi judicial situation and I could have you interned! Now answer my questions: How did you meet your foot, And how long have you known it for?”

“I, I met my foot when I was born sir”

“And do you have papers to show that?”

Enrio rustled in his bag and pulled out his birth cert. As he handed the cert to the Sage Irish man he muttered: “you have no right” under his breath.

No sooner had he said that than he saw a flash of white light and when he opened his eyes again everything was blurry. He was lying on the ground. There was something wet on his face. It was blood. The plastic paddy had punched him in the face. He was standing over him roaring. “I have every right! I have every right! I am an agent of the state that you are in! And I do not know who your left foot is, where it came from or who it belongs too!!

Image: Stage Paddy O

Plastic Paddies notin worse dan dat maybe part from de plastic gangsta paddy wannabe in it? get better soon not good to ear u gon down de hill a bit. get urself beteer soon:+1:

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And so only three pages into his pocket novel titled “the state that I am in” Enrico found himself in a disfavourable situation. Sat in the middle of the teashop with his left foot in a fridge and circled by 25 angry leprechauns.

He hadn’t even reached the bit about spinning tables round in marks and spensers and riding busses for a hobby yet. But already it felt like time to stop. This pocket novel was truly awful. The Belle and Sebastian guy would be disgusted, 玄奘; would be disgusted, Enrico was disgusted. “can I take my left foot out of the fridge please for the love of god?” he pleaded with paddy-O

Paddy-O didn’t even grace him with a trademark sideways glace. He was facked. What next?

The reason by the way that his foot was in the fridge, was that the fridge was full of carrageen, and as such was sovereign territory of Air-p, and his foot being a national of Air-p had the right to remain there. Not so in Aer-O unfortunamalementaly. Paddy-O was manning the gates and he was having none of it.

After 30 minutes it was fair to say that Enrico was objectively uncomfortable. But after five hours he was in real trouble. “Please, please let me take my foot out of the fridge! I’m sorry! I’m sorry that I said you were a fake ass plastic paddy ok? This is torture? Please!”

“I couldn’t care less what you are sorry or not” said Paddy-O somehow still red-faced and angry, at least in appearance. “there are 24 more paddies here that you need to apologize to” If they agree to issue a visa for your foot, I might take it on my discretionally principle as an executive officer of the state that you are in to allow you to take your foot out of the fridge- do ya hear me bye?” Said the Canadian of German descent dressed up in a leprechaun costume.

First up the LGBT paddy.

At that point a very slick looking leprechaun with black hair and a very nicely trimmed beard, and roundy glasses stepped up. “I am sorry Enrico to see that you have been predominantly favoring Arial font? And even worse Times New Roman?? Can you explain that?? Surely you could as a minimum have gone for Palatino Linotype?

Air-lGBT brother! Please tell him to let me take my foot out of the fridge please I am getting frost bit!” pleaded Enrico.

“Well now, I would very much like to do that but you have not answered my question and in addition what was all that about the “ gay lick ”? Can you explain that? Would you not think for a moment that an LGBT leprechaun like me-shelf could feel somewhat uncomfortable when confronted with such language, have you no class my man? And as a final question how do you feel about the eurovisons?”

I’m sorry pleaded Enrico, Gay lick was just a stupid joke I just thought it rhymed and it was funny, Israel shouldn’t be allowed compete until its policies towards Gaza are relaxed, please my foot!”

Paddy-O stepped forward: “well LGBTpaddy what is your verdict?”

“This man is an idiot, not a homophobe, and for that reason I will not veto a decision if the leprechaun council agrees to issue a visa for his foot. However I request that he agrees to desist from his use of the term “gay lick”as it offends @Brianjones grandfather, and we don’t want no fights round here”


visa for his foot declined off with it

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Ha ha,:joy: your jumping the gun, 24 more paddies and a twist in the tale to come

Flann.O Brien met Ian Paisley on June 16th and this is what happened lol.

It’s funny you pay homage to the great Irish writers.

Formosa says No!

pS too.many drugs can be a bad thing…

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Nicely spotted

Enrico thought to himself wondering who the next leprechaun might be. As if reading his thoughts, Paddy-O loudly declared: “Air-Q immigration control should examine the migrant foot now”. There was a short pause, and then from the back of the room a shadow began to emerge, it was a man with two hands and a cowboy style hat. In one hand he was carrying a pint of stout, a lit cigarette, and a copy of the Irish times, and with the other he was pushing a gleaming and elegant bicycle and holding a second pint of stout.

“Brian O’Nolan, is that you?!” Asked Enrico with great excitement.

“You can call me that name if you like, and if you do my bicycle and I would have no objection to it. But let’s not talk about my personal business. I am immigration control for Air-Q, which you might recall is a quark located in an atom in a sheep dogs head in the complicsmicalated town known as Strabane. I am also the acting consular officer for all Irelands on the geographic scale governed by the laws of string theory. These are the Irelands that are too small to represent with basic quantum mechanics. This in effect means that I am the voice of “the Whest” with regards to all their external relations with other states. If you satisfy my mind you will have a down hill battle getting your foot out of the fridge. But if you loose my vote on the leprechaun council you will have your foot in that fridge for life. Do you hear me?”

“Yes Mr O’Nolan, I hear you”

“I have quite a few bones to pick with you lad: all your characters are stolen, not to mention your settings, and the general gist of your pocket novel called the state that I am in. The interrogation scenes, the quantum atomical theory, the impression of writing whilst drunk, the gentle yet kind mockery of the Irish language, everything is stolen from me? And not only stolen but stolen poorly! Can you explain that to my bicycle?” Said Paddy-Q before taking a long draught of his stout and patting the bicycle with his other hand.

“But, but, officer, it’s not your quantum mechanical string theory? James Joy…’

“STOOOPPPP!” Roared immigration official Q. “How dare you, how dare you say that name to me! Why does everyone have to mention him every single time they talk to or about me!” Said O’Nolan, visibly distressed and foaming slightly in the corner of his mouth. He slowly took a napkin from his pocket and dapping away the speck of foam he said. “You have lost my vote, and raised my ire with your response”

“Oh, crap, Oh I’m sorry officer I wasn;t thinking, I have legitimate responses and I want to share them, I am sorry that I nearly said James Joy…”

“SHHTTTTOOOOOOOPPPPPP!” roared O’Nolan again. “Paddy-O, this man is guilty of treason against the state of Air Q and against all Irelands that are smaller than quarks. The usual penalty would be death but a diplomatic cable instructs me to be lenient on him. For that reason I want for you to take his right hand. It is a foreign national of the British state, and has no place here in Air-O. Put his hand in the freezer which has ‘by appointmet to her majesty the Queen’ stamped on it. Then it can become red, like the hand of Ulster”

“No no please don’t cried Enrico. The red hand was originally a Gaelic symbol anyway! And I’m not even from Ulster, that’s you Flann O Brien, you are the one from Ulster! I me-shelf I am a Dingle-Dangle secessionist, and a quantum theorist. All I wanted to do was stir up the quarks so that I could create a quantum soup and use it to time travel to another multiverse where there is another me who is better at relationships - like in the Aidan Moffat song, do you know that one? - you could travel back too and recover that book you wrote in Irish – the greatest pocket novel ever written by a human hand.

“How do you know about the book?” Asked O’Brian/O’Nolan looking momentarily stunned. "Nevermind my bitterness about the book is too much for me to bear or revisit, it was p-p-poorly written anyway, and your multiverse time travelling strategy is not convincing.”

O Nolan walked up to Enrico and held him by the right arm he closed his eyes and began to speak in a low and solemn tone: “ We place the cause of the Irish Republic under the protection of the Most High God, Whose blessing we invoke upon our arms, and we pray that no one who serves that cause will dishonour it by cowardice, inhumanity, or rapine. In this supreme hour the Irish nation must, by its valour and discipline, and by the readiness of its children to sacrifice themselves for the common good, prove itself worthy of the august destiny to which it is called – Your right arm is an invasion of our national right which we will never tolerate, and we demand the evacuation of our country by this arm: put your hand in the freezer!! Now!!”

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And so it came to pass that only two leprechauns in and the game was nearly up already. Enrico himself was labeled as some kind of homophobe/idiot, his left foot an undesirable refugee from an unrecognized secessionist state, and his right hand an agent of colonialist oppression. Sorting out the paperwork for that was going to be challenging to put it mildly. His medium term goal had to be to convince the next leprechaun to plug the fridges out. Otherwise he would likely lose his red hand of Ulster and possibly his left foot.

Paddy-O strode forwards cocky as ever, and addressed Enrico. “Well, hows dat for you now, are you happy now? I have two Canadian leprechauns over here that want to fight you, or lets be serious there is no fight, what I mean to say is that there are two lads here looking for a dummy to practice their MMA moves on. Then there’s a whole bunch of Chinese leprechauns if you’d care to face that, and a passive aggressive Taiwanese overseas returnee one too for good measure, make no bones about it those boys are going to be far worse than the Canadians. We also have Michael D Higgins, a tinker from Wexford, an ex UVF turned redemptorist preach…” at that moment a phone started ringing, and a voice called from the darkness. “@mad_masala is in trouble and needs urgent help, bring out the Catalonian Leprechaun!”.

“Well I guess the decision is made for you then, do you speak Cat Lick yourshelf Mr Enrico?”

Enrico did not have time to reply when a very small leprechaun walked forwards out of the shadows. “Ba ba!?, Ba ba, I am a Catalonian right?”

“Yes, you are Catalonian replied Enrico”

“I am Chinese and I am Catalonian, I have two countries, mused the little leprechaun”

Ba ba! Let me tell you something, the high speed rail in Catalonia is very super doper fast. It is faster than the Shanghai and the Japanese High speed rails.”

“Yes son, yes that is true, although do bear in mind that there is no highspeed rail on our Catalonian Island of Sardinia”

“Ba ba, Let me tell you something, Catalonian pizza is extremely delicious, more delicious than Italian Pizza, and Catalonian people are not afraid of the rain and sometimes wear flip flops outside the house, I know because I am Catalonian, also Catalonian people do not necessarily have to peel their apples before eating them, they also eat the skin too, although they do not eat the pips, Daddy you are Catalonian too?”

“Yes yes son, shhhhh, don’t tell the other leprechauns’ about that please”

“Ba ba, why is your hand and your foot in the fridge, and why are you standing here in the kitchen all by yourself in the middle of the night?”

“Son its…”

“Ba ba, let me tell you something, your brain is very very large, very large, you have already completed xiao ban and zhong ban, and Da ban, and you have graduated to elementary school, and onwards to highschool, and you have even completed University which is a very very big kindergarten. You are grown up. However you should not spend too much time on the computer. Daddy you have muscles and you are very strong. Lets go outside, perhaps we can go swimming or riding on the bicycles. Also in Catalonia we have a car, we should go to Catalonia now and visit your mummy and daddy there.”

“Son, I, need a visa for my foot and for my hand, but I think that you can help me. Plug out the fridges, then I will see if I can maneuver the fridges out of the kitchen, that might be enough to break the spell of the carrageen sandwich which has fallen upon us and lead to our inconvenient beurocratic sitation”

“Daddy what is “inconvenient beurocratic?”

“Son I really don’t know, I can’t even spell those words myself. But if you can help me to unplug the fridges I might be able to take you outside”

The Catalonian leprechaun walked over and pulled on the chord, unplugging the freezer. Then he was about to unplug the fridge. However at that moment the rastafarmarian man who looks like the Donald saw what was happening and began to shout.

“Detain this leprechaun for illegal migration” he roared pointing at the little boy. “Put him in the detention centre!” Paddy-O stepped forward, and looking sad and guilty he picked up the little boy and carried him to what looked like a child’s play pen, inside were several babies crying Ma ma? Dad dad dad? And toys scattered around them. He put the Catalonian leprechaun in the pen and he too immediately started to cry.

In that moment of searing pain Enrico had a profound realization. All of the leprechauns’ were weighted down with shame at what was happening. Were they in some way living in fear of the Rastafarmarian with the 45 swastica? The constant repression? And heavy handed modding decisions? A revolution might be possible!? Perhaps the time for Catalonia to break forth and strike for its own glorious nation was finally at hand?


Paddy-O stepped forwards clapping frantically – and ironically – with one hand. “I am sorry he said, but all the leprechauns are sick of your pocket novel and have better things to do with their time, so I will allow you one more interview with immigration before we make our final decision. Who is it going to be, President Higgins or the Pecker Dunne, who is your only man?"

“No disrespect to Mr Higgin’s who is an upstanding leprechaun of the highest moral quality, and I know that he keeps a candle in the Aras for the Diaspora, and that his candle might be able to defrost my hand and foot, however I could not under any circumstances miss the opportunity to speak to the Pecker Dunne”

“So be it”, said Paddy-O “Pecker! Are you there Pecker?”

There was the sound of a galloping horse in the distance approaching closer and closer and then the Pecker himself came through the door on the back of a horse waving a shillelagh over his head.

“Me name it is Paddy!” He shouted “But I’m called Pecker Dunne! Did one of yous boys call for me?”

Enrico looked up in awe at the Pecker on the back of the horse. “Pecker can you get me out of the fridges and can you get my son out of the detention centre, can you use your tinker magic to save us?”

“I’ll honor friends with all me heart Enrico, do for them what I can, are you a friend of the Pecker?”

Enrico paused in silence for a moment, and then he started to sing:

“Me father was a piper, and I’m a piper too, and though I often felt his fist sure he taught me all he knew, I know I’ll never be as good, and yet I feel no shame, for the other things me father taught I am proud to bear his name”

At this point Pecker pulled out a banjo and joined in the song:

“He taught me pride and how to live, though the road be hard and long, and how a man will never starve with a banjo fiddle or song, and how to fight for what I own, and what I know is right, and how to camp besides a ditch on a stormy winter night”

At that point the Pecker swung down off his horse.

“That’s good enough for me Enrico boy, you have won the help of the Pecker, there’s two of us in this now. But let me tell you, you have only yourself to blame for this entire situation. Didn’t your father ever teach you that travelers have no use of visas or passports or nationalities of any shape or form? The only land you own is in your own hand lad, roam free, think outside of the fridge my man!”

The Pecker opened a bag of tools and began tinkering with the fridge.

“I cannot disrespect the wishes of Mr O’Nolan so your hand and feet must stay in the fridges for the moment, however I will reverse engineer them into the shape of a shoe and a glove. Then once you are outside the state you can remove them. Do you know that there is an Air-Q consulate in Phuket, and the immigration leprechauns’ there are very relaxed due to the climate. Go there with your family, take some time on the beach, and stop stressing yourself out about Air-ah.

“And let me give you another tip lad, when you are headed to the airport don’t take the Airport MRT it takes an eternity, instead take the high speed rail to Taoyuan and then get the MRT back three stops, its way faster. Either that or just get a cab. The bus isn’t too bad either though depending on Traffic.”

“What are you talking about Pecker, we are in Air-O, right?”

“Shut up you bollocks" qipped back the Pecker, "the state that you are in is Taiwan! Now back up on the road with ya bye!”

With that Enrico jumped to his feet and grabbed the wee Catalonian Leprachaun from the detention centre. “Say thank you to the Pecker Dunne!!” Lets go! Phuket, Thailand it is!