The Anals of Ballyturdeen
About the book…
Ireland is the place God set aside for satirists. Elsewhere, when people speak of history 'repeating itself' they mean in millennia, centuries, or, at least, decades. In the council chamber of John Morrow's Ballyturdeen (literal translation 'townland of the little turds'), however, history is regurgitated weekly with all the muzzle velocity of an unhealthy bowel movement. There, where the standard bearers of Ireland's two traditions have never in living memory managed to progress beyond the first item on any agenda without resorting to Grievous Bodily Harm.
‘Humour,’ writes P.J. O'Rourke, ‘has nothing to do with the charming or the cheerful...Humour is our response to the void of absurdity.’
In The Anals of Ballyturdeen, absurdity is voided in copious quantities.