Month: June 2020

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It’s not unusual to see reports from the courts of criminals receiving lenient sentences despite having a long history of criminality. Habitual offenders with lengthy lists of previous convictions getting a smack on the wrist. It’s the kind of thing that drives most people nuts. 

It’s also soul destroying for the investigating gardai who regularly invest a lot of time and effort into getting an accused before the court in the first place. Criminal investigations are complicated and time consuming.

Gathering and evaluating evidence from the scene of a crime is a specialised, scientific process. Taking statements from injured parties and witnesses, questioning suspects, making arrests and organising charges all takes time. It also involves a considerable volume of paper.

The reward for the efforts of the investigating officers is a successful prosecution and a spell behind bars for the culprits. But there are many examples of habitual criminals receiving sentences that seem incompatible with their record of illegal activity.

Defence lawyers often make a standard case for leniency. Their client has a long history of criminality but it’s not his fault. He’s had a tough life and just fell in with the wrong people. Family was dysfunctional and gave him no support, so he never had a chance.

He developed issues with alcohol and drugs, but the good news is he’s making a valiant effort to turn his life around. He’s moved away from the area and has disassociated himself from the bad influences in his life. He’s attending rehab for substance abuse and is in a committed relationship.

He is determined to become a better person. He apologises for the hurt caused and wishes to express his profound regret at his behaviour.

The defendant may even shed a tear, the cynic might say for effect, and that’s it. The tried and tested formula for getting a clip around the ear. Tell a sob story, express remorse, give an undertaking to become a better person and Bob’s your uncle. He might be back on the street before the ink is dry on his prison tattoo.

So how many chances should a persistent offender be entitled to before he can reasonably expect to have the book thrown at him? Quite a few apparently.

Liam Heylin had a story in The Echo about a couple in their 90s who returned home to find an intruder had smashed his way in through a bedroom window. The house was not ransacked but it had been disturbed by the intruder and a bloodstained towel left at the scene. The burglar cut himself while smashing the window and getting into the house.

The culprit was caught and was jailed at Cork District Court for 10 months in respect of this burglary. He also received two six-month sentences for other burglaries, but they were made consecutive to the 10 months, leaving him with a total jail term of 16 months. He had 128 previous convictions including 38 counts for carrying out burglaries and five for theft.

His solicitor, seeking leniency, told the judge that his client had pleaded guilty to the burglaries at the earliest opportunity and cooperated with the garda investigation. That sounded good but in reality, he didn’t have much choice. As well as the DNA match, there was video evidence from a neighbour’s CCTV so there was no point in trying to deny it.

He previously turned up at the home of a woman in her 70s. The householder returned home to find someone had broken in through a kitchen window and stolen €1,000 worth of jewellery. The woman lived alone in the house. The judge said it was awful that a person of this age had to deal with something like that at this stage in her life.

It was awful but the sentences he received previously didn’t act as much of a deterrent as evidenced by his long list of convictions.

Liam also reported on another case where a woman caught handling stolen property received a jail term of eight months. It wasn’t her first time before a judge either. She had 193 previous convictions, two for handling stolen property and 43 for theft and one was for robbery.

In 2019 she received an eighteen-month sentence for multiple thefts and was due to complete that sentence in December 2020. However, on March 2^nd 2020, nine months before that end of that sentence, she was out again.

Not only was she free, but she was back in front of the judge again where she received another six-month sentence. But incredibly, just six weeks later she was free again on temporary release and in front of a judge once more. This time the judge imposed an eight-month sentence on the charge of handling stolen property.

So, she has been returned to prison to complete her original eighteen-month sentence which will be completed with remission, by December 2020 and the new eight months she got won’t increase her time in custody.

Her solicitor said she was doing quite well in prison which surprised me given that she seems to spend so little time there.

In another case, a seven-month jail term was imposed on a Dubliner who went to a house party in Cork and then broke into a car belonging to a pharmacist. He was caught red-handed, sitting in it. A window of the car had been smashed and the culprit pleaded guilty to taking the car without permission, interfering with it and causing criminal damage.

He had 161 previous convictions. In his defence, the court was told that he left the country to get away from people. He was addicted to drink and tablets but got clean until he went to a party and took drink again. He can’t remember what happened he was so intoxicated but apologised for his behaviour.

Sound familiar?

At the beginning of the year, like many of you, I made plans for the summer holidays. I was looking forward to spending some time abroad, lying on a sun lounger in my mankini with a cool gin and tonic while transforming into a bronzed Adonis.

Those plans have been well and truly scuppered by the Coronavirus and many will be disappointed at not having the opportunity to admire my tanned physique strutting around the beach but there you go. We’ll all just have to be patient for a little while longer.

In the general scheme of things, foreign holidays are a minor issue. Some have more serious things to occupy their minds like losing friends and relatives to the virus or losing their jobs. Some companies have closed their doors for good and for many more, the future is uncertain. As far as they’re concerned, holidays are the furthest thing from their minds.

There is a push though, to get the economy going again and we are being encouraged to holiday at home for what’s left of the summer to keep the money circulating locally. Staycations are the order of the day. Many do that anyway and I know lots of people who own holiday homes, caravans, and mobile homes around Ireland, and they wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else and that’s fine.

For more of us, the prospect of life in the sun is what keeps us going through the dreary winters and after everything we’ve been through over the last three months, we’re chomping at the bit to get away. I can only imagine what it must be like for all those wonderful people who soldiered on since March without a break.

If anyone deserves a holiday it’s the health service personnel, the emergency services, postal workers, and all those who provided essential services. The men and women who kept the shelves stacked in the shops and manned the tills day in and day out, risking their own health on a daily basis while the rest of us kept our heads down. They have earned some rest and recuperation but where will they get it? 

My wife has a significant birthday coming up soon and to mark the occasion, we had arranged to travel abroad for the month of July. Our flights have just been cancelled so that’s been knocked on the head. That’s OK though because for now, the fear of getting on a plane is very real. Crowded airports, security checks, mixing with other passengers in a metal tube for hours on end breathing recycled air is an issue for many travellers.

So, staycations are an option. Shops, pubs, hotels, and restaurants have suffered badly over the last few months. Some won’t re- open and for others the recovery will be slow and difficult, and we’re being encouraged to support them and while they certainly deserve our support, it shouldn’t be taken for granted either.

Newstalk radio recently conducted a poll on where people are likely to holiday this summer. Fifty-one per cent said they would holiday in Ireland. I think around thirty per cent said they would travel abroad, and the remainder said they would save their money for a decent trip away next year.

From my own discussions with people, I suspect that last option is gathering momentum. Good weather is a firm favourite with holiday makers and that’s one thing you can’t be guaranteed in this country but it’s not a deal breaker for everyone but value for money is a major factor.

Holidaying in Ireland is not, and never has been, cheap. Your average Joe and Josephine Soap expect value for money, and they’re entitled to it, but will they get it here? I chose a week in July and searched for a hotel in Killarney, Co. Kerry for two people. There were plenty of options ranging in price from €904 to €1473 and that wasn’t including breakfast.

When you add the cost of food and drinks to your hotel bill, you’ve paid a hefty price for your week away but according to the Newstalk poll, half of us are prepared to do just that. I won’t be surprised though if that changes when people start checking prices.

I looked at a foreign holiday option for two people and I picked Cyprus simply because it’s a place I’m familiar with. I used the same dates in July and settled on Larnaca. The weather there is hot at that time of the year and as Cyprus has an average of three hundred and something days of sunshine a year, you can bank on a rain free week.

I selected three hotels on the beach outside Larnaca a three star, a four star and a five star. The three star was €813 or €1113 with breakfast and dinner. The four star was €1148 and the five star was €1197 and both included breakfast.

Airbnb is another option in Larnaca with a selection of good standard accommodation ranging from between €200 and €300 per week. Your money will go a long way when eating out and alcohol is cheaper too and return flights to Paphos in July are available for under €200 per person.

The point I’m making here is that if those involved in the hotel/tourism industry expect customers to holiday at home, they have to offer value for money. The promise of a cead mile failte simply isn’t enough.

The foreign option involves travel and at the moment that may be a step too far for many and that’s where I can see a lot of soul searching but unless customers feel they are getting value for money at home, they may abandon the staycation in favour of a decent splash out abroad next year instead.

• 

I saw a programme on TV recently about a guy who had a serious problem with hoarding. He basically turned his house into a skip. There wasn’t one square inch of floor space visible and to get from one room to the other, he had to climb over piles and piles of rubbish. There were some rooms he couldn’t even get into. It was disturbing.

His bed was covered in so much rubbish that he had barely enough space to lie down on at night.  The kitchen was completely unusable, so he was surviving on fast food and the remains of the food, and the containers it arrived in, were strewn about the floors.

There were creatures living there too. The house was alive with cockroaches, flies and bluebottles and there were droppings from rodents scattered around the place. It was hard to watch.

There was a happy ending of sorts though when the house was made fit for human habitation again by a team of volunteers, supervised by professionals, who removed tons of waste and gave the place a good clean. How long it will stay like that remains to be seen.

According to the Mayo Clinic in America, a hoarding disorder is a persistent difficulty discarding or parting with possessions because of a perceived need to save them. A person with a hoarding disorder experiences distress at the thought of getting rid of the items, so excessive accumulation of items, regardless of actual value, occurs.

Hoarding often creates such cramped living conditions that homes may be filled to capacity, with only narrow pathways winding through stacks of clutter. Countertops, sinks, stoves, desks, stairways and virtually all other surfaces are usually piled with stuff. And when there’s no more room inside, the clutter may spread to the garage, vehicles, yard and other storage facilities.

Hoarding ranges in severity and in some cases, it may not have much impact on your life, while in other cases it seriously affects your functioning on a daily basis. There are five stages with five being the most severe form.

Apparently, most of us have a messy room or two. Laundry unfolded, paperwork stacked on the desk, some clutter and a bit of mess are a normal part of life and that’s OK according to the professionals. However, there is a point where the mess gets out of hand and becomes a problem and that got me thinking.

My house has stuff. I call it stuff because the term covers a multitude. Since we started our lock-down I’ve been doing some painting and I keep finding stuff. I’m constantly moving stuff out of my way and no matter where I put it, it always manages to get in my way again. It never goes away.

Some of the stuff that lies around the house is unnecessary and has outlived its usefulness. It has no specific function and most of it could be reasonably described as rubbish.

I suspect every house has stuff that belongs in a skip but has never make it that far for one reason or another. It might even be broken but sentimental value saves it from the bin. You can’t remember where it came from or how it got into the house in the first place, but it should be gone.

Instead, it’s put to one side until there is a clean-up and then it’s moved to a temporary holding station in a back room and when that room is due for a tidy up  the stuff is moved upstairs to a semi- permanent spot in the spare bedroom.

After doing its purgatory there, the stuff eventually finds a more permanent home in the attic or out in the shed where it will continue to create clutter and get in the way for the rest of your natural life.

There are a few small ceramic bowls in our kitchen that I think are used for baking, but we don’t bake much so they are really surplus to requirements. They don’t have their own designated space, so they’re kind of nomadic. They spend their time lazing around on various surfaces, so I often put them in the oven out of the way, but they always escape.

We are in a particularly dangerous phase at the moment because my late mother-in-law’s house is being readied for sale so extra stuff is appearing in our place. We recently inherited some extra drinking mugs. We have a cupboard bursting at the seams with cups and mugs, so we don’t need anymore, but still they come.

I have a small office downstairs but it’s becoming very clear that I am the only one who thinks of it as an office. Everyone else is of the opinion that it’s just a junk room which is why I share that space with a heap of coats, gear bags, tennis racquets, spare parts and other stuff.

I have a desk in there too and when I started out, there were six drawers in it. It still has six, but I have only access to one of them. The rest are full of small stuff and it’s a constant battle to retain control of my bit. I’m being squeezed out. Stage one hoarding has begun.

At stage five, individuals may not be able to live in their own home. They may also discharge waste into nontoilet receptacles and keep them in the home.

It can also include such characteristics as severe structural damage to the home, broken walls, fire hazards throughout the home, no electricity or running water, clutter on every surface, most of or the entire home becomes inaccessible.

I feel a little weakness coming on. I’m going for a lie down while I still have a bit of space on the bed.

• 

There was a time when my idea of inconvenience was getting stuck behind a slow-moving tractor on the way to meet my buddy in Ballyseedy for a coffee. Or not being able to get a seat at the counter in my local pub.

Extreme inconvenience was when visitors called to the house just as Liverpool were about to kick off on the TV with me in my recliner, beer in hand. That’s not an issue now because we have neither visitors nor football but thankfully, we’re OK for the beer.

But now, we’re all learning what inconvenience is really about. We’ve been put out before of course with a few troublesome storms. A fallen tree blocking the road was inconvenient. Being without electricity for a few hours was more inconvenient but having no access to the Internet brought inconvenience to a new level.

I was caught in an airport in Edinburgh for one of those storms and my flight was delayed for seven hours and that was the end of the world. Things just couldn’t get any worse than that, it was inconvenience on a grand scale.

That was then, before we discovered the true meaning of inconvenience. Now most of us would gladly swop Covid 19 for a bit of wind and rain because the virus has brought us to a level of inconvenience, we hadn’t even thought possible.  

It’s not over yet and we won’t be really free of this virus until someone comes up with a vaccine. Even then, our new-found inconvenience may never completely leave us. So, what do we do? Do we learn to accept that, or do we try to change our circumstances? I reckon we should try to turn the odds more in our favour and I think I may have found a way of doing that.

If you talk to older people, even older than me, they will tell you of the warmer summers we had long ago. Summers that lasted longer and seasons that were more predictable and more defined. As a child I remember spending all day, every day, playing outside with my friends in good weather during the summer holidays. We only came inside to go to bed.

Those days have been replaced with severe storms, global warming and pandemics and that just didn’t happen by accident. It happened because we haven’t been paying attention to the Gods. I suspect they’re angry with us because we’ve been neglecting them, so they’re punishing us. They’re annoyed and it’s hard to blame them.

When was the last time we offered up a human sacrifice to the gods in this country? Cobh certainly hasn’t made any offerings during my lifetime and we need to rectify that if we expect to get them on side. Look at the evidence.

To the Aztecs, human sacrifice was a matter of survival. They believed the sun god Huitzilopochtli was waging a constant war against darkness, and if the darkness won, the world would end. To keep the sun moving across the sky and preserve their existence, the Aztecs had to feed Huitzilopochtli with human hearts and blood.

They also practiced a form of ritual cannibalism, but I propose that we skip that bit. I’m partial to a bit of meat but I draw the line at eating my neighbours.

In 2018 archaeologists working at the Templo Mayor excavation site in Mexico discovered proof of widespread human sacrifice among the Aztecs and found skull towers and skull racks. Prisoners and slaves were often used as human sacrifices and their skulls were hung on large poles on the outskirts of the town to ward off unwanted guests.

I suspect a few seaside towns here came close to using this tactic in recent times.

Some archaeologists believe that a game of ball would sometimes end with members of the losing team being sacrificed. Evidence for these sacrifices is mainly found in depictions of Maya art. Introducing that to the Premiership would raise the viewing figures.  

So, human sacrifice occupied a particularly important place in many cultures, because of the belief that they nourished the gods. Without them, the sun would cease to rise, and the world would end, so sacrificial victims earned a special, honoured place in the afterlife.

Closer to home, the skeleton of a man found buried in a ditch at Stonehenge has been interpreted by Jacqueline McKinley, an osteoarchaeologist, as a sacrificial victim. The man, who was 5 foot 10 inches and had a robust muscular build, was shot repeatedly with arrows. McKinley believes he was killed as part of a human sacrifice.

Women didn’t have it easy back in the day either. In Fiji, when a woman became a widow, she was strangled because a deceased husband was buried with his wife. In the case of great chiefs, their deaths simultaneously brought about the demise of their various wives. These women were then used as carpet for his grave.

The Irish druids had their own ways of pleasing the gods. Samhain was an important time for druids, a time of dread and anticipation. Days got shorter and nights got longer, a sign that nature’s decay was about to begin, and any crops left out after November 1st could be spoiled by the Fairies. Food was offered to the gods and the dead.

That makes complete sense. That’s why the weather was better, and we were all safer. The gods were happy and content so if we want to improve our circumstances, we must return to the old ways. Our first task is to place an ad in The Echo for a human sacrifice.

It will be a short-term position and pay and conditions won’t be great, but the successful applicant will be guaranteed an honoured place in the afterlife. Allegedly.

• 

Until recently, I had assumed all butlers were men. Not so apparently because according to the British Butler Institute (BBI), half of all trainee butlers are female, but in 2015 that figure was only 10 per cent.

Another interesting statistic is that roughly 70 per cent of the demand for butlers in the UK comes from non-British households, mostly Russians, Americans and those from the Middle East.

I grew up in a three-bed terraced house, so we didn’t have much need for a butler. I remember watching Hudson, the butler in Upstairs Downstairs many years ago. The kind of life he had didn’t inspire me to enter a life of service, but looking back, I think I may have lost out.

I never considered it as an occupation. No career guidance counsellor ever tried to steer me in that direction even though I’m sure there were many who suspected that was where I was headed. If I had known then what I know now though, things might have been different.

Butlers can expect to earn as much as £40,000 as a starting salary, with more experienced professionals receiving up to £150,000, along with the perks of free accommodation, meals and foreign travel. The highest-paid butler in the world, who works for a billionaire in Miami, reportedly earns £2.2 million per annum.

I could have done a good job for that kind of money and I could have been trusted with the silverware too. There are risks associated with allowing strangers into your home so it’s important to know who you are dealing with before trusting them with the family jewels.

There is a story told of a guy who worked as a butler for a wealthy family, but he was unhappy because he felt that his boss didn’t fully trust him. He approached his boss one day to hand in his notice and told him; “I am not going to serve you any longer as you don’t have any faith in me even though I have served you loyally for the past several years.”

The owner of the property denied that and insisted that he did indeed have faith in his servant and told him; “That is why I have given you all the keys of the house including the keys of the safe.”

The butler stuck to his guns though and told his boss that he was certain he didn’t trust him because he had tried to open the safe with each of the keys and none of them fit.

It’s hard to blame the boss in that case for being cagey. Not everyone who entered a life of domestic service did so for the right reasons and maybe he had heard the story of a butler called Archibald Hall. Hall was born in Glasgow in 1924 and was a petty criminal in his early years. Later, he changed his name to Ray Fontaine and became known as the Monster Butler or the Killer Butler.

As a young man, Hall was a con artist and a burglar and served his first prison sentence when he was just seventeen years old. During one lengthy sentence for theft he got rid of his strong Glasgow accent and studied social etiquette, elocution and antiques so he could fit in with the English aristocracy.

He was released from prison in 1977 and hooked up with an Irishwoman, Mary Coggle, a prostitute and barmaid also known as “Belfast Mary”. He got a job as a butler to Lady Margaret Hudson in Scotland and his plan was to steal her valuables but changed his mind when he discovered he liked his job and also liked his new boss.

Things turned sour though when a former cellmate was employed as a gamekeeper on the same estate. David Wright began stealing items from the house and threatened to blow the whistle on Hall’s past life. Hall could see trouble on the horizon so while they were out duck hunting one day, he took decisive action. He shot Wright in the back of the head and buried him in a shallow grave.

Hall was done with going straight after that, so he moved back to London and took a job as butler to Walter Scott-Elliot and his wife Dorothy and intended to rob them. Hall’s girlfriend, Mary Coggle, introduced him to a small-time crook, Michael Kitto, and he recruited him to help.

While showing Kitto, around the house they were disturbed by Mrs Scott-Elliot so the two men suffocated her with a pillow. They drugged her 82-year-old husband, put both of them in the boot of a car and set off for Scotland. They buried the dead woman by the side of a quiet road along the way while her husband was beaten to death with a spade.

Mary Coggle began wearing Mrs Scott-Elliot’s expensive clothes and jewellery and was drawing too much attention to herself. Hall considered her a liability, so she became victim number four and her body was dumped in a barn.

The two men headed for Hall’s family home in Cumbria and found his brother Donald, had been released from prison and was living there. Hall hated his brother and considered him a paedophile. He thought Donald was taking too much interest in Hall’s business so he and Kitto drowned him in the bath.

They were back on the road to Scotland again to dispose of another body but stopped at a hotel where the owner became suspicious of the two guests and called the police. The police found Donald Hall’s body in the boot of the car and the two men were arrested.

Hall confessed to the five murders and led police to the bodies. He was jailed for life and died in 2002 in Kingston Prison, Portsmouth.