Minister Jim Daly has suggested social media users hand over passport or public service card details to sign up to Facebook
Internet Safety For Adults
When Her Majesty squiggles my law into effect,
it will be compulsory that every computer come
with a paedophile pre-installed.
Section four of the proposed legislation
will make it mandatory that said individual
only be activated when your child types
in his or her date of birth and a verifiable
I.D. card number which I, as Minister
for Children, will provide for each of them
free of charge. From this day forth your sons and daughters
will no longer have to haunt
local playgrounds in the hope of being accosted
by men enthusiastic to open
the all-encompassing grey coats
their type travel the land in.
Worry not, the frothing men (and occasional women)
the tech giants will, from now on, be compelled
to put inside every computer in the country
will be tested to ensure they have no interest in adults.
Obese chain-smoking blokes from near Stoke
and the sort of women whose implausibly
distended chests one notices
at post-night club bus-stops in Bishop’s Stortford
will be in no danger whatsoever.
The people to whom we plan to introduce your children
have no appetite for mutton, or dry aged sirloin;
only eat choice cut spring lamb
done exquisitely rare.
Rollingnews
he reminds me of Opie (the fella who ends up in charge of Peter Griffin at the brewery)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BoJSbyq5xw
Arrogant bombastic attention seeking fool.
This guy’s a real creeping Jesus.
A grade A moron.
It’s hardly a big shock that a member of the FG party would exhibit authoritarian tendencies.
+1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2.
Sure you can’t use the Public Services Card for anything other than Social Welfare.
Does he look for those things too when he’s arranging queue jumping for health services? The people of Bindon must be questioning themselves as to why they elected such a gobdaw.
Blueshirts gona blueshirt.
Why is there an Irish minister over a poem about Britain? Am I missing something?
Nothing rhymes.
Kevin’s poems are poo.