Chapter 2 Get the Beers in

Here’s Post 2 of 8 in the BigSaltyDog political comedy series! 🍻 This one introduces the party manifesto, with plenty of Misfits madness, fresh jokes, a strong finish, and the SEO details ready for Blogger.

The Manifesto That Nobody Read — Stg. Salty's Plan to Save Ireland!

Ireland has seen some unusual political promises over the years, but none quite like the ones Stg. Salty was about to unleash.

The Get the Beers In Party had officially arrived, and thanks to Dinkz posting a photograph online, the movement was already attracting attention.

Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to write down what the party actually stood for.

This was beginning to concern Big Al, who had been trying to prepare a budget based on a starting fund of €47.60, two packets of biscuits and a jam jar full of loose change.

"We need a manifesto," he announced at Misfits HQ. "Something people can read. Something that explains our policies. Something that tells the public what we're actually going to do."

Stg. Salty leaned back in his chair.

"Big Al, you're overcomplicating things. The people want honesty, common sense and somebody who understands the price of a pint."

"They might also want to know your position on housing, transport, healthcare and education."

"Of course they do! Put them on the list."

"Which list?"

"The list of things we're going to sort out."

Big Al stared at him.

"Have you any idea how government works?"

Salty took a sip from his mug.

"Not entirely, but I have watched the news."

That, apparently, was enough to get the project underway.

The Great Manifesto Meeting

The Misfits assembled around the conference table. Quags arrived with a notebook, McFinleyyy brought a map covered in mysterious lines, and Ye Olde Large Lad appeared carrying a folder marked National Security — Do Not Leave Lying Around.

The Govna arrived last, proudly carrying a freshly printed document.

"I've prepared the manifesto," he announced.

Everyone looked impressed.

Salty took the pages and began reading.

Page One: The Get the Beers In Party will get the beers in.

Page Two: The party will make sure the beers are properly chilled.

Page Three: Any meeting discussing the first two pages must include biscuits.

Salty slowly lowered the document.

"Govna, this is magnificent."

"It's a draft," the Govna replied modestly.

"It's three pages about beer and biscuits!"

"Four pages, actually. There's a cover sheet."

Lucy rubbed her forehead.

"We need serious policies. Education, training, schools, opportunities for young people. People need to know what we're offering."

"Absolutely," said Salty. "Every child should have access to a decent education, good teachers and the opportunity to succeed."

Lucy nodded, pleasantly surprised.

"That's actually a good starting point."

"And every school should have a working kettle in the staffroom."

Lucy closed her notebook.

"We'll discuss the kettle later."

"That's the trouble with politics," Salty muttered. "You try to improve one thing, and suddenly somebody wants to discuss it."

Quags Takes on the World

Quags had volunteered to draft the foreign affairs section, although nobody was entirely certain what qualified him for the job.

"I've travelled," he explained.

"Where?" asked Susan.

"To Spain."

"Anywhere else?"

"The airport in Spain."

Salty nodded thoughtfully.

"International experience. I like it."

Quags cleared his throat and read his proposal.

"The Get the Beers In Party will maintain friendly relations with other countries, encourage sensible cooperation, and make sure Ireland is treated with respect."

There was a brief silence.

"That's actually quite reasonable," Sarah said.

"Thank you," Quags replied. "I've also suggested that international meetings should finish at a reasonable hour."

"Why?" asked John Daniels.

"Because there's no point discussing world affairs when everyone's tired and cranky."

Salty pointed at him.

"That's leadership, Quags. The world's got enough problems without people making important decisions when they should be in bed."

Quags turned the page.

"I've also included a proposal for improved international cultural exchanges."

"What does that mean?" asked McFinleyyy.

"People visiting other countries and learning about them."

"Oh. I thought you meant swapping passports."

"No, McFinleyyy."

"Good. That would create paperwork."

At least one international crisis had been avoided.

McFinleyyy Solves Housing and Transport

Next came McFinleyyy, who had been working on housing and transport.

He unfolded his map across the table.

Salty stared at it.

"Why does that road go through the sea?"

"Future infrastructure."

"Why is there a railway line running through a housing estate?"

"Efficient transport links."

"And what's this enormous circle in the middle of Dublin?"

McFinleyyy smiled proudly.

"The National Roundabout."

Nobody spoke.

"It'll have seventeen exits," he continued. "Traffic will flow beautifully."

"Where will the traffic go?" asked Sarah.

"That's the beauty of it. Nobody will know, so nobody will be able to complain about being late."

Salty considered the idea for a moment.

"No. We need sensible housing policies, affordable homes and better transport connections. People shouldn't have to spend their lives waiting for a bus or searching for somewhere they can afford to live."

McFinleyyy looked disappointed.

"What about the roundabout?"

"Put it on the back of the map."

"That's where I've drawn the underground motorway."

"Then we'll need a bigger map."

For once, the room agreed on something: the country probably wasn't ready for McFinleyyy's transport revolution.

## Ye Olde Large Lad Declares a Matter of Defence

Ye Olde Large Lad stood up and opened his folder.

"As Minister for Defence, I believe the country needs proper planning, reliable equipment and people who know what they're doing."

"Excellent," said Salty. "Very sensible."

"We should also have emergency supplies, clear procedures and a plan for unexpected situations."

The Govna raised his hand.

"Does that include a power cut?"

"Yes."

"What about a broken kettle?"

Ye Olde Large Lad paused.

"Within reason."

"And a shortage of biscuits?"

"That's not a defence matter."

"Not with that attitude," the Govna replied.

Salty stepped between them before the discussion escalated into a national biscuit emergency.

"Defence is important. We need to take security seriously, support the people doing the job and make sure plans are properly thought through."

Ye Olde Large Lad nodded.

"Agreed."

"Good. And nobody is allowed to buy a tank without asking Big Al first."

From the other end of the table, Big Al looked up sharply.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"Because you have the calculator."

Big Al made a note to hide it.

## The Finance Minister Has a Terrible Afternoon

Big Al's turn had finally arrived.

He placed his calculator on the table and announced that the party needed a realistic financial plan.

"Every promise costs money," he explained. "If we want better services, improved transport and more housing, we have to explain how we're going to pay for them."

Salty nodded solemnly.

"Of course."

"So I need a complete list of your proposals."

"Easy."

Salty began counting on his fingers.

"Better housing. Better roads. Better public services. Better education. Better opportunities. Less waste. More common sense."

Big Al entered the figures into his calculator.

"Fine. Now tell me how much each one will cost."

Salty stopped counting.

"That's your department."

Big Al took a deep breath.

"And where will the money come from?"

"The budget."

"Which money in the budget?"

"The money we raise."

"How will we raise it?"

Salty leaned forward.

"Big Al, if I knew all the answers, I wouldn't need a Finance Minister."

Big Al put down the calculator.

"At this rate, we'll be bankrupt before the first election poster goes up."

Captain Morgan, who had been listening quietly, offered a suggestion.

"We could hold a fundraising night."

"That might work," said John Daniels.

"Excellent," said Salty. "Organise it."

"Where?"

"A suitable venue."

"When?"

"An appropriate date."

"And what are we selling?"

Salty looked around the table.

"Tickets, John. We're selling tickets."

John wrote that down, apparently relieved to have received at least one concrete instruction.

The Final Manifesto

After several hours of debate, two cups of tea, a minor disagreement about the spelling of *infrastructure*, and a spirited discussion about whether the party should have its own official sandwich, the manifesto was finally ready.

Dinkz typed it up. Lucy checked the education section. Sarah and Susan tidied the wording. Purty added a reminder that public wellbeing mattered. The Stig insisted that sport and recreation should receive proper attention, while Whizzley attempted to insert a promise of cheaper flights.

Squalshyyy added a section about rural communities and agriculture. Baz wanted fair treatment for workers. John Daniels included support for small businesses. Captain Morgan proposed promoting Ireland as a place to visit, and the Govna insisted that the biscuits clause remain in the appendix.

At last, Salty stood up with the finished document.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our manifesto!"

The Misfits applauded.

"Now," said Salty, "we need to make sure the public can read it."

Dinkz nodded. "I'll put it online."

"How long is it?" asked Quags.

"Forty-three pages."

The room went quiet.

"Forty-three?" Salty repeated.

"That includes the cover, contents, appendices and the Govna's biscuits clause."

Salty stared at the document as though it had personally betrayed him.

"Nobody is reading forty-three pages."

"People need details," Lucy pointed out.

"Then we'll give them details," Salty replied. "But first, we need a shorter version."

Big Al sighed.

"How short?"

Salty took the document, turned it over and wrote in enormous letters:

A FAIRER IRELAND. BETTER SERVICES. COMMON SENSE. AND GET THE BEERS IN.

He held it up.

"That's our summary."

Sarah examined it.

"It's catchy."

Susan nodded. "People might actually remember it."

Quags smiled. "And it's only one line."

Salty beamed.

"Exactly. Why use forty-three pages when one sentence will do?"

Big Al looked as though he might need to sit down.

The party had finally produced a manifesto. Whether it was practical, affordable or capable of surviving contact with reality remained to be seen.

But one thing was certain: the Get the Beers In Party had discovered its greatest political talent.

It could turn any complicated issue into a short slogan.

And if the country wanted the details, well, there was always the appendix.

Next time:Stg. Salty unveils his new cabinet, assigning the biggest jobs in Ireland to the most questionable collection of Misfits ever assembled. Quags gets foreign affairs, McFinleyyy gets housing and transport, and Ye Olde Large Lad gets defence. What could possibly go wrong?

*Get the beers in! 🍻