Timothy O"Grady's review of Disney's Say Nothing could as easily have been titled Say Nothingness because in terms of intellectual enlightenment the reader is pulled into a void of what is best described as bottomless vacuity. Something like being anaesthetized during a surgical procedure. Upon reading it, the thought struck me:
Best for that tenebrous world to deflect light away from itself and onto the perceived source of its problem and smear them as touts. I confess to deriving immense enjoyment any time I or the Boston College archive are accused of being a touting project by Danny Morrison, even if he uses a proxy to deliver the slur.
What else is there to do but laugh? It's great for the craic as everybody gets to publicly blow raspberries at the accuser. Moreover, because Morrison has forfeited any right to the normal rules of engagement whereby even in acrimonious debate people don’t accuse each other of being informers - courtesy of his own breaching of the same rules for the purposes of smearing - I have found myself free to openly express long held deep misgivings about him.
Whether an agent of influence or not, for Morrison there is a demonstrable record of loyalty to Scappaticci and disloyalty to the hunger strikers, the first he spared, the second he spurned. What a legacy for the Wrong Man to leave, with little time left to change it.
When reading or listening to people having a go at me, I invariably find it productive if I learn something from their critique. It allows me to probe weaknesses and reflect on my own perspective, adjusting accordingly. From O'Grady's review I didn't even learn that for him I am a bit of a hate figure. That was something I had already known from an earlier foray by the same author when he reviewed the book Say Nothing. That review featured on the website of Freddie Scappaticci's Carrigart colleague Daniel Dudley Morrison, acquaintance of King Charles, I say, old bean - who described O'Grady as 'my friend.' Worryingly for O'Grady, even more than the friendship of Morrison being as pleasant as scabies - and if he is equipped with any powers of discernment - is Morrison's documented history of betraying those who believed him their friend.
Morrison relies on a worn out trick of the trade. As a well known whisper weasel and therefore lacking the credibility to make his own smears stick, he resorts to the ventriloquist tactic of having another speak smearwa for him. The next move is to cite the other as a credible source. As transparent as it is fraudulent.
I am not in the slightest angry towards O'Grady. If I was to get enraged at all my critics my days would be consumed by fury, there are so many of the fuckers. Like Jude Collins who has had many a go, he at least does not hide behind the shield of anonymity from the cover of which he can shoot his poison arrow. It is a trait I admire in my detractors. Still, anyone willing to openly proclaim that they know nothing of Gerry Adams’ involvement in the IRA is not to be taken as a serious observer of IRA affairs. On a par with claiming not to know God is in the Bible then wanting to be regarded as an earnest religious commentator.
Still, I am left wondering why people with a substantial reputation in the literary world risk jeopardising it by shilling for Dodgy Danny. While I haven't read the responses to O'Grady's piece on the Facebook page of the Andersonstown News - where his recent missive appeared - someone who did has told me that it has very much been unalloyed and uninterrupted ridicule. Even the bots, apparently, have failed to turn up to defend this one.
Ridiculous writing is a magnet for ridicule, but Morrison seems to have withheld that from O'Grady for the likely reason that he provided his 'friend' with the ridiculous smearing points. All reminiscent of a ballot box in one hand and an Armalite in somebody else’s. This becomes pretty evident when O'Grady, functioning as a Pennies proxy, accuses Brendan Hughes and Dolours Price of having become police informers. Being labelled an informer by Morrison carries all the plausibility of being labelled a paedophile by Jimmy Savile. Morrison, however, ever eager to deflect scrutiny away from himself and knowing the ridicule his allegations against people of such standing bring his way, no longer makes them, or at least not in public. When confronted at the funeral of Gerry Conlon and asked to stand over his Boston College tout allegations, he lied that he ever made any, much like he lied that he had never claimed his colleague Scappaticci had been mischievously hung out to dry by the British. Morrison understands that as ten out of nine people don't believe him about anything, best to push somebody else under the bus. O'Grady stepped up to the plate and was duly served up as convenient road kill. That is a Tim problem, not a Tony one: his, not mine, to solve.
Prompting the cultic animus against Say Nothing has been the rattling effect that first the book and then the Disney series seems to have had on the Sinn Fein establishment. The faithful will remain unmoved but the power of both to leach outside the reach of Sinn Fein thought traffic control and seep into the consciousness of those inclined to think a bit more about what they digest, causes untold problems for the Sinn Fein narrative. How to depict Sawney Bean in a sympathetic light beyond the cannibalistic cult who fed upon his victims against the backdrop of revelations in the book and drama, becomes a Herculean challenge. Not easy to flash human rights credentials or swan the stage as a statesman in the wake of that.
So strong is the whiff of suspicion that clings to Morrison - and not only because of ‘the secret annexe’ provided to the Belfast Court of Appeal, leading to his acquittal, or his collaboration with his colleague Scappaticci in a bid to suppress the Stakeknife story and cover up for the crimes of Britain's Dirty War - the only way for him to persuade people that he is not a tout is to openly admit that he is one. The response of most would be that it couldn't possibly be true, instinctively feeling, there he goes, lying again just like the rest of us breathe.
Therein lies Pennies' Paradox. It will prove as difficult to overcome as Schrodinger's Cat, and with no guarantee that from the box in which Schrodinger placed his imaginary cat, a rat will not emerge. Hence, the possibility that flashing across our news screens at some future point will be a certain collegial image:
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"This becomes pretty evident when O'Grady, functioning as a Pennies proxy, accuses Brendan Hughes and Dolours Price of having become police informers. "
ReplyDeleteI don't think anyone in the PUL community would believe this for a second so it's quite patently nonsense if old enemies wouldn't entertain the notion. There's an awful lot of Doublespeak Danny desperate to deflect behind all this methinks.
Feck me Mackers, you didn't miss and hit the wall with this one. As they say "the dildo of consequences rarely arrives lubed" and I am sure it will be a while before Danny and the Andytout News crew can sit down again.
ReplyDeleteI thought Rat In The Hat was good but Snakeknife is ever better
ReplyDeleteExcellent as usual Anthony. Mr O'Grady has truly imbibed deeply of the 'Kool Aid'. The mental gymnastics required to produce such drivel are beyond the powers of most mere mortals
ReplyDeleteDes - I just listened to him on a podcast. He quoted from his next book. The writing is beautiful which makes it even more incongruous that he should write so poorly in his article. He reminds me of Niall O'Dowd's scribbling when it comes to matters associated with 'The Master.' His next book seems to be an attempt to understand whereas in his opinion piece he is out to deflect flak away from 'The Master. His hostility would not deter me from reviewing his next work fairly. I have an interest in it because it captures something of the late Lucas Quigley, a guy I very much liked.
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