People still talk about the time a famous climbing Englishman, aided by ex-Russian spies and a multi-armed sea monster,
saved Rocky Rockital, that much disputed granite rock lying a giant’s stone throw off Donegal, from the grasp of a superpower.
Indeed, my old Ma, Philomena, would sing, ‘A mountainy man from Albion’s shore,
after climbing The Poisoned Glen, achieved great fame by climbing Everest,
after seeing off a presidential bore…’
Intrigued by these raggedly lyrics, I pressed her for its origin.
I was told of the time, as official guardian to the aforementioned glen, she’d invited famed mountaineer, Chris Bollofountain, to practise there, declaring, ‘This mystical place closely resembles a rock face on the world’s highest peak, and was once populated by little men…’
Chris interjected, ‘I don’t need the tourist spiel about a giant’s eye knocked out by a little fellow, which split the rocks and tainted the valley.
‘Okay,’ laughed the old woman, ‘but don’t forget to mention us after you’ve climbed Mount Everest, for my kingdom is long regarded as the ‘Forgotten County’.’
‘But I am pressed by matters of greater import, so sit down and drink your glass of stout,
for I fear the coming of a political beast who desires the furthest outpost of my kingdom, Rockital.
‘Look out to sea, it’s to the left, a huge rocky outcrop.
‘Though it’s been argued over by English, Danes and Icelanders, it was put there by a giant called McDermot-Kelt, who in a rage, tossed it far out to sea.
‘After being severely scolded by my ancient relative, a revered sage, he granted it to Donegal.
At this Chris said, ‘I was going to climb that, but the boatman babbled about a monster,
or some such claptrap.’
‘Oh, that’s Ollie, a harmless but big octopus.
‘A real ‘monster’ is on his way to acquire that unique place, disputed by several countries,
for it lies on top of untapped gas.
‘He claims it was established for the United States by a 19th century US naval commander,
‘Heave-about’ Herb Hipmouth, after his boat was sunk by a ‘legendary beast of the sea’.
‘Herb raged and swore at life’s misfortune, while clinging to a rocky islet.
Then up popped Mickle Donglune, a young monk, who, pressing a hidden lever,
revealed an engine room powered by seaweed.
‘Herb was soon wallowing in a steaming bath, hollowed out of a mighty crustaceous shell.
He promised to keep the secret of Rockital, but one night in his cups, told a journalist,
‘Brigand’ Big-Read, great, great uncle of presidential hopeful, Dundonald Fallowfrump,
of a sea passage inhabited by a many-armed creature.
‘Armed with this secret, he intends to announce his latest acquisition, which he says will improve his country’s fuel system.’
A silence followed this remarkable tale, eventually broken by Chris,
‘I believe you refer to the new US President – I can help you there, I hope.’
‘For I have a secret past – before making my name ascending lofty peaks,
I was recruited by Her Majesty’s Secret Service to climb skyscrapers,
entering the offices of my country’s enemies;’ here he paused, ‘and,
if you don’t mind me showing off, all without the aid of a rope.’
The following day this curious climber spotted a boat carrying former enemies,
The Leaping Ivans, Russian acrobats who’d sought asylum while touring Europe,
and now ran a fish-and-chip shop delivery service in Ballydamuckass.
They waved at him as they sailed out to deliver tasty meals to a trawler fleet.
He recalled, ‘I remember, how they chased me over lofty towers, in the Soviet city of Gagleglatz!
‘In exchange for vital secrets, I arranged for HM Government to arrange political
asylum for that very agile troupe.’
Meanwhile Brother Mickle Donglune, now a very elderly monk,
emerged from his subterranean cell on that oceanic peak, Rockital,
to wave at these enterprising chaps, just as a huge octopus appeared,
its cephalopod limbs dangling, to see US sailors unfurling a flag on his rocky home.
As one man they leaped up and grabbed that ‘symbol of the capitalist enemy’,
then disappeared into the mist, while the huge creature enveloped a US navy cruiser in a vice-like grip, before disappearing into the deep.
The monk composed a letter to my Ma.
‘You may have learned of the invasion to my home of Rockital, by a dastardly fellow who believed he could grab it for the USA when we all know it belongs to Donegal.
‘But I’m glad to say he was thwarted by The Leaping Ivans, aided by Ollie, the ‘sea monster’.
This was captured by TV crews, but of course he claimed it was fake news.
‘Then, while opening a sea life centre in Ballydamuckass, the presidential fool squealed with fright, when the curator asked him to shake tentacles with a harmless little octopus.
‘This is now expected to spell his political demise, as voters in the USA are notoriously fickle.
Yours with love, Mickle.
Not long after, recovering from his ascent of Everest, a mountaineer babbled about
a huge sea monster off the Forgotten County of Donegal.
This amused his doctor, who put it down to high-altitude exhaustion,
while the press had a good laugh.
So the famed climber returned to a rocky outcrop for a seaweed-powered hot bath,
welcomed by an ancient monk, who urged him to keep the secret of Rocky Rockital.
”You can visit here any time, despite doubting the tale Philomena spun.’
He did, after negotiating tricky overhangs in the Poisoned Glen, where he was often seen talking to no-one.
But my Ma knew it was the poisoned valley’s ‘little men’.
