I Have Resolved To Go On Hunger Strike In Protest Of The Potential Repeal Of The 8th Amendment
Independent and unwanted politician Jim Tackson has made the news with his daring declaration that he will be going on hunger strike in defence of the 8th. This will be a true test of his will, but Jim isn’t a man who does things by halves, that would be setting the bar far too high.
This is his story.
I have bravely decided to protest of the potential repeal of the 8th amendment. I am valiantly choosing to forgo all sustenance until the government heeds my call, such is my dedication. Of course, I won’t persist until the point of death, that would be a bit much. I can’t imagine anyone dying over this!
I will stand outside the Dáil taking in nothing but still water, maybe sparkling if I’m feeling fancy. I will stay in place, sentinel-like until my demands are met. At least, I will stand unmoving from 7am to 7pm, as we come into winter the nights are getting colder. I don’t want to risk catching a cold or flu. It’s not worth that, now.
I will suffer for my cause! No food shall pass my lips, with maybe the exception of the occasional Curly Wurly to keep my blood sugar up so I don’t feel too faint.
My vigil will run for 12 consecutive hours every day, with nothing more than an hour break every four hours as per official health and safety guidelines.
No matter the weather, no matter what mother nature throws at me, I will persist unless it’s too rainy at which point I will move my vigil to the Costa down the road. It has nice chairs and WiFi. From there I will continue my protest, apart from on Tuesday evenings, I can’t miss The Great British Bake Off (it’s my favourite, however Noel Fielding’s effete ways make me uncomfortable).
When Leo Varadkar sees me emaciated, suffering but unbowed, he will know my plight. With this in mind for the sake of the efficiency of my cause, I will only be at the gate at the start and end of the working day when Leo is passing by and can actually see me. This of course also rules out weekends, there’d be no one around to see me.
At dawn and dusk I will valiantly stand guard at the gate, defending the 8th. Of course the hunger strike will ravage my body so I will need more sleep to recuperate. This of course rules out making it to the Dáil for 7am every day. I will instead ensure to be there for 5pm sharp.
Of course in my hunger-wracked state, I will be in no fit state to drive, and my weakened constitution would be no match for the germ-riddled crucible of public transport, so for my health’s sake I will conduct my hunger strike from the safety of my mam’s living room.
A hunger strike is a true trial for the human body, and can hold a host of complications. To prevent long term damage, I have no choice but to consume one simple meal a day – my mother, Molly’s, famous coddle. Of course I will also have to imbibe the garlic bread starter. I’m not a savage.
As the hunger strike wears on my body, I will no doubt be struck down with fatigue. To preempt this, I have chosen to move my hunger strike from my mother’s living room to my bed.
As the strike goes on I know I will have to supplement my diet with two other meals a day, one in the morning and one at midday.
As you can see, I am willing to put myself through a severe trial to protect the 8th. I hope that the Taoiseach sees the risk my body is being subjected to, and the extreme measures I’m forced to take due to his inaction.
We can’t have anyone getting hurt over this, after all,
Jim Tackson, Political Martyr [sic]
