We Spent The Weekend Counting Votes, And Here’s What We Learned


HOPING to gain some insight into the mindset of the Irish people during an election, WWN volunteered to tally votes at our local counting station. Here’s how it went:

Saturday, 8:00 AM – And we’re off! The mood is jovial as the ballot boxes spill open and the count begins.

Saturday, 9:00 AM – we are steadily working our way through the count. The ballot sheet has 97 names on it, but everyone seems to have just picked the same 8 or 9 names. 80% of these independent lads needn’t have bothered their holes. Look at this lad here, he hasn’t had a vote yet. You wasted your communion money on posters for nothing, pal.

Saturday, 10:00 AM – Oh the comedy in these spoiled votes. Here’s one, you’ll love this… someone drew an extra square at the end and wrote in his own name, then gave himself his number 1. Oh, what a mad bastard. Truly one of this generation’s finest.

Saturday, 12:00 PM – Lads are you serious with the Fianna Fail votes.

Saturday, 2:00 PM – We’ll be honest, we’re not sure how this whole proportional representation thing works. One of the four seats of this constituency just went to a guy who didn’t really get that many number ones, but then by the virtue of 2nd and 3rd choices of other ballot papers, he’s been elected to one of the highest ranking jobs in Ireland.

Saturday, 7:00 PM – There’s seat number two gone. We take a pause from counting while a woman in her late sixties is hoisted onto the shoulders of four men and bopped up and down like she’s in the mosh pit of a Slayer gig.

Saturday, 11:00 PM – It’s neck-and-neck for the third and final seat, but everyone here is just knackered. Someone calls for a recount. They can fuck off.

Sunday, 10:00 AM – And the count begins again. We were supposed to be out of the hall by now. There’s a pair of five-a-side football teams looking through the door at us, looking very annoyed.

Sunday, 12:00 PM – We’re on our fourth recount, even though the last two were spot on as far as we’re concerned.

Sunday, 17:00 PM – Finally, the third seat is gone. The new TD reacts in much the same fashion as someone who just won the European Championship with a screamer of a 90th minute free kick from 50 yards out. He’s running around the hall with his shirt ripped open, screaming in everyones’ faces. Just the kind of guy you want in the Dáil, really.

Sunday, 9:00 PM – ANOTHER recount is called for. Nope. No way. We’re not counting these fucking things again.

Sunday, 11:00 PM – Seriously, there’s three people elected already. Does this constituency need a fourth? Really?

Monday, 10:00 AM – Count number 9 is underway. At this stage we’d give it to the lad who filled his own name on the ballot.