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In a memorable episode — few were forgettable, in fairness — of the hit 1990s TV sitcom, Father Ted, the no-nonsense, hot-tempered Bishop Brennan gets a kick up the posterior from the comedy classic’s title character.
Revenge: It’s often best put on the long finger.
Dazed and enraged
Ted was forced into this almost-suicidal shoe of strength after being exposed as a cheat while managing a football team against his arch-rival priest, Dick Byrne. Kicking Bishop Brennan up the arse was the forfeit.
When a near-perfect scenario arises where the deed can be carried out, Ted duly delivers the hit.
Considering the fear he instils in his inferiors, Bishop Brennan can’t believe what’s happened.
The next few scenes show His Grace in a stupor as he makes his way to Rome for an audience with the Pope. It’s only at the Vatican, facing Pope John Paul II, that Bishop Brennan snaps out of this stupor and realises that he did indeed get kicked up the arse.
Cue a rush back to Ireland to confront Father Ted.
A slapstick comedy this show may have been, yet I often find myself referring to it for solace, of sorts. That and the fact that many of its silly scenes accurately reflect real life.
While I haven’t been in a stupor to the extent Bishop Brennan was, I have been regularly distracted by thoughts of an episode that has, or at least had, left me disillusioned. (See both The fiendish frenemy and Bogged down in Bogotá for more on that.)
‘What had made the rage so acute was the belief that outside of, unwisely, taking matters more firmly into my own hands, I felt rather powerless.’
That the borrower in my previously documented money-lending saga has started to re-engage in the repayment process is helping to lessen the disillusionment.
I did also, à la Bishop Brennan, have my snap-out-of-it moment, the result of which was a verbal attack — or two — on my loanee friend/frenemy. It appears to have cleared the heavy air that had, understandably enough, existed between us, although at the time it seemed like it had finally put an end to any pretence of friendship.
Power struggle
Nonetheless, this whole loan affair has left a sour taste. It’s likely to linger for quite a while. What’s more, as alluded to, there is still money to be repaid.
Yet, those feelings of rage with an accompanying desire to exact revenge of some sort have dissipated.
What had made such feelings so acute was the belief that outside of, unwisely, taking matters more firmly into my own hands, I felt rather powerless. An omnipotent Bishop Brennan dealing with an unruly understudy I was not.
Sure, the borrower and I had signed a legally binding document but going the legal route to get this money repaid would most likely result in more pain rather than any pay, particularly in Colombia.
The only viable approach I’ve had throughout, without potentially creating more problems, has been to play the waiting game.
A couple of verbal shots fired in frustration aside, this is largely how I’ve played it. I have been fairly patient and understanding, if I do say so myself.
However it finally plays out, enough has happened thus far to ensure this money-lending episode will live long in the memory. It’s been a kick in the posterior one has to learn from.
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