Episode 21 – The Gospel According To Bully…

When the mask matters more than the man behind it. It’s a curious thing, watching a man polish his halo every Sunday morning. Down at Ballinfaurel the boots are clean, the hair is combed and the smile is set to ‘community mode’. The neighbours see a man of routine, a loyal family man, faithful to the land and the Lord. He nods at mass, goes to communion and drops a coin in the collection basket, maybe even sings a bit too loudly on Be Not Afraid. A saint by all account, so long as the accounts don’t go beyond the chapel gates. But butter wouldn’t melt in that man’s mouth. Behind the holy hymns and the neighbourly waves lies the real gospel of Bully Yates: keep up appearances at all costs and let no one see the rot in the rafters.

Because here’s the trick – what matters most to Bully isn’t family, fairness or truth. It’s face. It’s what Maureen behind the deli thinks. What Liam across the field might say. He would probably host his own canonization if the neighbors would show up and bring a tray bake.

Meanwhile, behind the lace curtain of rural respectability, there’s gaslighting, dodgy dealings and a whole lot of drama that’d make even the priest ask for a double whiskey. You could lose your mind trying to reason with someone who’s more worried about their image than their impact. But here we are, brushing the mud off our boots, watching the Sunday show like the rest of the parish, wondering just how many masks one man can wear.

If Bully ever truly went to confession…

‘Forgive me Father’ for I have:

Moved a camera to make sure she knows I’m watching, but said it was for ‘security’..

Ignored emails like they were flyers for a car boot sale.

Played the holy martyr while stirring up pure unholy chaos.

Cared more about Maureen’s opinion than my own conscience.

Gaslighted like there was no tomorrow!

Used the word ‘family’ only when I needed something signed.

Imagine the priest blinking twice, checking the small window and saying, ‘My son… we might need a longer session. And possibly a solicitor.’

And yet, out he goes – head held high, smile just right, boots polished to perfection. Because in Bully’s world, if the neighbors don’t see it, it never happened. Reputation over reality. Appearances over accountability. But the thing about masks? Sooner or later, they slip. And when they do… well, I’ll be here. With the receipts, the memories and maybe a turf briquette or two. Watching the performance from the front row at Faurel Hill..

Lesson of the Day:

You are not responsible for how someone else polishes their public halo while raising hell behind closed doors.

If they want to win ‘Most Holy Neighbour of the Year‘ while causing more drama than a soap opera, let them. That’s their circus, their monkeys and probably their dodgy bake sale tray too.

Your job?
Keep your peace.
Protect your vibe.
And remember, people who need to perform for a crowd are usually the ones most afraid to sit quietly with themselves.

So next time someone tries to gaslight you, guilt-trip you or pull you into their weird little one-man show, just smile, sip your tea and think: Babe, this ain’t about me. And I’m fresh out of front row tickets‘.