Here in the land of boybands and tribunals, you are both destined to be held up as perfect exemplars of new Ireland, going forward. Our very own royalty.

There was a time when you would be described as two little boys, but there are no boys no more in this market of ours. Neither are there lads, nor fellas, nor men. All we have are guys.

Even the girls are guys. And I mean, like, totally.

Now, you guys, before we give you the lowdown on the land of boybands and tribunals at this time of your checking in, there is the little matter of your education.

At some point in the coming years you will be exposed to nursery rhymes, which on the face of it, might appear harmless, but in New Ireland Inc you are advised to watch out for sinister messages held within.

For instance, steer clear of the piggies. That corrupting line about "this little piggy went to the market, this little piggy stayed at home" is really a socialist plot designed to undermine the supply of cheap labour to a hungry market.

What little piggy in his or her right mind would stay at home under a regime of tax individualisation? Surely all piggies . . . little, big or obese . . .

want to add value by committing to the workforce in order to decelerate wage inflation, going forward? Just lose the piggies and seek out some proper nursery rhymes about risk takers.

Yes, guys, it will be difficult to manage change though your childhood, but stick with it and the market will bring its own rewards.

Now, back to the state of play in the land of boybands and tribunals. As you will one day discover, your genes are teeming with the stuff of the national totem poles.

The Da is a member of the greatest boyband to walk planet earth since JC formed the Apostles. And Grandpa has the cut of a man who can't get enough of tribunals.

Both phenomena have prospered over the last decade, guys, and each defines the time. Da's band was put together as a business when he was but a teenager. Da and the other guys were packaged and pruned, scrubbed up and shaken down, told how to walk and when to talk.

And hey presto, where once sullen youth lashed out at the status quo through music, now the boys in the band swooned and crooned through "numbers" all the way to the bank.

It was soul, guys, but not as James Brown knew it. The year on year growth was spectacular.

New markets began to appear all over the globe. The guys became poster boys for Ireland Inc. Pretty soon, they are destined to be rebranded as a guyband, because the guys are no longer boys, and even boys are no longer boys, but guys. You dig?

So much for that legacy.

The tribunal genes are just as torturous. For the last decade, guys, tribunals have stalked this land of ours, digging holes into the past and, more often than not, falling into the holes themselves.

But the real star of the show is the man they couldn't hang . . . yes, guys, you got it, grandpops.

They seek him here, these tribunals, they seek him there, but he has always managed to keep one step ahead, elusive, smiling shyly, holding his hands up to demonstrate that he's a simple man who saw, heard or did no evil in those troublesome times, long ago.

Grandpops has led the country from the front in this regard. He pledged to clean up politics and brought in ethics that force politicians to limit and account for their spending for a three week period, once every five years.

This is what passes for clean politics and accountability, in the land of boybands and tribunals.

Truly, grandpops is a giant of the times, more able at playing smoke and mirrors than any who have come before him.

And there you have it, guys, that's the height of it. Now, let's kick off bedtime stories with this. Once upon a time, there was a man called Bonof