Lighten Up: Farmer confusion as 'AI man' wins Nobel Prize

The AI man has won the Nobel Prize, and I couldn't be happier.

I heard it on the news last night. 'Tis unbelievable!

For no one in farming deserves the award more than the AI man.

Except perhaps for the farmer, who alas sees precious few rewards, other than heavenly ones.

For a long time now, 30 years in fact, I have been relentlessly farming here in the wilds of Kilmichael, with little company bar that of the AI man.

I would have gone crazy long ago only for him.

For my part, I would always have paid my bill on time and given the AI man a packet of biscuits for Christmas.

But I felt it was never enough.

He does great work on this farm, and many others, getting cows in calf.

The Nobel Prize is the least he deserves; it's long overdue and far better than a packet of biscuits.

I congratulated the AI man in the yard this morning for winning the Nobel Prize, before quickly pointing out the cow who needed his attention. She was a repeat offender with lively back legs.

"Be cautious," I warned my Nobel Laureate, as he heeded my advice.

I also told him that nobody deserved the Nobel Prize more than himself, and that he would now have to travel to Stockholm or Munich or someplace to collect his fancy trophy or golden Medallion.

He was far from impressed.

"Why can't I collect it in Dunmanway?" The AI man cribbed.

I told him I didn't know, but presumed that they wanted to make a big song and dance about it.

"That's the way things like that are done," I explained.

"It a bit like the All-stars back in the old days, I suppose," says I.

"And you are probably like the Teddy McCarthy of Irish farming."

Well, the AI man brightened up immediately on hearing this news, for it can be wonderful to be compared to the great Teddy McCarthy.

The chest went out, and the head rightly swelled.

At the end of the day, I guess 'tis only a plaque of some nature, but I felt it would be nice to make a fuss, so I suggested that he would need a dickie bow and all the regalia that goes along with it.

"The suit can be hired," I assured him there would be no problem in that department.

I know a girl back near Rossmore who would have him resembling a groom fit for a wedding in two shakes of a lamb's tail.

And with that, the AI man promised that he would go along with it, so long as the AI calls didn't mount up while he was away.

"Sure, what calls will you have in December?" I roared with laughter "Only repeats from the likes of me."

And I promised him that I would do my best to look out for him on the telly on the night of the presentation, so long as it didn't collide with Saturday night mass.

"T'will be like the Rose of Tralee, all over again," I cheerfully remarked.

"Say a prayer for me when I'm in Stockholm," he jovially quipped, as he took his leave from the yard with his job done.

"You don't need my prayers," I assured him.

He's the AI man, after all.

The fellow most farmers turn to in their hour of need.

He should have won the Nobel Prize years ago.