Canoodling crisis in rural Ireland

"All the eligible ladies are gone to Australia," he tearfully wrote, "What am I to do?"

It was a story that I had heard a thousand times before.

The writer explained that he had a fine holding with no debt attached to him.

His Single Farm Payment was also in a healthy state.

His mother was still alive and able to drive, and so was independent for the most part.

And yet, in spite of all these advantages, he had failed to secure a suitable partner.

"I have searched," this diligent servant of the land wrote, "all over Ireland. From every low-lying ditch to high up boulder, and yet, I can't find a tender hand to hold. Has the world gone crazy?" He asked.

"There are no women left. Australia has taken them all," he declared.

T'was an emotional correspondence for sure, and one which left me grasping for answers.

But then, at the end, the lonesome lothario had this to say: "You must go to Australia, Denny!

"You must go out there in search of women. You are our last hope."

So there you have it. Here was a man clearly at the end of his tether, and he was now expecting me to hop into action like some class of a bucking kangaroo.

The letter arrived here almost a week ago, and in normal circumstances, it would go directly into the fire. I am a busy man, after all, and not usually swayed by matters pertaining to the heart.

However, with the wind howling outside and with the rain pouring down from every corner, I must confess I have thought about Australia quite a bit.

And now, unable to resist the call any longer, I have decided that I will go to Australia and do what I can.

I must answer the Irish bachelor's call and attempt to sway the departed into returning. And if this means swapping my tired, old wellington boots for a colourful pair of Australian flip-flops, so be it.

Now, at this stage, I have almost everything in place for my trip down under.

I have my passport. I have my rosary beads. I have 16 pairs of underpants and the bachelor's letter, of course, to explain my reasons for going.

All I am really short of are the funds to get me to Australia. Hence, my reason for mentioning it today.

The lack of funds is the only fly in my Australian ointment.

So today, I am calling on the decent people who run the Department of Agriculture and Rural Affairs to sponsor my trip to Australia as I go in search of single ladies for the lads.

Granted, it's a trip that won't come cheap, nor is it one that can be done in a hurry.

I will need deep pockets, and that's for sure.

And with the rain pelting down outside here in Kilmichael, I will need suntan lotion too, for Bondi Beach.

I intend to spend six months in Australia, at the very least, and then if I have no luck there, perhaps carry-on to New Zealand.

The aim, of course, will be to chat with single ladies everywhere, of every nationality. I feel it might be best to broaden the scope.

Sure, I needn't tell you because you already know that rural Ireland is in a shambolic state due to a lack of numbers and a general decline in canoodling.

There is a canoodling crisis in rural parts. Action is badly needed, and any moves I can make will surely be welcome.

There is urgency in my trip to OZ. In fact, I can't wait to go.

So if you don't hear from me again until next summer, don't worry. Auld Lehane is doing grand.

I'm probably out in Australia someplace sunning myself on the beach and telling all about how wonderful life is back in Ireland.

We need to get rural Ireland canoodling again.