What a lovely day … for a Christmas eviction!

A frosty sunny morning, shortly before Christmas. We are in a remote part of Cavan, not far from the Northern Ireland border with Fermanagh. We are waiting for the agents of a foreign vulture fund to come to the cottage and try to evict Our Host. If you are going to be evicted from the modest home you raised your family in, it’s certainly much more pleasant to have a beautiful sunny day for it.

There are quite a few airplanes, some flying in formation, flying high up. They are either on their way to or from north America.

Don’t worry folks. They tried to evict him, but they failed. They might try again: they will fail again.

This visit would be the third visit by the Irish agents of a foreign bank. The first was the worst: He innocently opens his front door in response to a ring. A dozen guys with masks and East European accents push past him into his house. The leader grabs Our Host’s hand, and forces it back.

“Don’t resist.”

The leader tells him the bank is repossessing the house and takes the keys from him. Confused and intimidated, Our Host agrees to leave his house.

There is one Garda (policeman). He stays outside the house, so he does not witness the assault. His conscience is troubling him: he is sweating and trembling. He knows this is wrong, but he is too terrified of his Sergeant to do or even say anything.

The repossessed cottage stands ón four acres of land, which are NOT repossessed. So Our Host stays in his camper van there for a few days. Then he uses his spare key to get back into the house. He changes the locks, and he is in possession again.

A few weeks later, two pleasant Irish agents call to him. They express surprise that he has moved back in, but are polite and inform him they will be coming back again, this time to evict him. He lets them think that he will cooperate.

Our Host has changed his mind! At first, he was lonely and despondent, and was prepared to roll over, not struggle and allow the bank to respossess the house. Follow the path of least resistance, as they say. The bank knew the details of his personal life, and knew that he was lonely and sad. They knew there was a good chance they could hustle him out his house and he would be too depressed and fatalistic to resist in any way.

Never underestimate the power of a friendly, truthful and encouraging word. One remark can change a whole lifestyle. There’s a publican in Drumkeeran who used to be very fat. One of the lads said it to him: You’re very fat. He started walking immediately, and does 8 míle a day ever since. He’s thin as a rake and in tip top shape. Three simple words made the change.

Our Host consulted with friends and neighbours. Encouraging words and lots of contradictory advice came flooding in. A decentralised legal team, made up of some of the finest lay litigants in the country, offfered suggestions.

Our Host had never put a fence or a gate ón his land. Within a week and with a little help from his friends, there were four shiny new farm gates, all perfectly level. Also rolls of top quality barbed wire. And some cutting of hawthorn to make a living thorn barrier.

They could destroy a gate in a few minutes with an angle grinder. Twenty seconds with a snip through a barbed wire fence. But it is important as a statement: I will make if difficult for you to evict mé.

As well as gates there were signs: Elaborate declarations that there was a fine of 10,000 per minute for all trespass, that this was private property, that all implied permission was withdrawn, that CCTV was operating 24 hours and could be used in a court of law. All this was signed by Our Host in big dramatic writing. Then he nailed them to the big poplar trees lining the boreen.

The Irish agents ring Our Host. He tells them he intends to stay in the property and will contest the eviction through the courts. They are polite. About ten minutes later, they arrive at the property. They make no attempt to climb over the new gate. Our Host strolls down to the gate to talk to them. I follow thirty yards behind, with a recording device.

They start chatting with Our Host. Then they notice mé, walking towards them with a recording device.

“Oh, you have a friend with you today.” They are a little disappointed.

They are also a little bit upset that I am recording them. They politely ask that I stop recording. There is a civil discussion back and forth for a few minutes. Then Our Host signals to me to stop recording.

The conversation is civil and polite. Our Host explains the legal flaws in the repossession order. The two locksmiths listen politely and say that their role is to make a report. They tell him that the bank is keen to negotiate with him.

We part with great friendliness and even mutual handshaking. It is unusual that men in that líne of work are prepared to give their names. But these two men were brave enough to, and let us record them: The Little and Large comedy team of Steven Stacey and Ross Howell.

The bank never rang to start negotiations. Instead, a week later, we noticed a shiny big cop car parked outside the property. The cops get out. They are asked: Is there a problem?

They say they have a report of a trespass. They do not know who made the report, they were just told to go to this location. They stay carefully on their side of the gate. Our Host explains the limitations in the court order and urges them to get a copy of it themselves before acting ón nonsense reports of trespass from foreign banks.

The cops mention that they have never been to this remote location before.

Will Our Host get to stay in his house? So far so good. The cops have seemingly accepted that he is not trespassing and are aware that they must carefully consult the court order before responding to another call from the bank.

The Top Cop could, of course, just send in a squad of twenty riot cops next week, all with copies of the court order. Any attempt to talk to them would be met with a reference to the court order. They could smash the gate down and smash the door down too and arrest everyone for criminal trespass.

They could find twenty cops nasty enough to do this job, but they would probably have to look for guys who lived a long way away.

A pragmatic decision would be to be to negotiate with our host and get regular payments ón the outstanding mortgage.

Your prayers to your God are appreciated to encourage the bank to make this pragmatic decision. If you don’t believe in God, why not try out the telepathic part of your brain to send good vibrations?

Or you could directly contact the financial masterminds of this attempted eviction. At www.crowe.com. (info@crowe.ie) Or ring them ón + 353 1 4482200. Or drop into their office at 40 Mespil Rd, Dublin 4, near the canal. They have some kind of affiliate in New York also. Be polite and articulate. “I hear you are hiring foreigners to evict little old ethnic Irishmen from their homes up near Dowra. Is that true? Would you consider negotiating with the the guy so he can make payments on the mortgage? I look forward to prompt reply.”

Beir Bua! Nollaig Shona daoibh go leir! [Win! Merry Christmas to you all.]