After forty-three years of sly, scabrous fortnightly dispatches, those smudged, ink-stained missives from the underbelly of Irish power, half private eye, half something older and more venomous, not very intellectual, mind you, the Irish politics and finance Phoenix Magazine is closing.
No more issues.
Voluntary liquidation, they say.
The printers will fall silent, the newsagent's shelves will yawn a little wider, and somewhere in a small circle of political and business readers will feel the peculiar ache of something irreplaceable slipping into the archives of Irish history.
Paddy Prendiville's sharp tongue has been silenced at last, much to the relief of a much older generation who remembers the gossip peddled and the damage done by that gossip.
The beast that gorged on politicians and other sacred cows' secrets and spat them back in cartoon form is finally, mercifully retired.
They had embarrassed themselves too often in recent years.
It was time for the Phoenix to go, much like a boyfriend or girlfriend you still love dearly but can no longer stand being around.
The relationship had run its course.
What once felt exciting, vital, and even a little dangerous had become less fashion-conscious, outdated, and increasingly irrelevant in a faster, louder world.
You might miss the good times and feel a pang of nostalgia, but deep down you know the kindest thing for everyone is to walk away.
After forty-three years of sly, scabrous fortnightly dispatches, those smudged, ink-stained missives from the underbelly of Irish power, half private eye, half something older and more venomous, not very intellectual, mind you, the Irish politics and finance Phoenix Magazine is closing.
No more issues.
Voluntary liquidation, they say.
The printers will fall silent, the newsagent's shelves will yawn a little wider, and somewhere in a small circle of political and business readers will feel the peculiar ache of something irreplaceable slipping into the archives of Irish history.
Paddy Prendiville's sharp tongue has been silenced at last, much to the relief of a much older generation who remembers the gossip peddled and the damage done by that gossip.
The beast that gorged on politicians and other sacred cows' secrets and spat them back in cartoon form is finally, mercifully retired.
They had embarrassed themselves too often in recent years.
It was time for the Phoenix to go, much like a boyfriend or girlfriend you still love dearly but can no longer stand being around.
The relationship had run its course.
What once felt exciting, vital, and even a little dangerous had become less fashion-conscious, outdated, and increasingly irrelevant in a faster, louder world.
You might miss the good times and feel a pang of nostalgia, but deep down you know the kindest thing for everyone is to walk away.
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