JUST WHEN we thought the situation couldn’t get any more daft, the Bull O’Donoghue popped up at Listowel Races and talked himself into more bother.
Standing in the bookies’ enclosure like a man without a care in the world he talked about how his shameful past of unbridled junketeering is now behind him. The race cards and odds twinkled in red lights on the boards behind him. Punters craned their necks and gurned into the cameras. “In so far as one regrets anything, I think that is an apology,” mooed O’Donoghue, as the sun bounced off his brass neck and the national jaw dropped another few notches.
It may have been a surreal performance from the Ceann Comhairle, but after two strange days in Athlone at the Fianna Fáil think-in, it was in keeping with the creeping sense of madness about the people who govern us.
The story of O’Donoghue’s escapades at the taxpayer’s expense while he was Minister for Limousines and Fancy Hats would not go away. The problem for the Fianna Fáil party was that the Bull’s difficulties represented just another embarrassment in an ever-expanding list.
It’s a bit scary to think that the Government’s way of dealing with a controversy is to argue that everybody was at it. But the past is another country. This new mantra was beautifully pushed by one senior deputy when asked about all the past deeds that are now coming back to haunt the party.
“These are legacy issues. There is nothing to be gained now by raising legacy issues.”
This is a view that is clearly espoused at the very top, judging by Brian Cowen’s dreadful handling of the O’Donoghue issue on Morning Ireland yesterday.
“There is now a new regime in place in respect of all of that . . . What happened in the past was in respect of a regime that was in place at that time, we have to obviously change that regime and that is what we have done.”
You go to bed on the Westmeath/Roscommon border and wake up in North Korea. This crowd is straight out of Alice in Wonderland. An already slack-jawed nation struggled to chew on its Shreddies. Then Biffo came out with piece of jargon that was positively stunning, even by his high standards.
The Taoiseach was trying to explain why he was trying to wriggle out of giving a straight answer on the question of Biggles the Bull and his soaring expenses.
“As Taoiseach, I don’t want to get engaged in an interface with an independent constitutional position.”
It took RTÉ’s Paschal Sheehy to do the interfacing when he found the Independent Constitutional Position formerly known as the Bull at Listowel Races. How political hearts must have soared at the sight of the Ceann Comhairle working hard on a Tuesday in Kerry.
Biffo’s poor performance on radio just added to the Bunglefest on Lough Ree, which became Ireland’s answer to Lake Wobegon when the Soldiers of Destiny called.
We had already seen and read about the farmers running amok outside the Hodson Bay Hotel. Not to mention hordes of police and private security guards talking into their shirt-cuffs. And the Hodson Bay Hotel booked out entirely by Fianna Fáil, with instructions that only people from the party could swim in the pool.
Then there was the evening dinner, where the entertainment was provided by a nice gentleman, who played the piano non stop to a backing track without breaking a sweat. In previous years, the entertainment had been far more swish. But let’s not get into legacy issues.
Peter Quinn, businessman and former president of the GAA, spoke at the end of the meal. He went on, and on, and on. It was pure torture, but again, in keeping with the general air of mayhem and gloom.
The deputies were in bad form. No larking about outside during the day. Very quiet in the bar later on. It was rumoured that when the security staff roared “Lock-down! Lock-down!” when the farmers invaded on Monday, some parliamentary party members rushed to the bar in the mistaken belief that there was a “lock-in! lock-in!”.
Backbencher Mattie McGrath, who is fast becoming the James Bannon of Fianna Fáil, continued to give interviews expressing displeasure with whatever would get him to the next microphone. Journalists kept chasing Ministers for a comment on the Bull’s expenses and the fact that he needs to employ a full-time adviser along with his large staff to help him organise wheezes like open-days in the Dáil and field trips to schools by TDs.
With all the FF ministers in the one place, the number of big men in dark suits loitering around the lawn was striking. No, not the Ministers, but the Garda drivers. When you see them all together, that’s an awful lot of gardaí driving our Cabinet Miss Daisys.
The day finished with a family photo. Rather poignant, given the inescapable thought that it might be the last picture show for some. Mary O’Rourke sat in the front row and Micheál Martin, afraid to move her, had to squash in beside Donie Cassidy in the second row.
The Taoiseach held one last press conference. He was asked what he had in mind when he told the party “I need to do better”. An uncomfortable Biffo seemed to forget he said this, and tried to convince everyone he had been using the royal “we” and actually referring to the Government. But nobody believed him.
Everyone seemed relieved to be going home. And then the Bull popped up at the races . . .