McCreevy the grinch makes a happy meal out of stuffed tiger

Charlie McCreevy was enthusiastic about delivering the bad news, writes Frank McNally

Charlie McCreevy was enthusiastic about delivering the bad news, writes Frank McNally

The publication of the Estimates took place in Government Buildings, as usual. But this year the event should have been moved next door, to the Natural History Museum. The museum's projects include "The Extinction Trail", in which students study exhibits of extinct animals and try to explain what happened to them; which is more or less what the Minister for Finance was doing up the road.

The Celtic Tiger (Tigris Hibernia Vulgaris) was not a native species, but it thrived in Ireland in the last years of the 20th century, and reported sightings were still common as recently as the general election campaign last May. Like the giant deer, however, it fell victim to dramatic climate change. And when he finally unveiled its glassy-eyed carcase yesterday, Mr McCreevy did so with the enthusiasm of a professional taxidermist.

He might have been excused for performing a version of the dead parrot sketch: "It's not dead. It's only sleeping." He could have pretended to spot the occasional twitch, based on expected economic growth this year of 2 per cent. But he was in no mood for optimism. Even 2 per cent "may be optimistic", he declared. Short of adding "bah, humbug" and announcing the cancellation of Christmas, he could not have been more enthusiastic about delivering bad news.

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His speech was accompanied by a slide show, and it was a slide show in more ways than one. From a 1999 high, Exchequer receipts then slumped dramatically, while spending continued to reach dizzying heights until the election.

His hard-bitten realism didn't extend to taking the hits on behalf of his Cabinet colleagues, especially when it came to answering questions about the specific consequences of the figures. Like a scrum-half with an instinct for self-preservation, he off-loaded the greasy ball at every opportunity. Asked about the Health Strategy, he invariably passed blind - known in the trade as the "hospital pass" - to Micheál Martin.

Setting next year's meagre health spending increase in the context of a cumulative 147 per cent rise since 1997, he insisted the overall trend had to mean management delivering far higher levels of service.

"I do not believe that the people are twice as sick now as they were [in 1997]," was how he put it. But whatever about the people, the condition of the tiger was in no doubt. When Mr McCreevy had finished with it yesterday, it was well and truly stuffed.