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Solidarity with The Silenced.
Justice for the Cabra Road One.
#YouWontSubdueMaryLou
The Sinn Féin leader was “Brollied” in the Dáil on Wednesday and her colleagues were disgusted.
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Cut off in full flow for the second time in a row by the Phantom Microphone Muffler of the Lower House. Her ordeal mirrored the treatment meted out to Joe Brolly on RTÉ’s Claire Byrne Live show a couple of weeks ago when the outspoken GAA pundit was cancelled mid-interview because of remarks he made about the DUP.
A few days later and Mary Lou was similarly disconnected, mid-sentence, from the Convention Centre’s PA system. In her case it wasn’t a content issue but rather because she was banging on for too long.
But she let it pass, as did her supporters, which was surprising.
Fast forward to this week’s Leaders’ Questions and the Dublin Central TD is silenced yet again as she engages with the Taoiseach.
An outrageous thing to do.
Or maybe an outrageously brave thing to do.
It’s a plucky man or woman who decides to mute the formidable Sinn Féin leader when she’s up on her feet and holding forth. It goes against the commonly held belief that it is humanly impossible for anyone to stop Mary Lou from making her point if that is what she wants to do. Furthermore, a person or persons responsible for turning off her mic risk incurring the wrath of her ardent supporters, who take a very dim view of people slighting their leader.
That is an impertinence too far.
The latest outrage happened when the Ceann Comhairle indicated that her speaking time had expired. She had been questioning Micheál Martin on the Department of Health’s practice of gathering information on children with autism who are involved in legal actions against the State.
TDs routinely ignore the first intervention. Deputy McDonald ploughed on. So Seán Ó Fearghail called time again. Leaders routinely ignore the second intervention.
“Time is up deputy, please” insisted the Chair. Mary Lou kept on talking but there was no sound, so she had to admit defeat. “Thank you for shutting off my microphone” she sniffed, reluctantly resuming her seat.
“I didn’t turn off your microphone, or anyone else’s,” shrugged the Ceann Comhairle.
The Taoiseach responded. He too ran over. Ó Fearghail harried him, but Micheál Martin was also impervious to his pleadings. Once, twice, three times he was told to finish up, but to no avail.
Sinn Féin’s Padraig Mac Lochlainn was seething at the injustice of the situation. He interrupted with a point of order. How come the Taoiseach is allowed speak for “about 30 or 40 seconds” over time when his party leader (and other speakers) are unceremoniously silenced “for the second week in a row?”
Micheál was still talking as the Ceann Comhairle was barking at Sinn Féin’s Whip to sit down and mind his own business and Mac Lochlainn was noisily insisting on urgent clarification from the Chair.
“Why are microphones being turned off when the Taoiseach’s microphone remains on? Why are microphones being turned off?”
The Ceann Comhairle urged him not to bring the House into “disrepute” but Padraig had the bit between his teeth.
“I asked WHO turned off the microphones?”
The pandemic has turned Alan Kelly disgracefully co-operative and mellow
Ó’Feargháil, who likes to keep an orderly house, resembled a tortured barman calling time over and over again, imprisoned for all eternity in a disorderly closing-time loop.
He leapt to his feet, growing more annoyed by the second.
“I’ll tell you what, in more than five years occupying this chair, I have never turned off anybody’s microphone” he bellowed, jowls a quiver. “I have asked people to abide by the time limits, which are generally ignored. Will you not ignore me and please resume your seat. You’re out of order. YOU’RE OUT OF ORDER!”
Padraig relented. “Fair enough,” sez he. “Will whoever is turning off the microphones please stop doing it?”
There has to be a better way to enforce good time keeping. Ushers using long shepherd’s crooks or Vaudeville hooks to yank long-winded TDs off the stage would be entertaining.
Or maybe the Ceann Comhairle’s first warning could trigger a Dáil “Countdown Clock” with windbag TDs disappearing through the floor to the countdown sound of “du-du du-du de-de-de-de Boom!”
Moving on
But with no useful props, all Sean Ó Feargháil could do was declare the debate at an end and plot a course for calmer waters. “We are moving on to Deputy Kelly.”
That would be Labour leader Alan Kelly, normally expected at this point in the proceedings to be clutching a grenade and pulling the pin out with his teeth.
But the pandemic has turned him disgracefully co-operative and mellow.
He began by wishing the Taoiseach well with his new Covid strategy. “The country needs you to deliver and we will play a constructive role in whatever way we can and we will criticise where necessary …. I hope and pray that you deliver.”
But a good outcome depends on Micheál getting the plan right because “you’ve put all your eggs in the basket of the vaccine basket”. As you do.
There will be no cutting off of the Sinn Féin leader's microphone when she becomes taoiseach
Alan Kelly was anxious to dig into the Government’s data for a large number of reasons, one of which is very close to his heart.
“My wedding anniversary is in July,” he announced, all of a sudden.
“I’m going to offer to take my wife out for dinner in a restaurant she chooses,” he proudly puffed. What a guy. Imagine that, he’s even letting her pick the establishment. The missus will be thrilled.
The Taoiseach stifled a smirk.
“But I don’t know if I’m actually going to be able to take her out in July to a restaurant because I don’t know if they’ll be open.”
“Ah g’wan,” encouraged Michael McNamara.
“Bring a flask,” chortled Mattie McGrath.
The Taoiseach struggled to keep a straight face.
Lucky Mrs K. Counting down the days, now that Himself has let the cat out of the bag.
Either that or when AK47 makes his big “offer” she’ll shoot him straight down for coming out with such schmaltzy twaddle in the Dáil.
Even though the Ceann Comhairle called time on Kelly a number of times the phantom microphone muffler left his microphone unmolested. The Taoiseach wasn’t so lucky.
In what is a very rare occurrence in the Dáil, the final words of Micheál’s detailed reply on the vaccination plan went unheard as he was also “Brollied” by the unseen hand at the audio desk.
He didn’t appear too put out, even though taoisigh are usually given more latitude because of their lofty status.
A comforting thought for Mary Lou. There will be no cutting off of the Sinn Féin leader’s microphone when she becomes taoiseach. Opposition rivals might not be so blessed.
Du-du du-du de-de-de-de Boom!
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