Aftermath of cluster bomb Budget leaves all sides seeing red

DÁIL SKETCH:HEALTH CUTS hurt the old, the sick and the government . . . Take a notorious Fianna Fáil slogan, give it a 21st-century twist and see how hard-learned political lessons can soon be forgotten.

If Charlie Haughey were alive, he could have told today's Cabinet what they were letting themselves in for.

Instead, Brian Cowen and his Ministers are rediscovering the truth the hard way.

In the midst of Tuesday's cluster bomb Budget Brian Lenihan dropped a proposal to do away with automatic medical cards for all citizens over the age of 70. Eligibility will now be means tested.

And there it was: a cut in health spending that would hurt the old and the sick.

The aftermath has not been pretty for the Government. What did they expect? It didn't take long before the air turned nasty.

"The most swingeing and savage Budget in years," roared Enda Kenny, easing the Taoiseach gently into Leaders' Questions before Eamon Gilmore tore into him.

"Treacherous 30 cuts!" thundered Eamon, as smoke began to rise from reporters' notebooks. "Is it the fact that, to date, the only organisation to welcome the Budget is the Construction Industry Federation?" And we thought of former PD minister Tom Parlon, now running the CIF, who has been hanging around Leinster House for the last fortnight, always with a large folder of documents under his arm and a goofy grin on his face.

He was still haunting the place on Budget Day, his smile wider than ever. Maybe lucky Tom is on a bonus-related salary.

Biffo and his Ministers weren't smiling yesterday. We should really spare a little compassion for them.

Consider their situation: for a decade, sailing along on a sea of easy money. Nuttin' to do but roll aroun' heaven all day. Now the money is all dried up, and nobody wants to be their friend except that funny Mr Parlon.

The Government is a bit lost, and frightened.

Minister for Justice Dermot Ahern succumbed to a bout of hysterics as the Opposition berated Biffo over the Budget.

"You're talking out of both sides of your mouth. Both sides!" he began to shout, waving his arms. "Richard!" he called across to the Fine Gael finance spokesman, "You're on your own. On your own!"

He was soon joined by junior Minister Conor Lenihan, who is an excitable sort at the best of times. He got stuck into Enda.

"Get your colleagues to take a cut in their salary. You can't even get the people behind you to take a cut, or calm down. You've no leadership skills whatsoever."

Clearly, Conor is very exercised by having to take a 10 per cent decrease in his basic salary.

General pandemonium ensued, to the great delight of the primary school children in the public gallery, who sat forward eagerly in their seats, mouths agape, eyes sparkling, riveted by the show.

They clenched their little fists with glee as Dermot Ahern lost the plot.

He had been giggling with Willie O'Dea over what appeared to be a photocopied newspaper article, when a comment from Fine Gael's James Reilly made him see red.

All the while, poor Biffo was trying to make himself heard over the din. "I'm just making a point. You're shouting me down," he complained, as insults continued to fly across the floor.

Dermot rose a little from his seat, clutching the piece of paper. "You be quiet now. You keep quiet now," he bellowed at Reilly, flourishing the page.

The Taoiseach turned towards Dermot as he took a breath and hissed "Stop now!"

But Ahern was oblivious. He had Reilly, former boss of the Irish Medical Organisation, in his sights.

"We'll show you what you said in 2001," continued Dermot, waving the page in the air.

Insubordination from all quarters. The Ceann Comhairle, who hasn't been to a decent race meeting in a fortnight because of the crisis, was reduced to a whimpering wreck. The Taoiseach had to take command.

He snatched the page from the incandescent Dermot. "I have it, I have it, I have it, Dermot," soothed Biffo, sotto voce. "I have it." Dermot subsided.

But by now, Fine Gael backbencher James Bonkers, sorry, James Bannon, was roaring. When James gets going, nothing short of a tranquilliser gun will stop him. By now, Dermot was lolling in his chair, squeaking the word "hypocrites" over and over again.

A follow-up question from Gilmore temporarily restored order. Long enough for the redhaired Bannon to gather himself for a second attack. He let loose again when the Labour leader demanded the writ be moved for the Dublin South byelection. "Puh-hih-to the country!" interjected Bannon, calling for a general election. Then he worked himself up into a frenzy over the closure of Longford Army barracks.

"You took a service of my town yesterday, equivalent to a major industry," he fumed, as one of his colleagues put his hands over his ears.

He left the Taoiseach reeling with this final, stinging rebuke: "Ya let the midlands down anyways." Out in RTÉ, Brian Lenihan was doing an interview for the one o'clock news. "I'm amazed how understanding people have been in their reaction," he said, bless him.

Not long later, Livelinewent on air, and the worried, voting pensioners of Ireland rushed to talk to to Joe. "Mother of God above tonight, we won't have a shilling left!" wailed one. Just as well poor Brian had left for Brussels. Which just left the main event of the day. John Gormley's carbon budget, delivered later in the afternoon.

The chamber was packed with at least 11 deputies. FF junior Minister Michael Finneran nodded off for most of the speech, as did Green Minister Eamon Ryan. FF junior Minister Michael Ahern appeared to be awake - two out of three ain't bad - but it's always hard to tell.