Enda sheds the Lycra but not his FF-baiting habits of old

DÁIL SKETCH:THE GOOD news is that Enda is finally off the bicycle.

The bad news is that he’s back up on his high horse, because the Dáil has returned.

Still, at least they can breathe easy in the hamlets again. For the entire summer, the Taoiseach had the country terrorised, freewheeling around minor roads on his racer and frightening the women and children with indiscriminate displays of Lycra.

It’s not right.

Entire villages in Kerry have had to go into therapy and they’ve been afraid to leave their homes along the boreens of Mayo since July.

The upshot of all this is that Enda might look fresh and fit for the fray following his athletic endeavours, but it didn’t take him long yesterday to slip back into his annoying old ways in the chamber, using the past misdeeds of Fianna Fáil as a convenient way to avoid addressing valid questions about his Government.

Micheál Martin lost his cool with him. “It’s very difficult when a taoiseach has absolutely no respect for the House,” he roared in exasperation as once again Enda blithely ignored his concerns.

The Fianna Fáil leader has obviously decided it’s time to emerge from political purdah and stand up to the Taoiseach’s constant attacks on his past record. A red flush spread across Micheál’s angelic cheeks and he told Enda he was a disgrace.

Outside the gates of Leinster House, pensioners protested over the effect the pension levy will have on their meagre incomes. Deputy Martin heard from some of them they were facing as much as a €1,000 reduction in their €10,000 annual pensions.

Where is the concern for them? Why didn’t the Taoiseach note the disquiet expressed over these cuts by officials and some of his senior Ministers when they were first mooted?

Months ago, the Fianna Fáil leader asked to see the advice given to him at the time the levy was being considered. He got nowhere, and it was only by tabling a Freedom of Information request that he managed to find out the background.

“You deliberately misled the Dáil because you didn’t want the truth to come out at the time,” he thundered.

Enda wasn’t bothered. Didn’t he get the information in the end? “And it didn’t fall behind the radiator, like some other stuff we saw in the past,” he snorted at the incandescent leader of the Opposition, referring to an incident involving Deputy Martin many years ago when he was minister for health.

Micheál held up the substantial file. “That wouldn’t fit behind a radiator.” Enda shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve a long session in front of you. Calm down!” His backbenchers joined in the baiting.

“Now you know what we had to put up with,” laughed Bernard Durkan. “He misses Gay Byrne. He misses Gay Byrne,” laughed Jerry Buttimer.

There was no discussion of the levy from the Taoiseach, who insisted he stood over his actions. “I make no apology for making decisions that are going to change the direction and the fortunes of our country which you funked over 12 years.” Jaws dropped on the press gallery. Eyes widened across the floor. Even the backbench bootboys quietened down for a few seconds.

What did he just say? What did they do to the country over 12 years? Funked. He said funked.

Phew.

Even Gerry Adams is feeling sorry for the treatment being meted out to Micheál and his party as they try to go about the necessary job of Opposition.

“You can’t blame those guys,” he said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the deflated Fianna Fáilers. “You have to make choices.” Willie O’Dea yelped in protest.

“Deputy O’Dea, you’ve become very rowdy since you had a break,” said the Ceann Comhairle, still gloriously cranky despite the long weeks of rest.

The new session was barely an hour old before he had ejected his first deputy of the term. Waterford’s John Halligan engineered his sending off when he refused to stick to the rules of engagement in the Dáil’s latest wheeze to try to appear more relevant and less like an unruly class of junior infants.

The big innovation is the introduction of a “topical issues” segment to the daily proceedings.

It ran onto the rocks on its maiden voyage when Deputy Halligan said he had no intention of limiting his contribution on the TalkTalk job losses in his constituency to just one minute and 10 seconds.

Ceann Comhairle Seán Barrett said he would have to throw him out so.

“Well, I’m not going,” said John. Muscle arrived in the form of the ushers. As it turned out, despite his protestations to the contrary, Deputy Halligan left without a whimper when business resumed. It turned out he had already lined up an interview with his local radio station.

A good result for John. His constituency colleagues were less than thrilled.

Meanwhile, Labour’s Aodhán O’Riordan had also fallen foul of the authorities. He was forced to remove his Dublin flag from his car if he wished to keep his vehicle in the Oireachtas car park.

But the same authorities had little effect on the dressed-down Independent deputies, who appeared in all their casual finery as usual, with the polo-shirted Mick Wallace looking particularly pink and dishevelled.

Back outside the gates, the protesters continued to make noise. When they saw RTÉ’s Bryan Dobson setting up near by for a live broadcast on the evening news, they seized the opportunity and roared to the heavens. Bryan had to cancel his interviews and the disappointed politicians had to slope disconsolately back indoors.

When the Seanad resumed, all eyes were on David Norris. He made a brief contribution during the order of business and left. "No comment" was his response to media all-comers. Whatever he has to say about his presidential aspirations he will be saying on The Late Late Showtomorrow night.

Senator Norris has had a few weeks in Cyprus to reflect on his future. He was tanned but he still looked strained and wasn’t his normal, ebullient self. It was clear the upheaval surrounding his withdrawal from the race has had a big effect on him.

And there it was, on the curved corridor above the entrance to the Dáil chamber. That Portrait. Bertie, looking statesmanlike against a sky blue background. He’s slightly obscured, though, by the large potted palm beside the canvas.

In the Dáil chamber, it wasn’t the best of starts at the beginning of what will be a rough few months. Dispiriting, almost, in its messy exchanges and same old barracking. “All I can say is that it’s just as well there was only six weeks of a break. I’d hate to think what it would be like if you had three months,” sighed the Ceann Comhairle.