It’s a sad day. Everyone agrees. Not as sad – hand on hort – as Ireland losing to the All Blacks last weekend. But then you couldn’t say that within earshot of Sorcha’s old pair, with the form they’re in? Her old man looks like he wants to kill me – I’m getting serious flashbacks to the night I ruined their 25h wedding anniversary dinner by performing my famous Chino the Elephant porty piece in the middle of Pearl Brasserie – and her dear keeps bursting into tears, like she did that night too.
The woman goes, “I just don’t see why you have to resign, Dorling.”
And Sorcha’s there, “Because I used my privileged position as a member of Seanad Éireann to describe acts of vandalism against SUVs as heroic. And it’s turned out that those acts of vandalism were perpetrated by own daughter.”
“Allegedly,” her old man goes. “By which I mean that nothing has been proven in court yet and I still think that Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara will work his magic and get her off.”
‘When they see the copper, the triplets think it’s about them gobbing on the cauliflower and turmeric latte crowd - which I’m not even sure is a crime’
‘We’ve no idea what caused the fire. And we’re sticking to that story’
‘People in the crowd are staring at Honor like she’s a cold sore on debs night’
‘The thought of booking a table for one at Shanahan’s on the Green got me through my prison sentence’
I’m like, “Perpetrated? Are we sure we’re using that word correctly?” and I can tell from the way he keeps staring at me that he’s still trying to come up with some way to blame me for all of this?
So I just put my head down and go back to clearing out Sorcha’s desk. Into the box goes her signed copy of David Attenborough’s autobiography, and the framed thank-you letter she got from Greenpeace International when she sent them her Communion money, and her globe showing what the planet will look like when the polar ice cap completely melts.
She takes a photograph – again, framed – out of the box and smiles as she looks at it. She goes, “This was taken when I went on the Joint Oireachtas Climate Action Exploratory Committee trip to Bhutan and Suriname to discover how they achieved corbon neutrality? I was young and wide-eyed and everything seemed possible.”
There were 30 of them on the trip and they all flew business class. I say nothing, though. Know better.
I’m there, ‘Change the world? Would you ever wind your focking neck in! It’s the Seanad!’
— Ross
Her old man’s there, “Your mother’s just making the point that it seems absurd that your political career should end over something as trivial as this. Can’t you wait until we know the outcome of the criminal case and then say that your daughter’s actions – while misguided and undoubtedly wrong – encapsulate the sense of frustration and helplessness that young people feel at our generation’s failure to tackle the climate emergency in a meaningful way?”
She goes, “Dad, the statement I made in this House, combined with Honor’s actions, have made my position untenable.”
I’m there, “Untenable,” and I have a little chuckle to myself because I’m sure she’s making up half these words and that’s when her old man finally turns on me.
He’s like, “This is all your fault, you sniggering halfwit.”
I’m there, “My fault? Er, how do you figure that one out?”
“Because that daughter of yours has been going wrong since the day she was born,” he goes, “and you’ve encouraged it by indulging her to a point where she doesn’t understand the correlation between action and consequence.”
I’m there, “I’m not going to lie, I find her very funny, especially when she’s being a wagon and I’m not the one in the firing line.”
Her old dear gets in on the act then. She’s like, “Well, I’m happy to say that there’s nothing of our daughter in that child. She’s all you. I’m sorry, Sorcha, but when you went into politics, I told everybody that you were going to change the world.”
I’m there, “Change the world? Would you ever wind your focking neck in! It’s the Seanad!”
Sorcha goes, “All this bickering is, like, pointless? Mom, Dad – please. I’m doing the right and honourable thing here.”
Sorcha switches on her microphone and goes, “My fellow Senators, I would like to thank you for offering me the time to make a personal statement to the House today”. I’m not even exaggerating – there is literally nobody here
So – yeah, no – we follow her down the corridor. Sorcha heads for the chamber and we duck into the public gallery. The place is totally empty, by the way.
Her old man goes, “I’m remembering the day she made her maiden speech in this House.”
I’m there, “Yeah, no, there was a woman hoovering the place that day as well.”
As a matter of fact – yeah, no – it’s the same woman? Sorcha tips over to her and tells her that she’s about to make a speech.
“But there’s no one here,” the woman – not unreasonably – goes.
Sorcha’s there, “I want to read it into the record of the House. It’s a very important speech.”
The woman turns off the vacuum cleaner and goes, “Is there much of it?”
Sorcha shows her. It turns out there is much of it. Seven or eight pages. The woman rolls her eyes and shakes her head like she knew Sorcha was going to be trouble from day one.
“You have the floor,” she goes – obviously being sarcastic. I end up having to fight back a snigger.
I’ve been given a – oh my God – huge responsibility to help create a liveable, sustainable planet for the next generation
— Sorcha
Sorcha’s old pair hold hands. Her old dear dabs at her eyes with a tissue as Sorcha switches on her microphone and goes, “My fellow Senators, I would like to thank you for offering me the time to make a personal statement to the House today.”
I’m not even exaggerating – there is literally nobody here.
She goes, “As someone who has been interested in politics – especially the politics of climate activism – since I was eight years old, this is a deeply, deeply sad day for –”
And at that point, she looks at her old pair, the two of them sniffling away like I don’t know what?
“– a deeply, deeply sad day,” she goes, “for I myself personally. But due to a private matter, which I am, at the present time, unable to discuss, I now feel that it is no longer tenable for me to continue to be a member of –”
She looks at her old pair again. And suddenly she stops, folds her speech in two, goes, “Actually, forget I said anything,” and she walks out of the chamber.
Outside, her old pair are ecstatic. They’re, like, hugging her and telling her that this is one of the happiest days of their lives.
Sorcha’s old man goes, “What changed your mind?”
She’s there, “It was that thing that Mom said about me changing the world. I’ve been given a – oh my God – huge responsibility to help create a liveable, sustainable planet for the next generation. And I think, when it comes to it, I can reframe Honor’s vandalism as passion for the future of this planet we call – yeah, no – Earth?”
