Sunday Tribune 11 October
History is speckled with great recovery plans: there were the Young and Marshall Plans to get Europe back on its feet after the world wars. There was the Tallaght Strategy plan of the 1980s when Irish party politics was put aside for the good of the country. Then there was… The Blotto
Last April, I suggested that, instead of Nama buying toxic assets and leaving them idle, it should raffle them. We could call it the Building Lotto – or 'Blotto'. Each week, our blindfolded finance minister would pick a toxic deed from the pile in his office. This would then be Blottoed at €25 a ticket. The winner would win a half-finished development, potentially worth millions. If even half of the 80-million-strong diaspora played, that would generate €1bn a draw. 'Blotto! It could be
As crap ideas go, I argued, it was no worse than Nama. I smugly believed it couldn't be surpassed for lateral thinking. Then, last week, a schoolmistress in Cork came up with another plan: the Patch Up The Economy With Bog Roll
Not only has this eclipsed Blotto, it's also undermined my other recovery strategies such as the Adopt A Paddy Scheme. This features TV ads with a forlorn Paddy staring into his pint as the barman shouts: "Drink up, have you no homes to go to?" Paddy glumly shakes his head and the voiceover begins: "Paddy has no home to go to… since the bank repossessed it. For just €200 a day…
Or, the Roots For Your Roots Campaign. For just €10, a tree will be planted for you in Old Erin. Eighty million people multiplied by 10 = €800m. (With that many, they'd have to be bonsai trees.) Or the Be Honorary Mayor of Your Ancestral Town for A Month Scheme (€50) or the Buy a Piece of Irish Muck Scheme (€10). Or the Be Irish campaign. We could set up an agency to discover people's Irish roots, whether they have them or not, invite them over – and hold them for
On Tuesday, the Irish Independent reported that the principal of St John's, Carrigaline has a better idea. She has asked parents to give their children a toilet roll, now and again, for the school. This, she said, is part of a cost-containment plan – a statement which drew howls of righteous indignation from some editorial
Here's the thing though: although it is literally a crap idea, it is a brilliant one. Not only is it an imaginative response to the downturn, it also teaches children the value of generosity, prudence and, of course, bog roll. Michael O'Leary is said to be very impressed. Most of all, it's a new idea and all new ideas should be welcomed. The Carrigaliners have decided that, instead of just griping about money, some lateral thinking is
There were other examples of good lateral thinking last week. Offenders doing community service are to be given the task of removing graffiti from Dublin's buildings. Law-breakers cleaning up after law-breakers and saving money for the council. Why did no one think of this
On Wednesday, it was revealed that we have applied for EU funds to pay for flights home for non-nationals. People who want to leave here, but can't afford to, can soon avail of the scheme. We save on our dole bill. Good lateral
There was also an example of lateral thinking being punished by bureaucracy. Joan Ryan raised €300,000 to buy an exercise machine for disabled people after her daughter was paralysed. She saved the HSE money and now her charity has been hit with a €60k Vat
There was political lateral thinking too. Eamon Gilmore warned Siptu that Labour would not be its puppet in government. He is opposed to it striking. Gilmore was once a radical left-winger. This was a powerful, pragmatic statement. He has changed his mindset. Trade unionists must now do the
Carrigaline's example should be the new bog standard response to the downturn. The '80s had the Tallaght Strategy, this can be our Toilet Strategy: new, positive, pragmatic ideas to deal with our new problems. Community spirit like that shown in Cork won't pay off the billions we owe, but it will improve our quality of life, little by
Fianna Fáil is incapable of following this principle. Its deputies are hotwired to be self-serving. Look no further than Bertie, or John O'Donoghue, or the backbenchers revolting over expenses
It's also incapable of lateral thinking about the economy. Last week, it sat down with the Greens to refine the Nama plan. It's six months since this was first mooted. In that time we have had only two alternatives to it: a National Recovery Bank, championed by Fine Gael, and nationalisation. Six months and nobody has any fresh suggestions. What does that say about the mindset of our politicians? The schoolchildren of Carrigaline are wiping their backsides for them when it comes to dealing with the
The communities of Ireland, from Carrigaline to Killybegs, can lead our so-called leaders by example and start rebuilding, little by little. For my part, I'm posting my money-making schemes, written on loo roll, to Government Buildings this afternoon. Every little helps. Everyone has a (toilet) role to play.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Let's redefine treachery to get Bertie and the bankers
Sunday Tribune, 4 October
"There are llamas loose on the M50." I thought Seán O'Rourke would burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh on the News at One on Thursday. Llamas 'on the lam'. It wasn't quite "there's a moose loose aboot the hoose" but it was close.
Several hours later, the Cab (Criminal Alpacas Bureau) had rounded up the fugitive camelids. The Corpo appropriated them, valued them at €5,000 and the Australian Circus Sydney had to stump up or they were going to be sold on. It was a kind of 'Llama Nama'.
This was a perfect allegory for the week: a circus being held to ransom by clowns.
Down on O'Connell Street, protesting taxi drivers caused traffic misery in a bid to get the regulator's attention. I have a certain amount of sympathy for taximen, but not when they use us as hostages.
On Monday we had representatives of the public sector holding us to ransom over pay – at the ultimate expense of those on welfare. On Tuesday we had a farcical, raucous debate on RTé about Lisbon – both sides blackmailing us with various threats.
Along with this we had the resignation of the Fás board and yet more revelations about our politicians' expenses. 'Mé Féin' was ringmaster at Big Top Ireland and every selfish act it introduced bolstered the proposition that we're not fit to govern ourselves. We've given the country over to solipsistic jerks in the Dáil and on the ranks. Thick-skinned bullies who believe that we are here merely to do their bidding.
By Thursday evening, I had reached saturation point. Self-interest tedium had set in. I was no longer shocked or angry by selfish unions or taximen or TDs – just exasperated. You probably were too. This is a natural response to information overload. It happened with the Troubles in the North. Each report of an atrocity drew less of a response.
When I read that banker Seán FitzPatrick is entitled to free flights with Aer Lingus while having €106m in loans, I filed it under 'Nothing Would Surprise Me Anymore' and moved on.
Then, just as I was unfurling my white flag, up popped P Bartholomew Ahern TD. My knuckles whitened. On Tuesday, Bertie chaired a debate on Lisbon at the UCD Law Society where he declared himself 'neutral'. He wouldn't be taking any questions. (Bertie doesn't like questions.)
The following day, the first signs that the man who blew the boom is successfully reinventing himself appeared. The Indo gave him a soft ride in a playful report about the debate. It didn't question why a disgraced taoiseach would be so warmly welcomed by our future lawyers.
The Irish Times noted that he drew a tiny demo over fees outside the hall, while, inside, the students cheered him to the rafters. These are the same law students who will sign on as soon as they graduate, thanks to Ahern's policies.
How can we have forgotten so soon? Bertie has been hiding in plain sight since cocking up the economy. He has been walking around in his own solipsistic bubble, impervious to our anger. He knew that all he had to do was ride out the storm and eventually he would be home and dry. The public and the media would get tired of being angry with him. He was right.
Bertie brazened his way through a tribunal that nearly had to hold him upside down and shake him for answers. He told us he won money on horses and our jaws clattered on the floor. And here he was, reconstituted as elder statesman, wearing his old Teflon suit and smug grin. In any other country (bar, maybe, Libya) he would be hounded out of public life. In Ireland, he is asked to be an honest broker at debates.
Last week, Brian Lenihan said he was determined to punish those who had undermined the state. John Gormley also said that FitzPatrick would be made to pay back all his loans. A jaded public arched its eyebrow. It doesn't take a genius to see they were playing to the gallery. How can we believe that FitzPatrick will feel the consequences of his actions while Ahern is still giving us two fingers?
If Lenihan is really serious about dealing with economic wrongdoers, he could look to the Treason Act of 1939. This defines treachery in terms of warfare, but could be amended to punish those who, through financial mismanagement or wilful profiteering, threaten the survival of the state.
Such an amendment would make it easier for justice to be applied in the case of fallen politicians and bankers. Under such a definition of treachery Bertie Ahern and his Old Boys Club would be traitors. They should be punished as such.
We can complain about Siptu or taximen, but until we have made Ahern and his ilk accountable for the destruction of our economy, we can't expect them to behave in a more civic-minded fashion. 'Monkey see, monkey do', etc.
I started this column with a play on words about llamas and Nama. Here's another one: what's the difference between Nama and Bertie Ahern?
One deals with loss-making toxic assets – the other is a toxic ass that won't get lost.
Some day we might make him pay. I'm not holding my breath though.
dkenny@tribune.ie
October 4, 2009
"There are llamas loose on the M50." I thought Seán O'Rourke would burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh on the News at One on Thursday. Llamas 'on the lam'. It wasn't quite "there's a moose loose aboot the hoose" but it was close.
Several hours later, the Cab (Criminal Alpacas Bureau) had rounded up the fugitive camelids. The Corpo appropriated them, valued them at €5,000 and the Australian Circus Sydney had to stump up or they were going to be sold on. It was a kind of 'Llama Nama'.
This was a perfect allegory for the week: a circus being held to ransom by clowns.
Down on O'Connell Street, protesting taxi drivers caused traffic misery in a bid to get the regulator's attention. I have a certain amount of sympathy for taximen, but not when they use us as hostages.
On Monday we had representatives of the public sector holding us to ransom over pay – at the ultimate expense of those on welfare. On Tuesday we had a farcical, raucous debate on RTé about Lisbon – both sides blackmailing us with various threats.
Along with this we had the resignation of the Fás board and yet more revelations about our politicians' expenses. 'Mé Féin' was ringmaster at Big Top Ireland and every selfish act it introduced bolstered the proposition that we're not fit to govern ourselves. We've given the country over to solipsistic jerks in the Dáil and on the ranks. Thick-skinned bullies who believe that we are here merely to do their bidding.
By Thursday evening, I had reached saturation point. Self-interest tedium had set in. I was no longer shocked or angry by selfish unions or taximen or TDs – just exasperated. You probably were too. This is a natural response to information overload. It happened with the Troubles in the North. Each report of an atrocity drew less of a response.
When I read that banker Seán FitzPatrick is entitled to free flights with Aer Lingus while having €106m in loans, I filed it under 'Nothing Would Surprise Me Anymore' and moved on.
Then, just as I was unfurling my white flag, up popped P Bartholomew Ahern TD. My knuckles whitened. On Tuesday, Bertie chaired a debate on Lisbon at the UCD Law Society where he declared himself 'neutral'. He wouldn't be taking any questions. (Bertie doesn't like questions.)
The following day, the first signs that the man who blew the boom is successfully reinventing himself appeared. The Indo gave him a soft ride in a playful report about the debate. It didn't question why a disgraced taoiseach would be so warmly welcomed by our future lawyers.
The Irish Times noted that he drew a tiny demo over fees outside the hall, while, inside, the students cheered him to the rafters. These are the same law students who will sign on as soon as they graduate, thanks to Ahern's policies.
How can we have forgotten so soon? Bertie has been hiding in plain sight since cocking up the economy. He has been walking around in his own solipsistic bubble, impervious to our anger. He knew that all he had to do was ride out the storm and eventually he would be home and dry. The public and the media would get tired of being angry with him. He was right.
Bertie brazened his way through a tribunal that nearly had to hold him upside down and shake him for answers. He told us he won money on horses and our jaws clattered on the floor. And here he was, reconstituted as elder statesman, wearing his old Teflon suit and smug grin. In any other country (bar, maybe, Libya) he would be hounded out of public life. In Ireland, he is asked to be an honest broker at debates.
Last week, Brian Lenihan said he was determined to punish those who had undermined the state. John Gormley also said that FitzPatrick would be made to pay back all his loans. A jaded public arched its eyebrow. It doesn't take a genius to see they were playing to the gallery. How can we believe that FitzPatrick will feel the consequences of his actions while Ahern is still giving us two fingers?
If Lenihan is really serious about dealing with economic wrongdoers, he could look to the Treason Act of 1939. This defines treachery in terms of warfare, but could be amended to punish those who, through financial mismanagement or wilful profiteering, threaten the survival of the state.
Such an amendment would make it easier for justice to be applied in the case of fallen politicians and bankers. Under such a definition of treachery Bertie Ahern and his Old Boys Club would be traitors. They should be punished as such.
We can complain about Siptu or taximen, but until we have made Ahern and his ilk accountable for the destruction of our economy, we can't expect them to behave in a more civic-minded fashion. 'Monkey see, monkey do', etc.
I started this column with a play on words about llamas and Nama. Here's another one: what's the difference between Nama and Bertie Ahern?
One deals with loss-making toxic assets – the other is a toxic ass that won't get lost.
Some day we might make him pay. I'm not holding my breath though.
dkenny@tribune.ie
October 4, 2009
The ram, the bull and the elephant in the room
Sunday Tribune, 27 September
Baltimore is no stranger to buccaneers. In 1631 two boatloads from Algeria sailed into its harbour and kidnapped 100 of its citizens. The locals still talk about the incident. Last July, the town suffered another devastating naval assault which will also be recalled over pints for years to come.
A salty old sea dog from foreign shores (Dublin) allegedly banged his vessel into a yacht and badly damaged a speed boat. He didn't hang around and headed to Sherkin Island (surely not Sherkin his responsibilities?). Later, according to reports last week, Senator Ivor Callely wore what looked like a kimono when gardaí interviewed him about the ramming.
I am still pouring bleach into my mind's eye to get rid of the image.
The most shocking thing about this story was not the chain of events or even the kimono. What really stunned me was the news that Ivor Callely's a senator. A SENATOR. I thought that when he lost his Dáil seat in 2007 he had retired from politics. Now I discover he's been hiding in the Seanad.
Callely was one of the oilier members of Bertie Ahern's club. He resigned as junior transport minister in 2005 after it was discovered that a well-known construction firm had painted his house for free. Then he lost his seat and decided to run for the Seanad. He lost that election too. So, unloved by the public and unwanted for the Seanad, Callely walked away, right? Wrong, Ahern consoled him with one of his 11 discretionary seats in the upper house.
Despite having shown him the door, we are still paying for this two-time loser to have a career. He is the embodiment of political cronyism and self-interest and is another good reason for abolishing the Seanad – an institution that most of us know little about.
Here's a question: how many senators can you name? Four? Five? Here's another: what exactly does the Seanad do? One thing it does exceptionally well is hoover up money.
Since 2007, Ivor and friends have claimed €5.6m in expenses on top of their €70,000 annual salary. That's an average of €47,000 for a part-time job.
You may think that's a waste of money but Seanad leader, Donie Cassidy, doesn't agree. He told a Sunday newspaper that "no one makes any money out of politics and if anybody says they do, I would like to meet them." Senator Cassidy, may I introduce Senator Callely? He has a yacht, you know.
There have been 11 reports on Seanad reform, yet it's still there devouring money. Colm McCarthy said its abolition would save €25m. That's our €25m and most of us don't get a say in who is elected to it. Its membership is decided by the political establishment and two universities. Generally, it is a retirement home for failed politicians and a halfway house for Dáil wannabes. As a national debating parlour, Liveline is 20 times more potent and democratic.
The Seanad has no powers other than to delay bills. Actually that's not true: it has the power to shut itself down when it fancies a round of golf. In May it decided to take a day off so that Donie and Co could go on an outing to Portmarnock. There were 'wigs on the green' over that.
Some genuinely gifted people have graced the Seanad – Mary Robinson, Feargal Quinn, David Norris, or Camp David as I like to call him. They don't, however, justify its existence. It's not even like we have any great historic ties to it either: it's only been around for 72 years. Common sense says that, considering our finances, we should scrap it. It also says that if our senators were interested in the state's welfare, they would debate the Seanad's worth, conclude it's worthless and vote to abolish it. As the Seanad is powerless, the result wouldn't be binding, but the process would give them something to do between golf outings.
What a banana republic. There are hundreds of thousands on the dole and we are paying people like 'Ram' Callely to do a meaningless job. We're paying for the upkeep of his yacht.
We live in a country where John 'Bull' O'Donoghue can waste hundreds of thousands of euros and only half apologise. Where a disgraced Fás chief can walk away with a golden handshake. Where those bankers who have betrayed our country are not behind bars for treason.
Our politicians have, grudgingly, taken token pay cuts. If they want to show real solidarity with their fellow citizens they should put the Seanad's fate to a referendum. There's a painful budget coming up and heeding An Bord Snip's thoughts about this club might soften the blow. It would show a willingness to come up with some new thinking.
Admiral Callely, for his part, believes in "new thinking". He says so on his website.
"I truly believe, together, with a redoubling of our commitment and effort, and with new thinking, we will see these tough times through and restore our country to more prosperous times. I invite you to join me in [sic] this journey…"
Join you on your journey, Callely? With you at the helm? Not bloody likely.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Baltimore is no stranger to buccaneers. In 1631 two boatloads from Algeria sailed into its harbour and kidnapped 100 of its citizens. The locals still talk about the incident. Last July, the town suffered another devastating naval assault which will also be recalled over pints for years to come.
A salty old sea dog from foreign shores (Dublin) allegedly banged his vessel into a yacht and badly damaged a speed boat. He didn't hang around and headed to Sherkin Island (surely not Sherkin his responsibilities?). Later, according to reports last week, Senator Ivor Callely wore what looked like a kimono when gardaí interviewed him about the ramming.
I am still pouring bleach into my mind's eye to get rid of the image.
The most shocking thing about this story was not the chain of events or even the kimono. What really stunned me was the news that Ivor Callely's a senator. A SENATOR. I thought that when he lost his Dáil seat in 2007 he had retired from politics. Now I discover he's been hiding in the Seanad.
Callely was one of the oilier members of Bertie Ahern's club. He resigned as junior transport minister in 2005 after it was discovered that a well-known construction firm had painted his house for free. Then he lost his seat and decided to run for the Seanad. He lost that election too. So, unloved by the public and unwanted for the Seanad, Callely walked away, right? Wrong, Ahern consoled him with one of his 11 discretionary seats in the upper house.
Despite having shown him the door, we are still paying for this two-time loser to have a career. He is the embodiment of political cronyism and self-interest and is another good reason for abolishing the Seanad – an institution that most of us know little about.
Here's a question: how many senators can you name? Four? Five? Here's another: what exactly does the Seanad do? One thing it does exceptionally well is hoover up money.
Since 2007, Ivor and friends have claimed €5.6m in expenses on top of their €70,000 annual salary. That's an average of €47,000 for a part-time job.
You may think that's a waste of money but Seanad leader, Donie Cassidy, doesn't agree. He told a Sunday newspaper that "no one makes any money out of politics and if anybody says they do, I would like to meet them." Senator Cassidy, may I introduce Senator Callely? He has a yacht, you know.
There have been 11 reports on Seanad reform, yet it's still there devouring money. Colm McCarthy said its abolition would save €25m. That's our €25m and most of us don't get a say in who is elected to it. Its membership is decided by the political establishment and two universities. Generally, it is a retirement home for failed politicians and a halfway house for Dáil wannabes. As a national debating parlour, Liveline is 20 times more potent and democratic.
The Seanad has no powers other than to delay bills. Actually that's not true: it has the power to shut itself down when it fancies a round of golf. In May it decided to take a day off so that Donie and Co could go on an outing to Portmarnock. There were 'wigs on the green' over that.
Some genuinely gifted people have graced the Seanad – Mary Robinson, Feargal Quinn, David Norris, or Camp David as I like to call him. They don't, however, justify its existence. It's not even like we have any great historic ties to it either: it's only been around for 72 years. Common sense says that, considering our finances, we should scrap it. It also says that if our senators were interested in the state's welfare, they would debate the Seanad's worth, conclude it's worthless and vote to abolish it. As the Seanad is powerless, the result wouldn't be binding, but the process would give them something to do between golf outings.
What a banana republic. There are hundreds of thousands on the dole and we are paying people like 'Ram' Callely to do a meaningless job. We're paying for the upkeep of his yacht.
We live in a country where John 'Bull' O'Donoghue can waste hundreds of thousands of euros and only half apologise. Where a disgraced Fás chief can walk away with a golden handshake. Where those bankers who have betrayed our country are not behind bars for treason.
Our politicians have, grudgingly, taken token pay cuts. If they want to show real solidarity with their fellow citizens they should put the Seanad's fate to a referendum. There's a painful budget coming up and heeding An Bord Snip's thoughts about this club might soften the blow. It would show a willingness to come up with some new thinking.
Admiral Callely, for his part, believes in "new thinking". He says so on his website.
"I truly believe, together, with a redoubling of our commitment and effort, and with new thinking, we will see these tough times through and restore our country to more prosperous times. I invite you to join me in [sic] this journey…"
Join you on your journey, Callely? With you at the helm? Not bloody likely.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Friday, September 18, 2009
Nostalgia makes the hero infallible. It also masks his failures
Sunday Tribune 6 September
I was nine when my father brought me to his office for the first time. My stomach was in a knot as we drove up Nutley Lane. I was the luckiest boy in the world. Some kids' dads worked in paperclip warehouses or counted traffic cones for a living – mine worked in RTÉ .
My cheeks burned as I met people "from the telly" that afternoon. Professionally unsmiling newsreaders smiled at me and shook my hand. I discovered they even had legs or, in the case of towering Charles Mitchell, stilts. Snow-capped Don Cockburn wore bicycle clips as he saluted us from the shadow of the radio mast. Maurice O'Doherty's magnificent deadpan face creased into a grin as he traded affectionate insults with my father.
Then there was the Wanderly Wagon. It stole the show. We turned a corner and it practically "yahooed!!" at us, all showy bright paint, parked beside the slick glass TV building. Judge and O'Brien's caravan was taking a break from its adventures and I was allowed to touch it.
"Is Judge inside there?"
"He's probably in the canteen having his tea."
Over 30 years later I can still recall the excitement of seeing Wanderly Wagon glistening in the sun. Moments like those bind fathers and sons.
Last week, 1974's Safe Cross Code TV ad, featuring the Wanderlies, was relaunched. All together now: "One, look for a safe place. Two, don't hurry…" I was brought back to sunny summer holidays in Laytown. It never rains in your memories, nostalgia is a great umbrella.
Last week, the boy in the ad was 'outed' as Fianna Fáil TD, Chris Andrews. That's handy: when times are rough in the Dáil he can start singing and all will be forgiven in a swell of nostalgia.
On Thursday, his cousin Ryan Tubridy dipped into the past too. He told how Gay Byrne had advised him about the Late Late. The nostalgia chord was struck. Is he the new Gaybo? We were told that the original theme tune was returning, revamped. Nostalgia as a sales tool – if you forget that Gay's show was insufferable at times. Just because we associate something with our youth doesn't mean it was any good.
The same could be said of Oasis, who have announced their split. Last week I played 'Don't Look Back in Anger' in honour of my 20s. Memories of the '90s, and the Tiger party kicking off, came tumbling back. Nostalgia. Only the party is over and now we have Nama to cure our hangover.
As I moshed about in my past, another generation recalled theirs, watching Ted Kennedy's funeral. Poor Teddy. Bereaved brother, raconteur, peacemaker – he came good in the end. Nostalgia can make heroes of us all. Even if we have a dead girl in our car, or years wasted philandering.
Another American hero returned last week to re-run news reels in our heads. Ali, still handsome but almost entombed by disease, came to meet his cousins. "Float like a butterfly…" I remember crying when he lost to Leon Spinks in 1978.
Nostalgia makes gods out of heroes, despite their flaws. Ali nearly destroyed arch-enemy Joe Frazier with his cruel "Uncle Tom" taunts. He nearly broke his own wife too, when he flaunted his new girlfriend on TV in Manila while she watched at home. A hero with feet of clay. Cassius Clay.
Nostalgia is the opiate of the masses in post-boom Ireland. Instead of facing the present, we're constantly looking back. This is because the past is a Nama-free country. There are no repossessions when you live in a Wanderly Wagon or parking fines on our Safe Cross Code roads. There are no greasy politicians like John O'Donoghue, just prodigal statesmen like Teddy. There are only heroes, like Ali.
We turn to our childhood because it's preferable to being a grown-up at the moment. We want someone older and wiser to make things better. That's why so many people listened to Garret FitzGerald when he backed Nama last week. He represents an heroic age, spent battling recession and CJ Haughey. Garret is part Ali, Teddy and cuddly Wanderly Judge. Most of all, Garret is the nation's grandad. "If Garret says Nama is okay, then…"
Nostalgia makes the hero infallible. It also masks his failures. Garret made one of the greatest unforced errors in political history. He brought down his government by trying to tax children's shoes in 1981.
Nostalgia makes us forget the Messiah is human. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe, by blinkering us, nostalgia helps us fulfil a human desire to start trusting again. Maybe a leap of faith with Garret is what we need – we're potentially knackered any way you look at it.
When I was 11, I was tall enough to finally see over the half door of the Wanderly Wagon. I climbed up, trembling with excitement. My dad watched my heart crash through the floor. There was no Judge, no O'Brien. There wasn't even a table and chairs. Just bare wood. Wanderly Wagon was a shell, an illusion.
Thirty years on, Safe Cross Judge is back on TV, teaching a future politician how to cross the road. Thirty years on, Fianna Fáil still has muppet advisers.
Considering the past, that's still one hard illusion to shatter.
dkenny@tribune.ie
September 6, 2009
I was nine when my father brought me to his office for the first time. My stomach was in a knot as we drove up Nutley Lane. I was the luckiest boy in the world. Some kids' dads worked in paperclip warehouses or counted traffic cones for a living – mine worked in RTÉ .
My cheeks burned as I met people "from the telly" that afternoon. Professionally unsmiling newsreaders smiled at me and shook my hand. I discovered they even had legs or, in the case of towering Charles Mitchell, stilts. Snow-capped Don Cockburn wore bicycle clips as he saluted us from the shadow of the radio mast. Maurice O'Doherty's magnificent deadpan face creased into a grin as he traded affectionate insults with my father.
Then there was the Wanderly Wagon. It stole the show. We turned a corner and it practically "yahooed!!" at us, all showy bright paint, parked beside the slick glass TV building. Judge and O'Brien's caravan was taking a break from its adventures and I was allowed to touch it.
"Is Judge inside there?"
"He's probably in the canteen having his tea."
Over 30 years later I can still recall the excitement of seeing Wanderly Wagon glistening in the sun. Moments like those bind fathers and sons.
Last week, 1974's Safe Cross Code TV ad, featuring the Wanderlies, was relaunched. All together now: "One, look for a safe place. Two, don't hurry…" I was brought back to sunny summer holidays in Laytown. It never rains in your memories, nostalgia is a great umbrella.
Last week, the boy in the ad was 'outed' as Fianna Fáil TD, Chris Andrews. That's handy: when times are rough in the Dáil he can start singing and all will be forgiven in a swell of nostalgia.
On Thursday, his cousin Ryan Tubridy dipped into the past too. He told how Gay Byrne had advised him about the Late Late. The nostalgia chord was struck. Is he the new Gaybo? We were told that the original theme tune was returning, revamped. Nostalgia as a sales tool – if you forget that Gay's show was insufferable at times. Just because we associate something with our youth doesn't mean it was any good.
The same could be said of Oasis, who have announced their split. Last week I played 'Don't Look Back in Anger' in honour of my 20s. Memories of the '90s, and the Tiger party kicking off, came tumbling back. Nostalgia. Only the party is over and now we have Nama to cure our hangover.
As I moshed about in my past, another generation recalled theirs, watching Ted Kennedy's funeral. Poor Teddy. Bereaved brother, raconteur, peacemaker – he came good in the end. Nostalgia can make heroes of us all. Even if we have a dead girl in our car, or years wasted philandering.
Another American hero returned last week to re-run news reels in our heads. Ali, still handsome but almost entombed by disease, came to meet his cousins. "Float like a butterfly…" I remember crying when he lost to Leon Spinks in 1978.
Nostalgia makes gods out of heroes, despite their flaws. Ali nearly destroyed arch-enemy Joe Frazier with his cruel "Uncle Tom" taunts. He nearly broke his own wife too, when he flaunted his new girlfriend on TV in Manila while she watched at home. A hero with feet of clay. Cassius Clay.
Nostalgia is the opiate of the masses in post-boom Ireland. Instead of facing the present, we're constantly looking back. This is because the past is a Nama-free country. There are no repossessions when you live in a Wanderly Wagon or parking fines on our Safe Cross Code roads. There are no greasy politicians like John O'Donoghue, just prodigal statesmen like Teddy. There are only heroes, like Ali.
We turn to our childhood because it's preferable to being a grown-up at the moment. We want someone older and wiser to make things better. That's why so many people listened to Garret FitzGerald when he backed Nama last week. He represents an heroic age, spent battling recession and CJ Haughey. Garret is part Ali, Teddy and cuddly Wanderly Judge. Most of all, Garret is the nation's grandad. "If Garret says Nama is okay, then…"
Nostalgia makes the hero infallible. It also masks his failures. Garret made one of the greatest unforced errors in political history. He brought down his government by trying to tax children's shoes in 1981.
Nostalgia makes us forget the Messiah is human. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe, by blinkering us, nostalgia helps us fulfil a human desire to start trusting again. Maybe a leap of faith with Garret is what we need – we're potentially knackered any way you look at it.
When I was 11, I was tall enough to finally see over the half door of the Wanderly Wagon. I climbed up, trembling with excitement. My dad watched my heart crash through the floor. There was no Judge, no O'Brien. There wasn't even a table and chairs. Just bare wood. Wanderly Wagon was a shell, an illusion.
Thirty years on, Safe Cross Judge is back on TV, teaching a future politician how to cross the road. Thirty years on, Fianna Fáil still has muppet advisers.
Considering the past, that's still one hard illusion to shatter.
dkenny@tribune.ie
September 6, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Want to redeem yourself Harney? That'll be €7m
Sunday Tribune 30 August
Here's a trivia question: which minister was first to impose a smoke ban on Dublin? Micheál Martin or Mary Harney? Here's a clue: it was a no-brainer of a decision.
If you're over 30 you'll remember how thick smog used to choke Dublin's streets on still winter evenings. As a teenager working for the Irish Press; I used to dread those nights when it turned Burgh Quay into a horror movie set. My first 'job' was death-notice messenger, which was macabre enough without added atmosphere. Undertakers would phone in their notices, ask for a copy to be sent to the Indo and I would be flung, jibbering, out the door with a ream of print-outs.
Eight times a night I crossed the Liffey with a list of dead people under my arm, terrified that some nutjob would lunge out of the smog at me. Then, in 1990, Harney banned 'smoking' bituminous coal and the smog vanished forever. It was one of her best achievements.
Nineteen years later, she says she wants to ban sunbeds. Getting rid of something that's bad for you is a "no-brainer", she said last week.
Her old friend, Bertie Ahern, doesn't believe in getting rid of something that's bad for us – namely himself. He's indicated that he will stand again if there is a snap election, to make up FF numbers. To Bertie this is a no-brainer. He's right – only the brainless would think it a good idea to put him back in the Dáil.
Ahern, the man who blew the boom, is proof that all political careers end in failure. The same may be said of Harney. She started out so well though. When she was expelled from Fianna Fáil in 1985 for defying Haughey over the Anglo Irish agreement, many of us thought, 'Here's a woman with integrity.' We saw the formation of the PDs and thought, 'New liberal party with integrity. Looking good,' and then watched as Fianna Fáil slowly enveloped it, like a grubby smog.
The first signs of Harney reverting to FF type came in 2001 when she used a government plane to fly her to the opening of a friend's off-licence in Manorhamilton. (She's since been embroiled in the Fás expenses scandal.) Despite this, many still had high hopes for her when she took over Health in 2004.
Her first move was to set up the HSE. Two years later, the Euro Health Consumer Index ranked our healthcare 26th in Europe – out of 26 countries. In 2008, we were ranked 11 out of 31. So some improvement there, and there are others to be fair. Such as in monitoring of standards and infrastructure. The overhaul of St Vincent's is a good example of the latter in Dublin. Saying that, Loughlinstown is terrifying.
Standards, in general, are getting better in our hospitals. The problem is getting into one. Waiting lists are a disgrace. For instance, don't get a hernia in Tallaght. There is an 11-month wait to get it repaired at Tallaght hospital. By comparison, in Britain, the maximum wait for any procedure is 18 weeks. For suspected cancer it's two.
Wrap your children in cotton wool, too. Last Wednesday, Crumlin said it didn't know when the 25-bed ward and operating theatre there would reopen – it's been closed since May.
Other areas are dreadful too: stroke, mental health, cystic fibrosis care… The HSE is still an overstaffed, incompetent mess and responsibility for this lies with Harney.
Last week, Labour's Jan O'Sullivan said Harney has "lost interest in the job. She hides behind the HSE and doesn't want to engage with people." When she does, her "dictatorial approach backs people into corners" and makes matters worse.
All the signs point to this. Harney's best days are behind her. Her party's dead. Health – the job no one wants – is now a sinecure for her, like Ahern's Dáil seat is one for him. They both share the same breathtaking level of arrogance and self-entitlement.
Occasionally, she ventures out of Fortress HSE and makes a pronouncement. Last week it was about sunbeds. Harney told Lance Armstrong's cancer conference that she was looking into banning them. She was talking rubbish. In 2006 she said she would introduce legislation banning children from using them – and it still hasn't arrived. How long would it take her to bring in an all-out ban? She could do it tomorrow, if she really was interested. Her department, by the way, doesn't even fund any skin cancer awareness campaigns.
Harney made a fool of herself last week. The international reaction to her halting of the €7m cervical-cancer vaccine scheme was mortifying. She is looking for cuts of €800m from the HSE and can't spare €7m to save lives. Up to 80 women a year die from cervical cancer. What is the cost of treating a cancer patient, minister?
All political careers end in failure. Some will remember Harney as the minister who banned smog. All of us will remember her for failing to protect Irish women.
Harney has become an arrogant, cantankerous journeywoman. She's not stupid – she knows she can redeem herself. The only thing standing in her way is pride. And a paltry €7m.
It's a no-brainer, Mary.
dkenny@tribune.ie
August 30, 2009
Here's a trivia question: which minister was first to impose a smoke ban on Dublin? Micheál Martin or Mary Harney? Here's a clue: it was a no-brainer of a decision.
If you're over 30 you'll remember how thick smog used to choke Dublin's streets on still winter evenings. As a teenager working for the Irish Press; I used to dread those nights when it turned Burgh Quay into a horror movie set. My first 'job' was death-notice messenger, which was macabre enough without added atmosphere. Undertakers would phone in their notices, ask for a copy to be sent to the Indo and I would be flung, jibbering, out the door with a ream of print-outs.
Eight times a night I crossed the Liffey with a list of dead people under my arm, terrified that some nutjob would lunge out of the smog at me. Then, in 1990, Harney banned 'smoking' bituminous coal and the smog vanished forever. It was one of her best achievements.
Nineteen years later, she says she wants to ban sunbeds. Getting rid of something that's bad for you is a "no-brainer", she said last week.
Her old friend, Bertie Ahern, doesn't believe in getting rid of something that's bad for us – namely himself. He's indicated that he will stand again if there is a snap election, to make up FF numbers. To Bertie this is a no-brainer. He's right – only the brainless would think it a good idea to put him back in the Dáil.
Ahern, the man who blew the boom, is proof that all political careers end in failure. The same may be said of Harney. She started out so well though. When she was expelled from Fianna Fáil in 1985 for defying Haughey over the Anglo Irish agreement, many of us thought, 'Here's a woman with integrity.' We saw the formation of the PDs and thought, 'New liberal party with integrity. Looking good,' and then watched as Fianna Fáil slowly enveloped it, like a grubby smog.
The first signs of Harney reverting to FF type came in 2001 when she used a government plane to fly her to the opening of a friend's off-licence in Manorhamilton. (She's since been embroiled in the Fás expenses scandal.) Despite this, many still had high hopes for her when she took over Health in 2004.
Her first move was to set up the HSE. Two years later, the Euro Health Consumer Index ranked our healthcare 26th in Europe – out of 26 countries. In 2008, we were ranked 11 out of 31. So some improvement there, and there are others to be fair. Such as in monitoring of standards and infrastructure. The overhaul of St Vincent's is a good example of the latter in Dublin. Saying that, Loughlinstown is terrifying.
Standards, in general, are getting better in our hospitals. The problem is getting into one. Waiting lists are a disgrace. For instance, don't get a hernia in Tallaght. There is an 11-month wait to get it repaired at Tallaght hospital. By comparison, in Britain, the maximum wait for any procedure is 18 weeks. For suspected cancer it's two.
Wrap your children in cotton wool, too. Last Wednesday, Crumlin said it didn't know when the 25-bed ward and operating theatre there would reopen – it's been closed since May.
Other areas are dreadful too: stroke, mental health, cystic fibrosis care… The HSE is still an overstaffed, incompetent mess and responsibility for this lies with Harney.
Last week, Labour's Jan O'Sullivan said Harney has "lost interest in the job. She hides behind the HSE and doesn't want to engage with people." When she does, her "dictatorial approach backs people into corners" and makes matters worse.
All the signs point to this. Harney's best days are behind her. Her party's dead. Health – the job no one wants – is now a sinecure for her, like Ahern's Dáil seat is one for him. They both share the same breathtaking level of arrogance and self-entitlement.
Occasionally, she ventures out of Fortress HSE and makes a pronouncement. Last week it was about sunbeds. Harney told Lance Armstrong's cancer conference that she was looking into banning them. She was talking rubbish. In 2006 she said she would introduce legislation banning children from using them – and it still hasn't arrived. How long would it take her to bring in an all-out ban? She could do it tomorrow, if she really was interested. Her department, by the way, doesn't even fund any skin cancer awareness campaigns.
Harney made a fool of herself last week. The international reaction to her halting of the €7m cervical-cancer vaccine scheme was mortifying. She is looking for cuts of €800m from the HSE and can't spare €7m to save lives. Up to 80 women a year die from cervical cancer. What is the cost of treating a cancer patient, minister?
All political careers end in failure. Some will remember Harney as the minister who banned smog. All of us will remember her for failing to protect Irish women.
Harney has become an arrogant, cantankerous journeywoman. She's not stupid – she knows she can redeem herself. The only thing standing in her way is pride. And a paltry €7m.
It's a no-brainer, Mary.
dkenny@tribune.ie
August 30, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
It's shocking to find a murder story on your doorstep
Sunday Tribune August 23
Thunder rumbled beyond Dalkey quarry as I walked into the village: a storm was threatening to move in from the south. It was almost tacky, like a bad special effect, but matched the gloomy mood about the place on Thursday.
A group of subdued young people in black crowded around a gate. The funeral of Shane Clancy had taken place that morning in the church. The suicidal student murdered Sebastian Creane in Bray last Sunday in a jealous rage over his ex-girlfriend, Jennifer Hannigan. I presumed these young people were mourners. They may have been the young voices extolling Clancy's virtues the previous day on Joe Duffy's Liveline. "He was a great man," said 'Phillip'. "An all-round really nice guy," said 'Jennifer'.
Phil Coulter also came on air to lament tragic Sebastian Creane, the innocent friend of his children. "It's the kind of unreal thing you read about in the papers that always happens to somebody else, but when it comes to your door…" he said.
Headlines become three dimensional when you live in a village. I walked down Castle Street to buy the papers, past The Queen's where Sebastian spent his final hours with teetotaller Clancy on Saturday. As they left at 3am, I was leaving a party nearby. I might have passed them, I thought.
I eat in restaurants within feet of Clancy's house and occasionally drink in The Club, where he and Jennifer worked. He may have packed my shopping during a charity drive in EuroSpar. He lived half a mile from me and knew people I know. Even as a cynical hack, it's shocking to find a murder story on your doorstep.
I fine-combed the papers, wanting to understand Clancy and his crime. There were grainy photos and timeline maps in the Independent. The Irish Times carried the story about him buying knives at 4am on page one. The Daily Mail painted a picture of an enraged stalker – the Evening Herald that of a teetotal charity worker who had gone psychotic. It also carried an interview with a Jesuit who had strident views about the case.
What had started in the village rumour mill as a crazed stabbing, the papers fleshed out as a crime of passion.
Around the country, others pored over the details too, trying to understand. Interest was so great that the murder eclipsed a spate of stabbings on the streets of Mayo. Stabbings don't normally happen in Ballinrobe. Why was Bray more newsworthy?
The reason is that the Mayo attacks happened on the street – where we expect them. The Clancy stabbing, on the other hand, happened in a suburban home and involved a jilted lover from a 'celebrity' village. The story has an obvious, tabloid attraction.
However, once you strip away the voyeuristic aspects, another reason for our fascination with this type of story emerges – fear. This was a 'next-door killing'. We subconsciously fear that something similar could happen beside us or, worse, in our own homes. Therefore, we forensically examine the story to make sense of the crime. What was the reason? We have to have a reason, because if there isn't one, it will haunt us.
Ten years ago, almost to the week, Raonaid Murray was murdered a mile from Dalkey. No motive or killer has been found. Every year her story is republished and every year we read it, hoping for a breakthrough. Until her mystery is solved, there is a killer still living among us. We read hoping for closure.
Whenever the Herald carried a Rachel O'Reilly story at the peak of the interest in her murder, sales increased. Raonaid, the Robert Holohan tragedy in Cork, Siobhan Kearney in Goatstown and the Club Anabel's death of Brian Murphy all did likewise. Sales were boosted by people's need to make sense of the seemingly senseless. If Rachel's husband didn't murder her, who did? Is there a serial killer on the loose? And so on.
Ireland is becoming more violent. We fear confronting car thieves or kids vandalising a Dart carriage. We fear intervening in street fights. Most of all, we fear violence creeping into safe suburbia, as it did with Bray. As readers, we have the closure we need with this case. It wasn't random: we have motive and killer. The families are not so lucky and other questions remain. Why were the warning signs not spotted? Should a young man be able to buy a block of knives at 4am?
In his homily, Dalkey's parish priest spoke of Clancy's psychotic state and prayed for him to be at peace.
Jesuit blogger Fr Fergus O'Donoghue was not so kind. "All the psycho-babble explanations in the world will not take away from the fact that this killing was pure evil," he told the Herald. "Some will want to take comfort in a psychological explanation, but that won't help."
Statements like that won't help Shane Clancy's friends and family either as they deal with their grief. His final acts defined his short life, but branding him evil on the day they buried him is brutal and grossly insensitive. The theological discussion about Clancy's character could have waited until the mourners had gone home and the clay had settled.
I'm sure Joe Duffy would have handled the debate admirably.
dkenny@tribune.ie
August 23, 2009
Thunder rumbled beyond Dalkey quarry as I walked into the village: a storm was threatening to move in from the south. It was almost tacky, like a bad special effect, but matched the gloomy mood about the place on Thursday.
A group of subdued young people in black crowded around a gate. The funeral of Shane Clancy had taken place that morning in the church. The suicidal student murdered Sebastian Creane in Bray last Sunday in a jealous rage over his ex-girlfriend, Jennifer Hannigan. I presumed these young people were mourners. They may have been the young voices extolling Clancy's virtues the previous day on Joe Duffy's Liveline. "He was a great man," said 'Phillip'. "An all-round really nice guy," said 'Jennifer'.
Phil Coulter also came on air to lament tragic Sebastian Creane, the innocent friend of his children. "It's the kind of unreal thing you read about in the papers that always happens to somebody else, but when it comes to your door…" he said.
Headlines become three dimensional when you live in a village. I walked down Castle Street to buy the papers, past The Queen's where Sebastian spent his final hours with teetotaller Clancy on Saturday. As they left at 3am, I was leaving a party nearby. I might have passed them, I thought.
I eat in restaurants within feet of Clancy's house and occasionally drink in The Club, where he and Jennifer worked. He may have packed my shopping during a charity drive in EuroSpar. He lived half a mile from me and knew people I know. Even as a cynical hack, it's shocking to find a murder story on your doorstep.
I fine-combed the papers, wanting to understand Clancy and his crime. There were grainy photos and timeline maps in the Independent. The Irish Times carried the story about him buying knives at 4am on page one. The Daily Mail painted a picture of an enraged stalker – the Evening Herald that of a teetotal charity worker who had gone psychotic. It also carried an interview with a Jesuit who had strident views about the case.
What had started in the village rumour mill as a crazed stabbing, the papers fleshed out as a crime of passion.
Around the country, others pored over the details too, trying to understand. Interest was so great that the murder eclipsed a spate of stabbings on the streets of Mayo. Stabbings don't normally happen in Ballinrobe. Why was Bray more newsworthy?
The reason is that the Mayo attacks happened on the street – where we expect them. The Clancy stabbing, on the other hand, happened in a suburban home and involved a jilted lover from a 'celebrity' village. The story has an obvious, tabloid attraction.
However, once you strip away the voyeuristic aspects, another reason for our fascination with this type of story emerges – fear. This was a 'next-door killing'. We subconsciously fear that something similar could happen beside us or, worse, in our own homes. Therefore, we forensically examine the story to make sense of the crime. What was the reason? We have to have a reason, because if there isn't one, it will haunt us.
Ten years ago, almost to the week, Raonaid Murray was murdered a mile from Dalkey. No motive or killer has been found. Every year her story is republished and every year we read it, hoping for a breakthrough. Until her mystery is solved, there is a killer still living among us. We read hoping for closure.
Whenever the Herald carried a Rachel O'Reilly story at the peak of the interest in her murder, sales increased. Raonaid, the Robert Holohan tragedy in Cork, Siobhan Kearney in Goatstown and the Club Anabel's death of Brian Murphy all did likewise. Sales were boosted by people's need to make sense of the seemingly senseless. If Rachel's husband didn't murder her, who did? Is there a serial killer on the loose? And so on.
Ireland is becoming more violent. We fear confronting car thieves or kids vandalising a Dart carriage. We fear intervening in street fights. Most of all, we fear violence creeping into safe suburbia, as it did with Bray. As readers, we have the closure we need with this case. It wasn't random: we have motive and killer. The families are not so lucky and other questions remain. Why were the warning signs not spotted? Should a young man be able to buy a block of knives at 4am?
In his homily, Dalkey's parish priest spoke of Clancy's psychotic state and prayed for him to be at peace.
Jesuit blogger Fr Fergus O'Donoghue was not so kind. "All the psycho-babble explanations in the world will not take away from the fact that this killing was pure evil," he told the Herald. "Some will want to take comfort in a psychological explanation, but that won't help."
Statements like that won't help Shane Clancy's friends and family either as they deal with their grief. His final acts defined his short life, but branding him evil on the day they buried him is brutal and grossly insensitive. The theological discussion about Clancy's character could have waited until the mourners had gone home and the clay had settled.
I'm sure Joe Duffy would have handled the debate admirably.
dkenny@tribune.ie
August 23, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Baron Wince, Tara and the lords of incompetence
Sunday Tribune 16 August
Tenner for the first person who guesses what 'Carbon Wine', 'Brace In Now!' and 'Bare Cow Inn' have in common. My travelling companions didn't make the connection. One threatened to connect his fist with my gob if I didn't shut up, though.
On Tuesday we headed to Tullamore for a lads' night out with a friend who has swapped the Liffey for Offaly (he's a 'Liffo'). I spent the journey shouting out stupid anagrams of people's names to irritate the other passengers. I can be really, really, really annoying when I'm bored.
Brian Cowen's name is stuffed with good anagrams, like the ones above, but I discovered one that describes him perfectly. It's 'Baron Wince'. You know the way you wince at your bills these days? That's down to Baron Wince – Ireland's Lord of Pain.
We headed to the Baron's local, the Brewery Tap, because I wanted to ask him what he knows about bi-location – being in two places at once. Noel Dempsey got me wondering about this last week as he defended the latest news from Tara. The Baron wasn't about, so my question had to wait. (We'll return to it later.)
The news from Tara is that we will have to compensate the operators of the M3 if the number of cars using it falls below a target agreed by the state. So what's that target? Don't ask the National Roads Authority. It would only say last week that it was "competitive".
Don't ask Dempsey either. Newstalk's Eamon Keane asked him if the public will ever be told. Not if it's commercially sensitive, he replied, adding "what we WILL know is if the target is NOT reached". So there you have it. How many cars make the M3 viable? Answer: mind your own business.
Even after all the crookedness Fianna Fáil has displayed towards Tara, this latest revelation stopped me in my tracks. What next? Are they planning to sell the rights to Tara's name, like The Point did to 02? Will we see 'Welcome to The Hill of Eurolink' as we approach Tara? It wouldn't surprise me.
The M3 scandal embodies all that is wrong with Irish politics: greed, wastefulness, ignorance and a total disregard for democracy. Nobody wanted it in Tara/Skryne bar Fianna Fáil, which was so eager to destroy the valley that it paid almost €69,000 an acre for it. So eager, that it bulldozed the national monument at Lismullen, sparking an expensive European Court case. If/when we lose, we could be ordered to do a new environmental impact study and go back to scratch on the site.
Unesco may also order the road to be moved if it deems Tara a World Heritage Site. Environment minister John Gormley is afraid of this so he delayed presenting it for consideration. The obvious thing to do now is halt the M3 pending Unesco and the court's decisions. 'Green' Gormley, however, is hell-bent on completing a motorway that is destroying a heritage site, may have to be moved and may not prove viable.
A shortfall is highly likely. Last April it was predicted that almost 23,000 vehicles would use the M3 daily when it opens next July. Those numbers need to be readjusted because of the recession. Last month, Meath experienced the largest increase in people signing on – an extra 17,000 people, or 4%. That means a lot of cars off the road until the gloom recedes. On top of that, the remaining workforce won't want to pay €11.20-a-day in tolls when the rail service to Navan opens. Incidentally, neither Dempsey nor Gormley will have to pay the tolls – ministerial cars are exempt.
The pair's record with sums is appalling: last year Dempsey spent €70,000 on a new logo for Transport 21. The existing one had been developed in-house… for free. At around the same time, Gormley spent €15m on a climate change advertising campaign and only €5m on the Warmer Homes Scheme.
Two men, two things in common: the M3 and financial incompetence.
Remember I wanted to ask Brian Cowen about bi-location? The M3 bail-out has made it theoretically possible for me to be in two places at once – driving through Meath while at home in Dublin. Here's my question: why should I pay a toll on a road I don't want, will never use, in a county I don't live in, to a foreign consortium – for the next 45 years?
Fianna Fáil has secretly shackled us to a road that's in the wrong place. It agreed to underwrite a bad development that was in trouble from the start. How many other similar deals has it done? After this, how can we trust its judgment on Nama?
Last week, the Greens made noises about holding a convention on Nama. Under party rules, Gormley and Co can be ordered to vote it down, effectively ending the coalition.
Here's another question about location: where were the Greens' grass roots when the rest of us were discussing Nama? Why have they suddenly discovered their voices when the Dáil is on holidays? Are they serious or just posing?
Considering the Greens' hypocrisy to date, another two-word anagram comes to mind. It's of 'T-a-r-a' and is normally preceded by "I smell…"
It's also always associated with sinking ships, Mr Gormley.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Tenner for the first person who guesses what 'Carbon Wine', 'Brace In Now!' and 'Bare Cow Inn' have in common. My travelling companions didn't make the connection. One threatened to connect his fist with my gob if I didn't shut up, though.
On Tuesday we headed to Tullamore for a lads' night out with a friend who has swapped the Liffey for Offaly (he's a 'Liffo'). I spent the journey shouting out stupid anagrams of people's names to irritate the other passengers. I can be really, really, really annoying when I'm bored.
Brian Cowen's name is stuffed with good anagrams, like the ones above, but I discovered one that describes him perfectly. It's 'Baron Wince'. You know the way you wince at your bills these days? That's down to Baron Wince – Ireland's Lord of Pain.
We headed to the Baron's local, the Brewery Tap, because I wanted to ask him what he knows about bi-location – being in two places at once. Noel Dempsey got me wondering about this last week as he defended the latest news from Tara. The Baron wasn't about, so my question had to wait. (We'll return to it later.)
The news from Tara is that we will have to compensate the operators of the M3 if the number of cars using it falls below a target agreed by the state. So what's that target? Don't ask the National Roads Authority. It would only say last week that it was "competitive".
Don't ask Dempsey either. Newstalk's Eamon Keane asked him if the public will ever be told. Not if it's commercially sensitive, he replied, adding "what we WILL know is if the target is NOT reached". So there you have it. How many cars make the M3 viable? Answer: mind your own business.
Even after all the crookedness Fianna Fáil has displayed towards Tara, this latest revelation stopped me in my tracks. What next? Are they planning to sell the rights to Tara's name, like The Point did to 02? Will we see 'Welcome to The Hill of Eurolink' as we approach Tara? It wouldn't surprise me.
The M3 scandal embodies all that is wrong with Irish politics: greed, wastefulness, ignorance and a total disregard for democracy. Nobody wanted it in Tara/Skryne bar Fianna Fáil, which was so eager to destroy the valley that it paid almost €69,000 an acre for it. So eager, that it bulldozed the national monument at Lismullen, sparking an expensive European Court case. If/when we lose, we could be ordered to do a new environmental impact study and go back to scratch on the site.
Unesco may also order the road to be moved if it deems Tara a World Heritage Site. Environment minister John Gormley is afraid of this so he delayed presenting it for consideration. The obvious thing to do now is halt the M3 pending Unesco and the court's decisions. 'Green' Gormley, however, is hell-bent on completing a motorway that is destroying a heritage site, may have to be moved and may not prove viable.
A shortfall is highly likely. Last April it was predicted that almost 23,000 vehicles would use the M3 daily when it opens next July. Those numbers need to be readjusted because of the recession. Last month, Meath experienced the largest increase in people signing on – an extra 17,000 people, or 4%. That means a lot of cars off the road until the gloom recedes. On top of that, the remaining workforce won't want to pay €11.20-a-day in tolls when the rail service to Navan opens. Incidentally, neither Dempsey nor Gormley will have to pay the tolls – ministerial cars are exempt.
The pair's record with sums is appalling: last year Dempsey spent €70,000 on a new logo for Transport 21. The existing one had been developed in-house… for free. At around the same time, Gormley spent €15m on a climate change advertising campaign and only €5m on the Warmer Homes Scheme.
Two men, two things in common: the M3 and financial incompetence.
Remember I wanted to ask Brian Cowen about bi-location? The M3 bail-out has made it theoretically possible for me to be in two places at once – driving through Meath while at home in Dublin. Here's my question: why should I pay a toll on a road I don't want, will never use, in a county I don't live in, to a foreign consortium – for the next 45 years?
Fianna Fáil has secretly shackled us to a road that's in the wrong place. It agreed to underwrite a bad development that was in trouble from the start. How many other similar deals has it done? After this, how can we trust its judgment on Nama?
Last week, the Greens made noises about holding a convention on Nama. Under party rules, Gormley and Co can be ordered to vote it down, effectively ending the coalition.
Here's another question about location: where were the Greens' grass roots when the rest of us were discussing Nama? Why have they suddenly discovered their voices when the Dáil is on holidays? Are they serious or just posing?
Considering the Greens' hypocrisy to date, another two-word anagram comes to mind. It's of 'T-a-r-a' and is normally preceded by "I smell…"
It's also always associated with sinking ships, Mr Gormley.
dkenny@tribune.ie
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