Dáil Sketch/Miriam Lord:Michael McDowell stunned the Dáil yesterday morning by performing a perfect 'Reverse Violet' on the floor of the house. He lost his tongue. This move requires a degree of difficulty previously believed to be beyond the ability of the Tánaiste and Minister for Justice.
Hitherto acknowledged as a master of the Violet Elizabeth approach to parliamentary debate, Michael regularly scweams and scweams until he's thick and everybody else is tired.
When under pressure, the McDowell approach is to fill his lungs, open his mouth, and blast all comers with a torrent of put downs and reminders of his own general brilliance.
More of the same was expected when Enda Kenny demanded an explanation for the "catastrophic" state of neurosurgery services around the country. According to experts, key services to brain injury victims are on the verge of collapse, and are worse now than they were 30 years ago.
Deputy Kenny outlined a frightening litany of neglect, from bed and staff shortages to equipment used in surgery that regularly breaks down.
You don't have to be a brain surgeon to know that neurosurgical services cannot be supported by clapped out machinery and long waiting lists. You don't even have to be a famously intelligent barrister to know that the situation, as outlined by Enda, is a disgrace.
The Tánaiste listened with a sour expression - maybe because he would shortly have to stand up and talk his way around this debacle, and he wasn't in the comforting confines of the Four Courts either.
Enda wound up to a withering finish. "I'd like to ask you, Tánaiste, to tell the House, tell the Dáil," he began. "No. On second thoughts, don't tell the Dáil, because you treat this House with derision and contempt anyway.
"Tell the camera, because you love the camera . . . and tell through the lens to the people of this country waiting for neurosurgery treatment, what you and your Government have done in the last 10 years to deal with this problem."
Tánaiste McDowell was taken aback by nice Enda's anger. The best he could manage in response was a feeble "obviously the deputy got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
Then he reverted to Bertie's standard trick and read out a long list of statistics to highlight all the great measures introduced by the Government to improve the health system. But he couldn't get his head around the neurosurgery question, so he ignored it. The Opposition was disgusted, and let him know.
Tánaiste McDowell didn't take it well. "I think you are making a collective disgrace of yourselves, and if you don't want to hear the answers, I won't go any further," he pouted. A spot of Violet Elizabeth-style scweaming loomed large.
As Michael sulked and considered his options, Enda increased the pressure. Did the Tánaiste really expect the 426 people on the waiting list for brain surgery at Beaumont hospital to listen to that "rubbish" he had just spouted and think it alright? Taking refuge in statistics never worries Bertie. But Michael, to his credit, appeared embarrassed.
"The deputy seems to be engaging in amateur theatricals here" wailed the acting head of Government. "Again, the shouting starts," he huffed.
"Answer the question!" returned the chorus.
"No. That's the end of it," sniffed Michael, stung. He sat down and stayed quiet.
If he had a ball he would have gone home with it. And there it was. His perfect Reverse Violet. None of the usual scweams, just a sullen silence.
Labour leader Pat Rabbitte was amazed. "I didn't know there was any question that the Tánaiste couldn't answer," he marvelled. "And now he's gone into a sulk."