Given the latest poll figures, the setting for Fine Gael's manifesto launch spoke volumes. Enda Kenny and his senior ministers were marched into the hall and put up against a brick wall. Not exactly blindfolded, but blinded by the light streaming through the glass facade. Time is moving on for the main Government party.
Less than two weeks out from polling day, there hasn't been any major change in public opinion. Having relentlessly pushed their message of recovery and stability, Fine Gael would have been hoping for some upward movement as the campaign moves towards the final phase. But the party is running to stand still.
It may have been a Valentine’s Day rendezvous in Dublin’s docklands for the Taoiseach and his team, but they didn’t get the big shift they were for hoping for.
It wasn’t for the want of media matchmakers trying to fix them up with a suitable partner. What about that Micheál Martin? Seems like a nice boy. He’s on the market again.
The very suggestion was enough to give Enda a fit of the vapours. Under no circumstances, he insisted, would he even "contemplate" doing the "business" with the leader of Fianna Fáil. He couldn't even bring himself to say "Micheál Martin".
Instead, when assailed by observations about their political compatibility, he reluctantly struggled out the Irish version of his name.
No. The Labour Party leader is the object of his current affections. But what if Joan Burton is unavailable because of a vastly diminished dowry? In this case, no matter how much they might desire it, the couple would not be able to settle down and produce a stable government.
Micheál, on the other hand, looks a far more sensible proposition.
Not to Fine Gael though. To them, he’s an elephant. The health conscious and svelte leader of Fianna Fáil will be most insulted. But it remains to be seen, should the numbers stack up, whether or not such an insult will deter him from a marriage of convenience with Fine Gael after the election.
Twice, Minister for Defence Simon Coveney referred to the "big elephant" that is Fianna Fáil's record on handling the economy. It "needs to be dealt with" in every election debate. As does the apparent rise in popularity of the once-toxic Soldiers of Destiny.
This explains why there was no mention of Sinn Féin during the manifesto launch and lots of references to what calamities Fianna Fáil, or “this crowd,” as Enda called them, might inflict on a nation in recovery.
Shacked up
So. It seems the Taoiseach, who has his heart set on becoming the first leader of his party to win a second consecutive term in government, would rather eat his own kidneys than get shacked up with Micheál Martin.
Or does it? Recent Irish history shows that other leaders were similarly averse to odd couplings, only to change their minds when all the results were in.
Maybe he might do what Trevor Sargent of the Greens did in 2007, resigning the leadership as he had promised after his party voted to coalesce with Fianna Fáil.
Enda wouldn't give a straight answer, insisting he couldn't see his way beyond Joan. "This is the way Bertie Ahern dodged questions," said journalist Chris Donoghue.
The Taoiseach look stung.
“This is not Bertie,” he sniffed. “You’re not talking to Bertie Ahern now!”
The attendant Blueshirts were scandalised. There were very few Fine Gael posters on the lamp posts on the quayside. The nearest one, in the sun-squinting eyeline of the heavyweight top table (all senior Ministers were on parade), had a big cartoon monkey on it. It was to do with the Chinese New Year.
The manifesto was unveiled upstairs from Fine Gael’s election headquarters in a gloomy bunker beneath the refurbished CHQ warehouse. The old dockland excise building is now an upmarket, though not fully occupied, shopping arcade. There was approving talk from supporters about moving from the darkness into the light.
There was a marked absence of candidates, however. Obviously for them yesterday morning, it wasn’t so much a case of safeguarding the recovery as kick- starting it for themselves at the church gates.
The message of the manifesto was clear. "Let's Keep the Recovery Going" was written on its cover and on every second page of the 136-page document. It appeared five times on the backdrop tacked onto the brick wall behind the politicians and on the front of the two lecterns. Enda, for a change, took questions on the economy head on. Michael Noonan didn't have to jump in and rescue him. "You can't have good micro-figures until you have strong macro-figures," he declared at one point, as the handlers at the back nodded their approval.
In the Great Costings Game of Oneupmanship, Enda duly upped the ante. The issue of how the various parties can back up their promised spending sprees has been a big part of the campaign so far.
Sinn Féin says, with no small amount of pride, the Department of Finance has signed off on its figures. Last week, Fianna Fáil smugly went one better and revealed an independent economics research consulting firm in London had given its accounts the green light.
Cloak of Invisibility
And yesterday, the Taoiseach produced the Costing Cloak of Invisibility. It seems there is a mechanism in existence whereby spending proposals can be sent for scrutiny to the Departments of Finance and Public Reform under a special anonymity process. Fine Gael did this.
Like the other two parties, it passed with flying colours too. Take your pick.
Or make your choice, was the Taoiseach’s slightly passive-aggressive comment to voters who will “go to the polls with the recovery itself in their hands”. Gently turning the screw. For now.
As for the lack of a shift on Valentine’s Day, the party is taking solace in its belief that the voters haven’t become “engaged” yet.
When Fine Gael, like the Wombles, decided to go from underground to overground yesterday, the party mustered in full view of the public on what is usually a very busy area. But it was a sleepy Sunday morning in Dublin, when only tourists were up and about. Put most of the Cabinet so conspicuously on view during a weekday afternoon and the scene outside might be a lot less tranquil.
Sinn Féin’s impressive battle-bus, the largest one in the campaign, drove past while the Taoiseach was on his feet. It didn’t stop. A missed opportunity.
When Enda led his front bench people on the long walk from the bunker to the platform in front of the brick wall, they marched under three shop signs overhead. They provided a fine summation of an election campaign
“Insomnia . . . Coffee . . .Toss’d Noodles and Salads . . . Mitchell and Son, Fine Wines and Whiskey.”
