Drugs, hospitals and make-up - all hot topics in Enda Kenny's 'town hall' meetings. Kathy Sheridan joined him in Bertie's backyard
Sometimes you have to leave your cynicism at the door. On Tuesday night, Enda Kenny landed on the very border of Bertie Ahern's Drumcondra fastness for one of the last of his 19 countrywide "town hall" meetings. He got a nearly full house, after which he invaded Bertie's local down the road, smoked the Taoiseach out of the snug, had a five-minute chinwag with him, sniffed out a few Mayo men among the patrons, and lingered till 1am, looking convincingly relaxed.
This was after travelling from Mayo in the early hours of Tuesday, after which he addressed a business breakfast in Navan, followed by a day's work.
Respect.
He may not have the presence of a Charlie, nor the whiff of smoky backroom intrigue of a Bertie, nor the inspirational, cerebral engagement of a Garret, but he forges an easy, honest rapport with his audience, not all of whom seemed to be dyed-in-the-wool Fine Gael-ers on Tuesday night. There was no fighting or common abuse, alas. The tone of it was captured by several floating-voter types who congratulated him for having the courage to present himself for open questions at a public meeting, not to mention the opening words by FG's local great white hope, Paschal Donohoe, who described being grabbed by a constituent that very evening and told: "My God! Enda has risen like a phoenix from the ashes!"
Enda made an impressed face - as you would - before pointing out that Paschal was "working hard in a very difficult constituency" (which hardly begins to sum up competition like Bertie, Sinn Féin's Mary Lou McDonald and Patricia McKenna of the Greens).
The nearest the assembly came to unparliamentary language was when Dr Bill Tormey used the word "balls" to describe that part of the anatomy he considers essential to solving the housing problem.
FOR THE UNFEELING sort, there was entertainment to be had in watching Enda's weary, wary demeanour as Dr Tormey machete'd his way through the niceties with statements like "all professions are inherently corrupt . . ." and "Irish people don't do home help . . . If you didn't have the immigrants . . ." That stirred the pot. "I know plenty of people who do home help and they're Irish women," said a woman crossly, upon which the cool, emollient Richard Bruton, the party's deputy leader and local TD, interjected to say that his mother-in-law needed a home help who turned out to be Nigerian and "wonderful . . . It's not an either/or question."
Sometimes it's hard to be a politician. At a previous meeting, Enda was asked for his position on attendances at GAA matches. On Tuesday, a woman got up to say, in very business-like fashion: "I want to ask a few questions", before adding meaningfully: "I would like short answers". Then she proceeded to ask some of the longest questions in history, about home help, the fire brigade under attack, the drunks "effing and blinding in A&E", the Ceann Comhairle telling Opposition deputies in the Dáil to "sit down . . . That's all he does. Tells you to sit down. Who is going to speak for us?", she asked, before starting on a reprise about home help. "Fair play to you, you wanted short answers but . . ." said Enda, as the woman took off again. But later, he was still ruminating about her question: "'Who speaks for us?' That's what it's about, isn't it?"
A WOMAN WHO demanded an independent ombudsman to challenge corruption in the legal profession got loud applause. "Nothing more than a conman's union," agreed a voice in the audience. There were questions about the redress tribunal, about pensions, several about housing, one about the use of Shannon by American forces, about suicide, about education for children with autism. There was a suggestion from a self-described alcohol addict that Grangegorman be put to use as a kind of "drugs campus" to wean addicts off drugs - "and if they don't accept that, send them to Spike island".
Would he sack all personal advisors, asked a man. Enda hedged on that one but announced definitively that he would "not be spending €20,000 a year on make-up", to which an adoring (male) voice replied: "You don't need it Enda." In a paean to the Irish weather, Enda explained that he bathes in rain every day: "rain is acid free, anti-wrinkle . . ."
He also offered a personal insight when asked whether it was appropriate that the Irish taxpayer had to foot the bill for Charles Haughey's funeral. "My grandmother delivered Mr Haughey," he announced to a fascinated audience. "And she delivered Micheal O Morain and Joe Leneghan. So she delivered three characters into Irish life. So you could say, I suppose, that she did the State some service." Cue knowing laughter, rising to delight when he recalled that Haughey "did say that the current administration was the worst in the history of the State . . ."
Richard Bruton took a moment to remember a precious denizen of the parish, Luke Belton, lately deceased, before saying : "Tonight proves that politics does matter. You have only to lift the stone and you find many people struggling. I am impressed that many of the issues touched on here tonight touched on the abuse of power in many guises."
It was only left for Bill Tormey to say goodnight and thanks, which he did. "He hasn't deselected me yet," he said, winking at a meditative Enda. "Arrivederci Roma . . ."