TREATY SKETCH:IN THE spirit of Europe, yesterday's launch of the Lisbon Treaty referendum Bill was held in The Trapattoni Room of Government Buildings, writes Miriam Lord
Actually, its real name is The Italian Room. But when Giovanni Trapattoni took over as manager of the national soccer team, some staff in Bertie's Merrion Street bunker decided to rechristen the elegant conference room in Trap's honour.
Government Bills don't usually merit a big launch, but for reasons that quickly became unfathomable, it was decided to give the "Twenty-eighth Amendment of the Constitution Bill 2008" a bit of a send-off.
Minister for Foreign Affairs Dermot Ahern presided over the affair, with Minister of State Dick Roche by his side. While Dermot was doing his best to explain the contents of the Bill and not succeeding, a row about it was going on next door in the Dáil chamber.
This was to do with the very confusing nature of the Bill, where it seems like the Irish and English sections have been mixed up, with parts under English headings appearing in Irish and vice versa. "It's like Dingle, Daingean, Dingle," snorted Fine Gael's PJ Sheehan, summing up the situation.
Back in the Trapattoni Room, Minister Dermot Ahern was struggling to clarify that this is to do with constitutional requirements. It's a legal thing. (Which is true).
"Eh, if you read the Bill from the left on page four . . . and then go to page six . . . it's the way which it's set out . . . page six has the Irish version of what's going into the Bill . . . then on page eight, eh, the second part . . ."
A helpless little grin passed over solicitor Dermot's face. He never needed this sort of stuff when representing found-ons in Dundalk District Court on a Thursday morning.
This is a complicated business. The Minister's audience wilted under references to subsections and articles, liberally peppered with wanton use of unexplained acronyms. Dermot and Dick sat under a large modern art painting which defied explanation, rather like the task the two of them found themselves lumbered with.
Bertie Ahern had been expected to attend. He didn't; a merciful outcome for all concerned. The idea of Bertie attempting to explain the Bill in simple terms was almost too horrific to contemplate.
Instead, Bertie ambled outside to the lawn, where he took part in a little photocall with two winsome tots, a postman's bicycle and a nice lady wearing a big yellow dress and a hat festooned with daffodils.
Two-year-old Ali Skeehan took a great shine to the Taoiseach and kept running over to hand him daffs. The photocall was to publicise the Irish Cancer Society's annual Daffodil Day, which takes place today.
Ali, with the able assistance of six-year-old Anna O'Farrell, kept the photographers busy as they ran back and forth to Bertie, exchanging flowers.
Bertie looked so happy and grateful. The final line of Van Morrison's Coney Islandsprang to mind: "Wouldn't it be great if it was like this all the time?" It used to be.
But back in the Trapattoni Room, there was no gambolling through the impenetrable thicket of the treaty Bill. Poor Dermot finally lurched to a halt, with nobody any the wiser, and deferred to Dick. "I don't know if Dick wants to say anything."
Normally, this would be known as "pushing an open door". Not yesterday. Dick didn't open his mouth. Someone should inform the Pope - a miracle on Merrion Street.
The two men had one major problem. It was wrongly assumed by most commentators that the public launch of the Bill would be accompanied by a date of the referendum. But this was not to be, as the Taoiseach is still doing his "for me to know and you to find out" routine.
Dermot "hoped" the Bill would be debated in the Oireachtas after the Easter recess. As for the length of time to be allocated, the Minister looked to an official.
"When were we thinking it would be finished?" So what about that date? Will it be before summer? "Er, I think you can take it . . .We haven't heard anything to the contrary," replied Dermot.
He couldn't help much on the wording either, short of musing that he anticipated it would be a "simple question: yes or no." What about the name of the referendum commission chairman? "I wouldn't want to say."
This is not to say the Government is not working hard. "On Thursday, we produced an explanatory leaflet."
Some suggested that by keeping their powder dry, the Government is giving the "No" lobby a head start.
"Oh, no," insisted Minister Ahern, "We've been busy working away, producing leaflets."
And how much will the literature cost to produce? "I can't say that." However, of one thing Dermot was sure.
"It's a difficult document to explain on the doorsteps." Dick Roche will be in his element.
Turn off the lights before he gets to the garden gate. Dick didn't open his mouth. Someone should inform the Pope