Bertie furlongs ahead in ‘best turned out’

DOWN on their luck and up to their necks in senoritas, margaritas and banditos, the three amigos strode purposefully from the Ballybrit Suite.

Swiftly scotching rumours of a split between ordinary Joe's and eminent elitists in the Fianna Fáil camp, the Taoiseach, flanked by former EU Commissioner Ray McSharry and Sports Minister John O'Donoghue, reassured anyone interested he was not cheesed-off that a local cumann had organised its own race night at the Radisson last night.

Those same Joe's were the "real elite" he declared, and he would be attending their alternate fundraiser. No hard feelings then, if the party they support cannot cater for them all in the Taoiseach's teepee.

Although I had a horse that performed well in the second race (some consolation for arriving in haste at the racetrack minus my complimentary ticket), the Taoiseach was the star turn of the day.

Horses lining up for 'best turned out' had a run for their money. Looking sharp in a dark navy suit and Italian-looking white, blue and yellow-striped shirt, picked up by a tie of his favourite colour canary yellow he glided god-like through the crowds. A study in patience he paused dutifully, and at opportune photographic moments, to allow dozens of devotees beat a path towards him, arms outstretched, begging for his blessing. Chancing upon former Taoiseach Albert Reynolds and Fine Gael MEP Brian Crowley provided a tasty little vignette for the cameras, as did his decision to pause with a young boy, Harry Dillon from Naas, Co Kildare, who was clearly in awe of big-hearted Bert. The most studious pause was to watch his nap, Ebony Shades, lose.

He retained his poise, which is why he's Taoiseach.

In town until tonight, his presence yesterday, and that of Agriculture Minister Mary Coughlan, tallied with the arrival of glorious sunshine and further record crowds.

For my own part, a slightly waspish humour, the legacy of an unnecessary night on the tiles the previous evening, lifted with victory in the second race.

Paradoxically, I won without winning, because although my horse Safe Route came in just behind One More Minute, the betting excluded the performance of that horse.

My tango around town on Monday night danced me through the barricades of Eyre Square and onwards to the Skeff, before ending up in the Radisson.

There, Maurice the manic piano player belted them out til three in the morning until his mike was hijacked by screechers the worse for wear. I hit the sack around 4am, all cocktailed out, but delirious to be where it's at in Galway.