Bertie’s bravado blossoms

THIS is how life should be for the leader of a nation: string quartets to herald one’s arrival, ceremonial robes to emphasise one’s status and acclamations in Latin to nourish one’s ego.

No wonder Bertie smiled as he glided into Dublin Castle for his honorary conferring. No one would shout across him here or ask him awkward questions like they did in that nasty place over on Kildare Street.

Here he would be honoured, exalted, loaned a lovely squashy hat and cited ancient Roman aphorisms. And no one would draw attention to the fact that across the courtyard the Moriarty Tribunal sat probing his personal accounts, while through the gates the Mahon Tribunal was threatening journalists with jail.