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.

A man could thrive in such a rarified setting and Bertie’s bravado certainly blossomed. “We are all born with an innate curiosity,” he said, his address on the value of education pleasing the assembled academics while taunting the press pack. We have a desire to learn, he goaded, and a thirst for knowledge.

Had the opposition been present, they would have scorched the paint off the frescoed ceilings with their collective fury. Bertie was being made a Doctor of Laws but some felt a Masters in Escapology would have been more fitting.

A few opposition members might not have been an unwelcome addition as barely a third of the seats were filled. The small Ahern family grouping was swelled by the presence of Bertie’s councillor brother Maurice, his elder daughter Georgina and her Westlife husband Nicky Byrne.

Education Minister Mary Hanafin went along as did Minister of State Tom Kitt and Archbishop Diarmuid Martin, but if the big names were small in number, it didn’t take away from Bertie’s happy respite.

Famously a devotee of the daytime fast, he even stayed on for lunch before returning to Leinster House. Much nicer to be where you can eat than somewhere you’re on the menu.