A lotta laughs but Lotto stars shun limelight

“IT’S me! It’s me!” A thousand would-be comedians were having the time of their lives filing past National Lottery headquarters trying to catch the attention of the waiting cameras.

Unfortunately, for those with stars in their eyes, the photographers weren’t on the lookout for the next big thing in stand-up — they were hoping in vain for an appearance by the country’s newest Lotto multimillionaires who had decided, yesterday at least, there would be no show.

From before the front doors of the office opened at 9am to locking-up time at 5.30pm, every car, taxi, bike, bus and, by mid-afternoon, wheelbarrow that passed within 50 yards of Lotto HQ was scrutinised for any half sign of a small pink slip with an ecstatic human attached.

But the family who put the cunning into Cunningham won the waiting game for a second day running. With sunburnt noses, empty film discs and blank notebooks, the media pack dispersed to spend another night taking bets on just how wide the smiles of Paul and Helen Cunningham and their five children would be when they eventually turned up to collect their €16 million winnings.

Lottery staff did their best to ease the collective pain of the wait by distributing sun cream and smoothies and running a tab at the nearby coffee shop so that no one collapsed of heat exhaustion or caffeine deprivation.

Veterans of Lotto-watch ’05 — the famous four-day wait for Euromillions winner Dolores McNamara — went one better and brought fold-up camping chairs which novices could only eye with envy.

Passers-by were also disappointed not to catch a glimpse of the Cunningham clan.

“I wanted to get a rub off them for luck,” said one woman waiting at the bus stop who reluctantly boarded when her double-decker arrived.

“But at least we got a laugh being here and you can’t put a price on that.”

Others had difficulty putting the whole hoopla into a philosophical context. “The people won a prize,” a mother explained to her small son, who asked why all the photographers were there. “What for?” came the boy’s reply, presumably told prizes are rewards for effort and achievement. Try telling an innocent that life is just a lottery.

Another man sighed at the injustice of it all. “You and I’d be choosing our numbers real carefully and get nothing and they just do a quick pick and get the jackpot. You can’t win,” he said missing the irony of his pronouncement.

National Lottery spokeswoman Paula McEvoy stressed the winners could take their time — or at least another 87 days — to present their ticket. But she added: “We’re keeping the champagne on ice.”

Some get champagne. Some get smoothies. Life is indeed a lottery.