Kenny and Cowen’s uncivil partnership destined for the rocks
Tensions rose to another flash-point — Enda was “disappointed” with Brian’s attitude; Brian was trying hard to keep hold of his temper this time and just shrugged his shoulders as if to say “here we go again”.
Enda wanted an apology, they had both agreed to say yes to a bi-partisan European civil union over the treaty, followed by a political honeymoon in Lisbon, but Brian had been caught out bad mouthing his “light- weight” partner already.
Brian just wanted an end to the atmosphere, why did Enda have to take such offence at everything?
Blueshirts, eh? You can’t work with ‘em, you can’t win the referendum without ‘em.
But the Taoiseach knew he was on the backfoot and decided to concede a classic non-apology apology just for a bit of peace and quiet.
He had not meant to hurt Enda, or any of his pals, but if he had — if — then he was sorry they felt like that.
“I do not care what the deputy has to say about me,” Brian added coldly.
“Likewise, Taoiseach,” Enda shot back, bristling at the put down.
“I am glad to hear him say that he is sorry,” Enda announced, trying — and failing — to salvage some dignity from the encounter, despite the fact Brian had not really said sorry at all.
Brian was clearly of the mind that there was nothing to say sorry for; Enda was causing a fuss about nothing again, and even if it meant shooting the already limping yes campaign in the foot he was not going to back down.
As with all such domestics, it was hardest on the youngsters. Little Leo Varadkar, 29 and three quarters, kept his head down as the bickering erupted across the chamber again, typing away furiously on his lap top — maybe his Bebo page was the only refuge from the rowing.
The mood was antagonistic, but less aggressive than last week, presumably because Biffo-baiter- in-chief James Reilly was noticeably absent from the Fine Gael benches. Maybe Enda had asked him to stay away so he and Brian could try and sort things out on their own.
But as the new hate figure supreme for Fianna Fáil, Cowenites were no doubt imagining Dr Reilly in his Hannibal Lecteresque lair practicing for his next barracking of the Taoiseach as he sipped a nice Chianti and chuckled darkly to himself.
With Dr Heckle/Mr Jibe otherwise engaged, it was up to Labour leader Eamon Gilmore to make mischief.
Where, he demanded of the Taoiseach, was the civil unions bill promised for last March?
The odd, and now barely civil, couple, Brian and Enda, just glared at each other, resigned to the fact their relationship would never see a happy ending.
