Little of the old Labour exuberance in leader’s sombre speech
The future is presently being held hostage by arch economic villain Brian Cowen in the underground lair of his golden circle hideaway where he tortures it for the pleasure of plutocratic bankers cavorting with him as they light their cigars with the billions of euro cut from the welfare budget.
The somewhat ill-defined tax and spend rescue plan was the only touch of rhetorical flourish in a speech that was every bit as sombre as the economic outlook.
It was as if the twin misfortune of having his primetime television exposure scheduled against a world cup qualifier and Earth Hour when everyone was supposed to sit in the dark, had drained the occasion of its usual buzz.
It had all been very different earlier when in a mild throwback to the days when red was the colour of the blood on the floor, not the roses in the tasteful vases at such Labour gatherings, Mr Gilmore had been denounced as a dictator by some agitated delegates for the way he had set about changing the party’s constitution.
He was stuffing the new “politburo” with “backroom boys” and “yes men” in a bid to become some sort of cross between North Korea’s Kim Jong Il — and that even more reviled traitor to socialism — Tony Blair.
It was left to tub thumping Willie Penrose to deliver the speech of the conference as he laid into Mr Gilmore’s detractors and invoked the memory of his 1913 lock-out veteran grandmother as he shook with righteous indignation at the opponents of change.
Apart from that there was little of the old Labour exuberance, except for one delegate who got a little carried away with himself and declared: “We don’t need a Spring tide we need a Gilmore tsunami” as comparing the leader to the biggest natural disaster of recent times was probably not what he intended.
The soft-focus video of Eamon that preceded the address revealed remarkably little as he spoke to people in various states of economic distress. Luckily for his image makers, one couple just happened to be a banker married to a construction worker which neatly book-ended the downturn. As the discarded Gilmore for Taoiseach placards littered the conference floor hall following his address, one relieved Labourite whispered: “Thank God we can get back to the match now.”
It was, perhaps, an aspiration of hope over fear, as like Mr Gilmore in the hall, Ireland showed early promise only to end up delivering a steady, workman-like job, but nothing special.
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