End of the line for an isolated Taoiseach

“THE next Taoiseach to arrive at platform 2 is heading for Big Trouble, calling at Election Disaster and Heave Junction on the way...”

As Brian Cowen disembarked from the Luas at Dundrum Station the glorious spring sunshine belied the polite but icy reception he received from uninterested voters.

“Sorry for your troubles,” one woman announced to the Taoiseach, presumably expressing national mourning for the death of our economy which so recently passed away under the watchful eye of Mr Cowen.

But such encounters were thin on the ground as this campaign burst was all about the media swirl and getting on the evening news, not engaging with the punters.

The odd hand was shaken, a few cheery hellos were offered, but the camera crews and snappers appeared to be the focus of the attention – despite rather aggressive tannoy announcements insisting no one was allowed to take a photo without a permit in case rival train firms got to see the top secret pictures of the wonderment that is the inside of a Luas.

The Big Brother warnings were duly ignored, and the media scrum then caused more trouble by blocking passengers from alighting from the next Luas in, much to the annoyance of an irate woman with a push chair – that’s one less vote going in the direction of Fianna Fáil and their standard-bearer Shay Brennan.

The Taoiseach ploughed on regardless, insisting he was “absolutely secure” in his job even if Fianna Fáil did get the expected walloping on June 5, and with that ringing self-endorsement he headed for the shopping mall and passed one outlet called The Butcher’s Block – which will be exactly where his neck will be resting on June 6 as a panicked party staggers through the debris of the drubbing from voters.

Mr Cowen then hit the cafe, but again there was no anger, no real enthusiasm, just an apathetic noting of his presence as the Taoiseach sat quietly with the candidate enjoying a scone and a nice cup of tea.

The search for Fianna Fáil votes was proving elusive. One woman, when asked if her support could be counted upon, hesitated before declaring to Brennan Jnr: “I used to vote for your father, but...” her trailing pause making it clear she would not be extending the courtesy to the son.

“I don’t believe in dynasties,” another lady curtly snapped.

The late, and much liked, minister died nearly a year ago, and the fact Fianna Fáil put off the contest to replace him for so long shows how it kept hoping for something to turn up, only to have to bite the bullet and accept defeat with the knowledge the only things turning up are taxes and the dole queue.

The arrival of George Lee merely ensured the scale of defeat for the Government would be even greater than feared.

He too was campaigning down by the mall and, in sharp contrast to the restrained reception for the Taoiseach, RTÉ’s voice of the depression has turned into something of an unlikely sex symbol.

As if by choreography, a young beggar was weaving in and out of cars stalled at a nearby traffic lights, a plastic cup in hand to collect any offered loose change. A fitting backdrop against which Mr Lee, to use the title of his recent documentary, could explain How We Blew The Boom.

The Taoiseach had clearly had enough of public transport and left Dundrum via the trusty old Mercedes, no doubt aware the train wreck economy means Fianna Fáil’s election hopes, and with them his premiership, are hurtling towards the buffers at great speed.