George ‘Bruce’ Lee reveals inner ninja on the hustings

GEORGE “BRUCE” LEE discovered his inner ninja and came out fighting.

He doesn’t need to use his hands as lethal weapons, Mr Lee floors people with the mesmerising moroseness of his voice – the strangely beatific rhythm of its very dullness drawing listeners to him as they become locked in its relentless embrace.

Mr Lee didn’t need a gun either, he was packing something much more dangerous – the truth, and that was the weapon he would blow his enemies away with.

A gun gives you power, he mused, but not responsibility.

The sheer doom-laden hypnotism of his vocal delivery melded with the stuffy heat in the small press conference room as the audience became too transfixed by the waves of verbal monotone magnetism engulfing us to even wonder why he had started talking about guns at all.

The last few days have changed him, he declared, he is no longer fearful, the adulation he has encountered on the streets of Dublin South has pumped steel into his spine for the battle with the forces of darkness – the Two Brians.

Giving a brutally self-effacing overview of his political career so far, Mr Lee decided “the vast majority of the public is delighted” by his decision to quit RTÉ and save the nation, and if he had known the level of support he would have received, he’d have jumped ship sooner.

Yet, with a rare flash of modesty, Mr Lee avoided the other big talking point of his campaign, the fact he has emerged as the most unlikeliest of heart-throbs, with women of a certain age flash-mobbing him in the streets, swooning to the sound of his deliciously droning speech patterns.

Luckily for Mr Lee, Fine Gael’s colourful new orange, blue and green logo resembles a ninja death star and also works as a handy metaphor for who he is – its orange flaming edge highlighting the passion he brings to macro economic theory – and the new-found passion he triggers in the well-heeled, genteel ladies of the leafy suburbs. The blue side represents his steely determination to do the right thing – and the greenness highlights his total lack of experience in public office.

Mr Lee doesn’t have a theme song yet, but with his constant references to standing up to be counted in order to tell his children he went to the frontline in the great economic war, he could do worse than Kylie Minogue and Robbie William’s duet: “Hey, I’m doing it for the kids.”

Indeed, at times it appeared Mr Lee believed he was on a personal mission from a higher power as he laid into the Government with an evangelical zeal.

The religious revivalist feel was heightened as Mr Kenny clasped hands with George, seemingly in awe of his new follower’s hellfire fervour.

Enda may have already risen Fine Gael from the political dead, but it was hard to tell if George thought of himself as the disciple or the deity on this occasion.

Mr Lee then strolled over to St Stephen’s Green, no, not to walk on the water of the pond, but to pose for a few snaps by the trees.

Mr Kenny was keen to perform for the cameras as well and unwisely allowed himself to be persuaded into standing in between two giant election posters with his arms reaching skyward in the manner of a would-be super hero about to take off – Captain Blueshirt? Enda Boy? Mighty Mayo Man?

But sadly for the Fine Gael leader – unlike Mr Lee’s ego – he did not soar into the stratosphere.