Day 19: Taoiseach finally meets a voter
After a national tour more tightly choreographed than Riverdance, Brian Cowen’s inner Michael Flattery was allowed to fly free of the carefully selected safe groups of supporters he has so far almost exclusively encountered across the country on this most peculiar electoral trail.
As the Premier and the unpredictable punter faced each other, Mr Cowen moved in for what’s known in the trade as the grip and grin.
“You’re doing a hard job, good luck,” the unvetted voter volunteered. So far, so neutral.
Then it started. Pointed but polite, as Mr Cowen made his way down the road he was greeted at each new handshake with questions about why the banks and builders were being bailed out and let off, how could he cut job seekers allowance for the young, why was he taking the Christmas bonus away from welfare families, why were taxes so high when the health service was so bad?
But he made it to the shopping mall in one piece, though he missed a trick when he passed by the tarot reading stall without indulging.
Dolores had not been so disbelieving and she was delighted with her tarot reading – and so she should be as Carlow is at the cutting edge of the paranormal and all you have to do to find out the future is to place your hand on what looks suspiciously like a photo-copier, then the lady behind the counter feeds the seven cards you have chosen into the machine and out pops a four foot long sheet of telex paper telling you the mysteries of tomorrow.
Dolores now knew her winning Lotto numbers and how her love life would thrive, but it was the section headed Harmony that seemed as if it could have been written, not for her, but for our Taoiseach as he faces electoral wipe-out and a leadership challenge from within Fianna Fáil.
It stated: “Keep calm as a previously strong position at work could be temporarily shaken by change or deception. A prudent, intuitive approach will help you overcome this situation. However, you may become over-tired at times. This could lead to a lack of productiveness and indecisiveness.” Blimey! All that for €6.
But unfortunately, Mr Cowen never got to get a glimpse at his shared future as before Dolores could get to him he was whisked off to Kilkenny and further tentative steps out of the bunker and onto the High Street.
Irish people are very polite, particularly in the sunshine, and while there was no great enthusiasm at seeing Mr Cowen, there was no hostility either. A few more sticky issues were brought up, but most were happy to shake the Taoiseach’s hand, or just pretend they hadn’t seen him and walk on by.
Mr Cowen is not a natural campaigner and clearly does not enjoy it, looking hot and awkward as he kept his jacket on all the way through the walkabouts despite the sweltering heat.
Bertie would never have done that, as part of his obsession with the Clintonesque concept of the permanent campaign, he would have had his sleeves rolled up, claiming personal credit for the weather along the way for good measure.
Then, just before the Taoiseach slipped into his Mercedes, out of the shadows stepped sacked Minister John McGuinness – the Kilkenny cat-caller who has been bad mouthing the Government to anyone who would listen since the indignity of his demotion.
The handshake looked as chilly as a choc-ice.
Dolores and the tarot lady could probably have warned Mr Cowen about that.
