Walkabout not the same without La Burton

FREE the West Dub One!

Where is Joan Burton? Where is her voice?

Something was absent from Labour’s swanky breakfast campaign swansong yesterday.

Yummy sausages: yes. Palpable relief the party had stopped dropping in the polls: yes. Deputy leader: no.

One concerned onlooker observed: “Oh my god, they must have focus grouped her — she’s been disappeared!”

Social protection spokesperson Roisín Shortall took what should rightly have been Ms Burton’s place at the helm with Eamon Gilmore, while Joanie, who has been missing from the front line campaign for a full week now, was rumoured to be ensconced in her West Dublin constituency despite the fact she is a shoe-in for the seat.

Speculation was rampant that Mr Gilmore had slapped an ASBO — anti-socialist behaviour order — on Ms Burton in a desperate bid to try and prevent more middleclass voters being scared away from Labour.

Not much of a reward for a woman who is recognised as master of her brief and the person who called the bank bailout right.

So, was Joan home alone? Had she been disappeared? “No! I’m reappearing with a bang tomorrow!” she announced joyfully from a hide-out in Carlow after being tracked-down by the Irish Examiner as she prepared for a rematch with Vincent Browne.

Ms Burton’s last appearance on the Browne show saw her slap down the host several times for alleged sexism and haranguing offences in a performance that became an infamous YouTube hit.

Mr Browne then retaliated by getting comedian Mario Rosenstock to play both himself and La Burton in an on-air follow-up to the spat, which, despite extreme caricatures, was far less alarming than the real thing had been.

Back at Labour HQ, journalists slipped mugs emblazoned with the legend: “Gilmore For Taoiseach” in their bags when party handlers weren’t looking — aware the cups would soon be collectors items on Ebay, especially if presented as part of a set with the more realistic “Gilmore for Tánaiste” tea pot, or “Gilmore For Leader Of The Opposition” sour milk jug.

Across town, Fine Gael was set to launch its agenda for the party’s first 100 days in office when a text alert came through that the press conference would be delayed by half an hour — perhaps they needed more time to work out the calendar properly; Day 1: What the hell do we do now?

Day 2: Why won’t Angela Merkel return our phone calls?

Day 3: Heave against Enda, already?

Day 100: Don’t panic! We’re still only the second most unpopular Government in history.

When the media was allowed into Blueshirt high command, we discovered that the type of thick velvet rope usually deployed to keep vacuous celebrities like Paris Hilton away from the paparazzi and the lower orders had been erected to separate the (still not quite) Chosen One from us.

Indeed, nearly all the chairs had been removed from the room, so that the press corps had no option but to stand when Enda walked in — as if he was president of the United States.

The Greens were also on the move, staging a stroll down Grafton St which was billed as a mass canvass, but which unkind observers dubbed: “The short walk to political oblivion.”

Poor Greens, they were always too innocent for this game, as proved yet again when John Gormley and co stopped exactly where the feisty photographers had asked them to — not realising they were posing slap bang in front of a shop window plastered with stickers saying: “Closing Down — Final Week”. Poor Greens. Paul Go-Go Gogarty was strangely absent from their merry band of TDs strolling down the street.

When asked where he was, a party handler replied: “In Lucan, trying to hold onto his seat.” So, the other TDs have accepted the inevitable and given-up the ghost then?

Just as well, it was all an amicable little amble in the winter sunshine. It didn’t need potty-mouthed Go-Go repeating his Dáil antics and yelling “fuck you!” at people just because they did not agree with him — the Greens are in enough trouble with voters as it is.