Branding Bertie Ahern a socialist must be FF’s last, desperate stroke

THE mood in the Sycamore Room was tense. All the handlers had gathered, and both the ad agency and the market research companies had delivered their verdict.

“What are we going to tell Bertie?” one of the junior handlers asked. “These figures are disastrous. He’s going to go ballistic when he discovers that the party is polling even less than we got in the local elections.”

The senior handler thought - not for the first time - that this was a young lad who needed to know his place. Not a wet day in the place, and already referring to the Taoiseach as Bertie. Not even the Boss or the Chief. And besides, what earthly use was a handler who panicked every time he saw a set of poll figures? Didn’t he know that the party had been through much worse than this?