Bertie needs to get his Spiderman suit back from the cleaners — fast

HOW many Bertie Aherns are there? And which one will do the reshuffle?

There's a Bertie we're all used to, and if he does it the result is likely to be cautious and unimaginative to the point of disaster. There's another Bertie, more often shown to the rest of the world (and very occasionally at home), crisp, concise, a problem-solver. If the second Bertie does the reshuffle, the results will be a lot more interesting.

Then there's a third Bertie, somewhere between the two of them. This is the guy who says "if it was up to me, I'd have all these problems sorted out in jig time." Now, of course, he never says that directly, but you know when you see that hangdog, apologetic look on Oireachtas Report that it's the third Bertie you're about to see.

And there is a private Bertie, who is very hard to get to know, very hard to get close to. This is the Bertie who finds it hard to trust people or to take them into his confidence. The loner, the guy who makes his decisions in isolation.

I used to think that Bertie was a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde character. But he's not, actually. He's Spiderman. Sometimes he's the Peter Parker side of Spiderman, shy and retiring, bumbling, inoffensive, unlikely ever to be an achiever. Sometimes he puts the magic suit on, and suddenly he's able to scale great heights in a single bound, able to take on all-comers, irresistibly attractive. It was Spiderman who swept through Ireland in the 1997 general election, Spiderman who was embraced by women young and not so young all over the country, Spiderman who charmed the people of Ireland into giving him a first term as Taoiseach.

He took off the magic suit then, and didn't really put it back on again for another five years. But it didn't matter very much because things were going so well. In 2002 they were able to go to the country again with the Spiderman suit in the wardrobe, except for the odd outing to inject energy into their election campaign. The biggest thing they had to fight against in that election was complacency, because all the polls said they were going to get an overall majority on their own. But whatever happened to the Spiderman suit during that election, someone must have decided it needed a good dry-cleaning. When Bertie got it back from the cleaners, its qualities had changed, subtly but unmistakably.

Now the magic powers that had served him so well on previous outings were failing to impress anyone around him. People, and especially his own cabinet ministers, felt free to do whatever they wanted, and Bertie's appearances in the Spiderman suit only made an impact on strangers. Mind you, it was quite an impact; only someone with the agility and speed of Spiderman could have managed the difficult and complex processes thrown up by the Irish EU presidency.

But even during the period of the presidency, it was pretty clear that while Spiderman was running Europe, poor old Peter Parker had to run the country. And when his party needed him, during the local and European elections, Spiderman was nowhere to be seen.

Is he back? Or is Peter Parker still in charge? We'll know the answer when we see the reshuffle.

This is what Peter Parker would do. He'd reward Joe Walsh's years of inactivity with a five-year, very well-paid stint in Brussels. He'd quietly persuade Rory O'Hanlon to step down from the office of ceann comhairle and put Michael Smith in there instead. He'd appoint Mary Hanafin to Defence, move Noel Dempsey to Agriculture, Mary Coughlan to Education, and put Dick Roche into Social, Community and Family Affairs. Mary Harney would be given Transport, just because she wants it, and Seamus Brennan, who has made a dog's dinner of transport so far, would end up being promoted far beyond his expectations, to Mary Harney's old job.

Here's what Spiderman would do instead. Michael Smith, Joe Walsh and Rory O'Hanlon would be sent back to the backbenches with a gold watch each. Charlie McCreevy would be told that he is welcome to go to Brussels or join his older colleagues on the backbenches. Noel Dempsey and Martin Cullen would be offered the junior ministries of their choice, and Eamon Ó Cuív would be made ceann comhairle. Brian Cowen would go to Finance, Micheál Martin to Foreign Affairs (where they wouldn't let him make too much of a mess), and at least half the junior ministers would be sacked.

THAT would make room for the kind of new blood that is desperately needed. This cabinet is perhaps the most clapped-out and jaded looking we have seen in 30 years. If they had gone through years of fiscal agony and retrenchment, battling strikes and breakdowns, surrounded by major security threats, they couldn't look any more tired or unimaginative. They have made so many mistakes and cock-ups it is apparent that a radical shake-up is needed, if only to create the impression that someone is in charge.

And who deserves promotion or, to put it another way, is there anyone on the backbench team now who could make a difference to the overall look of the Government? The three most obvious candidates for promotion are Mary Hanafin, Dick Roche and Willie O'Dea. A promotion for him would at least have the merit of making room for someone who actually believes in disability rights, assuming Fianna Fáil have such a person.

Sean Fleming, Sean Ardagh and Pat Carey must surely be in the hunt. Billy Kelleher from Cork and Tony Killeen from Clare are likely to be in the reckoning, too. And surely, at last, one of the Lenihans.

Spiderman, of course, would be doing it now. The last act of the Dáil before it rose from the summer recess would have been to vote in new ministers, and they would have had the next couple of months to read themselves into their new jobs, and to ensure that pictures and images of the new team were allowed to create a fresh look for the party.

But instead, a very odd thing is going to happen. We are at the start of the estimates process, the time when next year's spending plans are all worked out.

Between now and the end of September, minister after minister is going to preside over the spending plans for his or her own department, and start the process of discussion and negotiation with the Department of Finance. They're going to be doing it without knowing where they will be by the time the process is finished.

Will they be in? Out? Loyal? Discontented? Part of the Government's defences? Part of an incipient heave against Bertie? Spiderman, with his incredible sixth sense of impending disaster, would have prevented any chance of a mess by moving too fast. But if Peter Parker is in charge, that sixth sense may not be fully operational. I hope for Bertie's sake that the suit is back from the cleaners, and in proper working order this time.