Wet Wet Wet
I’ll tell you how quiet politically it is. I’ve seen graveyards where there’s been more action. On an average sitting day of the Dáil, we’d get a couple of dozen emails related to politics each day. True, a lot of them are of no consequence. But yesterday -admittedly it was a Sunday – there was a grand total of four, three of them tributes to Ronnie Drew and the fourth about Falun Gong practicioners who were being persecuted in China.
If it weren’t for the force majeure of the floods, we’d all be twiddling our thumbs. All good things don’t come automatically to those who wait, but it is fairly hard to generate stuff in August, the nadir of the silly season, because they are all away.
You ring up your typical TD or Senator on their mobiles and hear the pattern of long beeps that say: the Algarve or the Costa Blanca or (for the crowd from south of the Liffey) a tasteful gite not too far away from Bergerac.
Because nothing else is happening the floods and awful weather have been spun into political stories (and decent ones at that, encompassing climate change and volative weather patterns). Speaking of which, I was standing in on The Wide Angle on Newstalk yesterday. And one of the texts we got in was hilarious. It asked why the Government had taken out radio ads telling us not to water our lawns when we were up to our necks in water?