Miriam Lord: My days watching the watchmen

Her columns, and now book, help bring the Dáil to life for ‘Irish Times’ readers but Miriam Lord insists she is no pundit

So, somebody had the idea of putting some of my columns into a collection. I’d forgotten most of them: things happen, you move on.

These pieces span the eight years or so since I joined The Irish Times in 2006.

Most of them are to do with politics, which is a fascinating business to observe. Sometimes, people can become so absorbed by the political world that they forget the real one outside.

This isn’t a good place for journalists to be, but it’s a sure-fire way to trouble for politicians. They end up speaking to and at each other, instead of addressing the public they are supposed to serve.

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By and large, I like politicians. The level of bile and vitriol they have to face these days is unwarranted. You mightn’t want a politician to be your best mate, or you mightn’t agree with their politics, but they aren’t the incarnation of evil either.

I like them – but they do drive me to distraction.

They begin with the best of intentions. For example, I always want a new taoiseach to do well. I believe them when, starting out, they make heartfelt pledges about how they will be different and better, and a new type of leader.

Hasn’t really happened yet.

But they ask us and we give them our trust.

People like me keep an eye on what they’re doing with it.

The columns included here are my thoughts on the major political events over most of the last decade, beginning with the death of former taoiseach and Fianna Fáil leader, Charlie Haughey. They aren't analysis pieces. I don't want to be a pundit.

It’s just my take on what happened. You know when you’re watching the news and some pompous TD pops up and starts defending the indefensible? And you roar “do you think we’re all f****** eejits?” at the television? I feel that way a lot, listening to them.

And when government ministers pull strokes then try to pretend nothing happened, that makes most of us angry too.

It made by blood boil to see the way senior politicians ignored and waffled their way around the outrageous evidence of Bertie Ahern at the Mahon tribunal, for example. But then, I was so proud of the man when he spoke in the British Houses of Parliament.

Nothing is black and white.

Best to just laugh, sometimes. It would be remiss to overlook the occasionally infuriating, occasionally daft outpourings of our elected representatives (particularly the ones with a great welcome for themselves).

There are times you'd wonder how some of the ornaments we have in Leinster House manage to put on their drawers the right way around, never mind get elected to a seat.

Yet there they are. Put there by us, to uphold our democracy, so its only right to keep a proprietorial eye.

Thankfully, escape is possible. Hence the inclusion of such wonders as the saga of Bono’s little trousers and the day Our Lady was supposed to appear at 3pm on the dot in Knock but failed to turn up.

Had I known that, some day, this stuff would be collected and put into a book, might I have written with a nod to posterity, as opposed to an eye on knocking-off time?

Not really.

These columns were done and dusted on the day, which is the way it should be.

Or at least the way it’s always been for me – watching on.

Oh Lordy! The Best of Miriam Lord in The Irish Times is published by Irish Times Books and goes on sale on October 30th