Fine Gael e-mailer comes a GM cropper; talk of fighting and robbing in the Seanad; fashion crisis hits the Four Courts; the Dáil bar turns blue; the Bull turns bard; Ivor Callely has his eagle eye on Burma; and a stick fit for a queen
It's a slow day in the office. Then an e-mail lands in the Fianna Fáil adviser's in-box. His eyes light up when he sees the title: "Briefing Document for Fine Gael".
He opens the message to find Fine Gael's new 13-page strategy on the GMO issue has landed in his lap. They sent it to the enemy by mistake.
It begins "GMOs and Ireland: 10 years of poor FF-led policy." The opening paragraph begins thus: "Since 1997, Fianna Fáil governments have repeatedly flip-flopped the issue of GMOs. This recently came to a head on September 28th, 2007 when Green Party Minister Trevor Sargent dramatically changed stated policy regarding a 'GM Free Ireland' by stating 'GM free zone is not about banning imported GM feed' (possible draft Dáil questions, below on pg. 5.)" And on it goes, with page after page of background rebuttal material, full of quotes from Fianna Fáil and Green politicians.
Suggested Dáil questions include one for Trevor Sargent.
"Does Minister Sargent agree that this nation's food supply is not an issue for party political sound bites but rather political decisions made on the basis of scientifically sound independent advice?"
Lots of examples of previous statements are highlighted before a possible question for Minister Dempsey is offered: "Did Noel Dempsey, in his programme for government discussions with the Greens, forget the conclusions of his own tax payer-supported public consultations?" All that hard work for nothing. They're certainly green in Fine Gael now, but for all the wrong reasons. But Trevor Sargent had an extra pep in his step last week, and they're still laughing in Fianna Fáil.
Forewarned is forearmed.
Crowds reminiscent of the old Budget Day bunfights packed into Leinster House on Thursday for the launch of Jack Harte's wartime memoirs.
The former Labour senator was joined by friends from politics, the trade union movement and many former colleagues from Guinness.
Fellow Dub Bill Cullen did the honours. Salesman supreme, "Dr Bill" did a marvellous job for his old pal, and copies of To the Limits of Endurance: One Irishman's War were flying out of the Members Restaurant.
In a reference to the title of Bill's bestselling autobiography, Jack told the crowd: "When he was my age, he was selling penny apples. When I was his age, I was robbing them." Meanwhile, next door in the private room, another party for another former senator was in full swing. The gathering was to mark Dr Mary Henry's retirement from the Upper House after 14 years of service.
Fears of a Riverdance-style Celtic revival in the Four Courts have m'learned luds feeling a bit hot under their horsehair.
The judges are set in their ways. Wigs and black gowns have always been the rig-out of choice, and they're comfortable with this apparel.
However, Chief Justice John Murray has signalled to the troops that it might be time to consider a change. In best legal tradition, he draws upon precedent to bolster his argument.
At the foundation of the State, Hugh Kennedy, the first Chief Justice, mooted a move away from the judicial attire of king and empire in favour of something more suited to the emerging Irish nation. In the event, nothing came of his idea.
Now, Four Courts sources say it is back on the blocks again, and imaginations are running riot among some of the more staid members of the judiciary. Words like "Celtic" and "traditional Irish" are being bandied about over the postprandial brandies.
We think it's a brilliant idea. Maybe Michael Flatley could be taken on as a consultant.
Sadly though, leather headbands, turquoise satin blousons and tight trousers probably won't make the cut. Ditto for leprechaun costumes, St Patrick mitres and GAA jerseys.
What appears to be in mind is something along the lines of the rather plain robes worn by members of the European Court. No wigs, and something in a rich green or Irish blue seems likely, with perhaps a tasteful gold harp to represent the State.
Pity.
Further to last week's piece about the newly done-up Dáil bar, and the overwhelming colour therein: blue.
The choice had little to do with aesthetics and all to do with politics.
Various schemes were put to the relevant Oireachtas committee before the refurbishment could go ahead, and all were rejected on grounds of colour.
Green? Too Fianna Fáil, too republican and too, well, Green. Could give offence. Red? Too Labour, and might indicate a left-wing bias, although one assumes Socialist Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, wouldn't have objected. In the end, blue was chosen, despite the obvious Blueshirt connotations.
Honest to God, but serious committee discussions were held on the issue. On more than one occasion.
Blue was deemed acceptable to all, as it has been our national colour since the 12th century. (If you must, write to the Letters Page, not this one.) It is the colour of the carpet in the Dáil, and the colour of the presidential flag.
Even the glass insets in the new small but tall tables that run the length of the bar have an indigo tint. There were worries about them on health and safety grounds, but the problem has been sorted.
The tables have been screwed to the floor. That should take the sting out of any future brawls.
Three cheers for the brave students of Cabinteely Community School, who hid their disappointment so well last Thursday. They had been expecting a large, jolly, red-faced man and must have thought an early Christmas treat was on the way. Instead, they got a visit from Ceann Comhairle John O'Donoghue and a nice lady wearing a lovely Confimation outfit who they knew to be Minister for Education, Mary Hanafin.
The two politicians were launching a pilot run of the new Schools Parliamentary Programme.
This isn't the first time politicians have turned up in Irish schools, The Bull O'Donoghue told them. Senator William Butler Yeats visited a school in Wexford in 1926 to inspect the new curriculum and it inspired him to write Among School Children.
Then The Bull waxed lyrical. "Looking around here today reminds me of how he described the awkwardness of being a man in a suit, perhaps beyond the first flush of youth, being observed by a group of young people with their lives before them: 'the children's eyes/ In momentary wonder stare upon/ A sixty-year-old smiling public man.'
The Ceann Comhairle stressed he wasn't comparing himself to the great WB, "for a start I'm not 60", but he hoped he was a smiling public man. Indeed, he was most lenient with time and latitude during the half-hour question-and-answer session with students. No outbursts of "you won't say that to me, sir, you won't say that to me." But no half-day either. You only get that sort of carry-on in the Dáil.
It is with great joy and relief that we read the latest press release from Senator Ivor Callely, headed: "Callely pledges to keep a close eye on Burma." He notes that, following his request, "Seanad Éireann unanimously voted in support of the Irish Government's call on the military junta of Burma to stop their violence, to respond constructively to the wishes of the Burmese people and to release Aung San Suu Kyi and all other political prisoners." Ivor, splendidly displaying the spirit of The Skibereen Eagle, adds: "I will continue to closely monitor developments in Burma to ensure no human rights abuses and military action taken (sic)." They'll be dancing in the streets of Rangoon tonight.
Following his meeting this week in London with British foreign secretary David Miliband, Minister for Foreign Affairs Dermot Ahern and his entourage repaired to RAF Northolt for their flight home. They were asked to wait in the departure lounge while another flight landed.
As they had a cup of coffee, a jet duly arrived and taxied to a stop before them. The back door opened and six young corgis scuttled happily down the steps. There followed two rather elderly corgis, who took one look and applied the brakes. Whereupon Queen Elizabeth appeared at the door and gently attempted, to no avail, to free the tubby two from their mooring. An aide rushed over and bore them to safety.
When the much anticipated visit of the British monarch finally takes place, the gift of a stout ash plant from the Cooley mountains might well be winging its way back on the queen's flight.