Politicians roll up sleeves for World Kidney Day

With the coffee and the kidneys and the four nutty gizzards who turned up from Leinster House, it was like a Bloomsday breakfast in March yesterday. If only word had reached across the road to Senator Norris, the picture would have been complete.

Oh, but they were brave boys: Bertie Ahern, Enda Kenny, Pat Rabbitte and John Gormley. They were in Buswells Hotel to publicise today's World Kidney Day and highlight the importance of early detection in slowing the progress of kidney disease.

It is estimated that about 180,000 Irish people have some form of significant kidney disease, and most are unaware of the fact.

However, a simple blood test can identify whether the disease exists, and at what level.

The Irish Kidney Association and the Irish Nephrology Society have launched a "Know Your Kidney" campaign to encourage members of the public to take this test, and the party leaders attended a mobile clinic to show support.

A large media contingent arrived with them, salivating at the prospect of some political bloodletting. Taoiseach Bertie Ahern and deputies Enda Kenny, Pat Rabbitte and John Gormley posed with kidney donor cards in front of a large screen. Behind it, nurses with needles sat waiting by two leather couches. The four smiled uneasily as the photographers got to work. Somebody draped a green stethoscope around John Gormley's neck. John was filling in for his leader, Trevor Sargent, who is laid up with a bad back.

The Green Party TD applied the stethoscope to the Labour leader's chest and declared he couldn't find a pulse. Bertie and Enda went into convulsions when he declared he might locate Pat's pulse but he would never find a heart.

"It's actually down a bit," wheezed the Fine Gael leader, who has a heavy cold. "I'm glad you're not operating," chortled Bertie Ahern.

Then the four were asked to roll up their sleeves, which they did amid much rattling of cufflinks. They thrust bare forearms towards the cameras, like bare-knuckle fighters approaching the weigh-in. More nurses loomed. "Any volunteers?" shouted a consultant.

Bertie went a little grey in the face. "I've got a terrible dose of the flu," cried Enda plaintively. Pat got a signal from an adviser. "Have to take an important call from London." "Goodbye now!" The three were out the door faster than a public patient in a private clinic.

Only John Gormley remained. He went behind the screen and had a test.

Socialist Party leader Joe Higgins had already given his last drop of blood in a symbolic gesture on behalf of downtrodden Irish workers.

Fine Gael's Jim O'Keeffe was in the next cubicle, peering at his test tube. "I think there's a drop of royalty in that," he mused.

PD leader Michael McDowell arrived late, unaware that three of his counterparts hadn't braved the needle.

Surrounded by doctors and nurses, he managed a wan smile. "I'm crocked like Enda," he pleaded. "I've a terrible cold too." Too late. The nurse already had a hold of his wrist. "His pulse is racing," she declared.

Before he knew it, the Tánaiste was sitting on a couch and rolling up his sleeve.

"I know what the newspapers would do with this." (So did Bertie and the other pair, which is why they left.) "I won't faint," squeaked the Minister for Justice, bravely proffering his arm. We looked away.

But he was fine, as were all the other deputies and Senators who came to support World Kidney Day, demonstrating how quick and painless it is to take the test.

Know your kidney? Sure don't I know your kidney, and your kidney's father and mother and all belonging to it, and I hope they won't forget me on polling day . . .