George Lee was all stardust and sound bites while Maureen O'Sullivan was resolutely low-key, writes MIRIAM LORD
SHOWY DUBLIN South snapped its fingers and demanded attention. Low-key Dublin Central flew beneath the radar and avoided it.
In the RDS on Saturday, the two winning camps stood in vivid contrast to each other. The difference between the George Lee and Maureen O’Sullivan approach was striking.
Former TV commentator George: an irresistible mix of stardust and sound bites, absorbing limelight wherever he goes. Secondary school teacher Maureen: quietly determined and resolutely low-key.
George arrived in an explosion of flash photography with full bandwagon in tow. Maureen arrived with a group of happily self-contained supporters and no handlers.
They represented vastly different constituencies. They held conflicting ideologies. He was the party man backed by a big spend. She was the independent woman managing on a shoestring budget.
Camp Lee went mad with untrammelled rejoicing. Apart from her arrival and victory announcement, the O’Sullivan brigade was hardly noticed in the hall.
But despite all their differences, by Saturday night they shared one big achievement – winners both and the newest members of the 30th Dáil.
Celebrity financial conscience George was the sexy story. Everyone knew he was going to take the seat in Dublin South. “Looks like he’ll be assumed into heaven before noon,” Pat Rabbitte announced on the radio.
Maureen was The Gregory Candidate, running to retain a non-party voice in the Dáil for working-class communities in Dublin Central. The late Tony Gregory and his group worked tirelessly at this unglamorous end of politics, earning respect across party lines from voters who returned him again and again to Leinster House. It was his legacy that Maureen O’Sullivan and the Gregory group successfully sought to continue.
The soon-to-be-deputy O’Sullivan arrived at the count having been out at Baldoyle to check how her Leaving Cert students got on in the deferred English paper. She refused to count chickens until the final result and kept an eye on the council election to see how she was getting on there. (Just as swimmingly.) As for the Fine Gael people, they were growing more hysterical by the minute, texting updates on George’s ETA. He would, for that extra frisson, be in the company of none other than party leader, Inda.
With photographers in a state of perspiring anxiety, runaway winner George, his family and political entourage, finally landed in the early afternoon. There was pandemonium.
Lee was swamped by cameras, microphones and recorders. In a scrum reminiscent of Michael McDowell’s appearance in the RDS after the general election, a handler tried to keep the media back, but failed.
George launched into his first interview. Maybe it was the shock, but he never stopped talking after that.
A cheer came from the body of the hall when news of his arrival came through. Unfortunately, George was stuck in the lobby with Enda because everyone else was stuck in the double doors.
“Just snuggle in!” a photographer instructed the bewildered Lee family. “Enda, give it loads!” And the FG leader did what he always does in this situation: grinned like a half-wit and gave the thumbs up.
Ah yes. George. Gorgeous George. The People’s Princess.
This was an occasion of great joy among the Blueshirts, so in traditional Irish fashion, they marked it by bursting into a mortifying round of “Óle, Óle, Óle, Óle, George Lee, George Lee!” It was lashing rain outside. Inside, the sky was falling on Fianna Fáil. Supporters – few enough of them – watched the Fine Gael celebrations from a distance, deeply disconsolate under dark clouds of their own.
George was interviewed by RTÉ radio. A crowd gathered.
Three ladies in crumpled linen, accessorised to the teeth with large necklaces and painted straw, were weak at the knees.
“Look at the colour of Enda. He’s lovely hair!” Then they turned their attention to the man of the moment. “I’d love to give George Lee a hug.”
We feared the Order of Malta would have to attend to them when George declared to Sean O’Rourke: “I am now unconstrained by RTÉ!”
Another Fine Gael lady, dazzled by the twin towers of George and Inda, tripped over a microphone cable and dislocated her shoulder. She made a mercy-dash to a private clinic and was back in time for the victory speech with her arm in a sling.
The party’s candidate in Dublin Central, Senator Paschal Donohoe, came in for the celebrations, despite losing out to Maureen O’Sullivan. Ever enthusiastic – although clearly devastated by the result – he bounded into the arms of his leader, punching the air while waving a startled tot.
In the same constituency, Fianna Fáil’s Maurice Ahern had long since conceded. A veteran Labour stalwart from Ballybough conveyed the news with no small amount of satisfaction: “Dis is de end of de Ahern dysentry.” George kept talking. At 5pm, he was expounding exclusively to the print media. Half an hour later, some of the hacks started to send up distress flares. At this rate, he won’t be holding clinics. It’ll be revivalist meetings in the roomy gazebos of South Dublin.
Inda was only thrilled.
It was past 10 o’clock before Maureen was elected. George, after Enda had showed him off at a second press conference, had departed, so the place was much quieter.
Unlike with George, she wasn’t hoisted shoulder-high but her supporters were every bit as rapturous.
The two new deputies take their seats in the Dáil tomorrow. Maureen should be grand, once she gets over the shock of having to sit with Finian McGrath and Jackie Healy-Rae.
As for George, he’ll be grand too.
Although the Blueshirts have taken the precaution of putting a blanket over his cage until Dáil business resumes, just so everyone can have a bit of a rest.