Gay's popularity brings high poll ratings

On the campaign trail Dublin women of a certain age just can't get enough of Fine Gael's candidate for the European Parliament…

On the campaign trail Dublin women of a certain age just can't get enough of Fine Gael's candidate for the European Parliament elections, writes Liam Reid

As he stands on North Earl Street, handing out his literature, it soon becomes clear that Gay Mitchell has a fan club. Dublin ladies of a certain age seem to love "Gay". They can't get enough of him.

Pensioners passing by with their Clerys and Boyers shopping bags, make a beeline for him, saying they "have to stop to have a word with Gay".

He smiles and holds their hands while the ladies tell him what a true Dub he is, what a nice man he is, or how their family came from the same south inner city area as the Mitchell family. Even on a short coffee break in a nearby pub, no less than five women approach, and all wish him their best.

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One goes so far as to express a hope that he won't get elected, afraid that she will lose her beloved local TD. "You won't leave us Gay, will you?" she almost pleads, holding his hand.

Another elderly lady who stopped to talk to Gay was determined to give him a bit of unasked-for advice, however, and the famous Mitchell mouth, which has landed him in controversy before, was unleashed, although in a somewhat muted fashion.

Helena (78) was a lifelong Fine Gael member but she thought the party had been going downhill of late - since 1977 in fact. "Liam Cosgrave was the last strong leader we had - now that was a man who was tough on crime. Since he went out Fine Gael has plummeted down."

The party's senior politicians were all "soft", she thought, and helpless, and that was why they had lost their seats in 2002. "They've done nothing for Fine Gael voters," she said, while "Fianna Fáil got people jobs and houses."

Gay immediately switched from being the boy next door to political terrier. Reminding Helena the party had able politicians like Alan Shatter and his own late brother, Jim, he said they lost their seats in 2002 "because greedy people were told by the Government to 'party on', and they did".

Later on, Mitchell says he believes in telling it as he sees it. "I think people expect politicians to say 'yes' to them and tell them they're right, and go along with whatever they say. But if I'd let that go she'd have gone off confident in her views."

Gay Mitchell acknowledges the age profile of the supporters he seems to be attracting, but says he is not concerned. Young Fine Gael is "bursting with new members" in Irish universities, he says, while he points to the four relatively young men in their 20s and 30s who make up his canvassing team that day.

The Dublin candidate's days are fairly well structured. An early morning canvass at a train station or busy junction, followed by a coffee morning in a different area of the city every day. Lunchtime is spent canvassing in the city, and it's back to another train or DART station at rush hour. Shopping centres are another target, usually in the afternoons or evenings, as are local party functions at night.

The canvassing style is low key. He stands in the middle of the street, as four to five canvassers hand out his literature - a question and answer booklet on the European Union - which he wrote himself. Gay Mitchell readily admits he is finding limited interest in the European Parliament, wherever he goes. Local issues predominate. "By and large most issues people raise with you are disengaged from Europe," he says.

During the hour he spends on North Earl Street, in the shadow of the Spire, homelessness, pension rights, planning, parking and crime are all mentioned by people who stop to talk to the Fine Gael candidate. With the exception of immigration, nothing remotely European is mentioned.

Another challenge facing Gay Mitchell's campaign is complacency. With nearly a full quota according to the recent Irish Times/TNS mrbi opinion poll, he is one of the surest bets in next month's elections.

Trotting out the political adage that the only poll that matters is the one on election day, Mitchell believes it would be a mistake to rest on his laurels. "I don't think we should take people for granted."

This election is the first Gay Mitchell has fought since the death of his brother, Jim, and the first he has fought without him in his 25-year political career.

Five years ago it was Jim who was running for the European elections, unsuccessfully as it turned out. Jim's wife, Patsy, is helping on her brother-in-law's campaign. "Of course I still miss him. It's only 17 months since he died," says Mitchell, whose other brother and sister also died young. "You feel it in a real way. His name comes up quite regularly on canvass in one shape or another. People are always mentioning him, and we were seen as a team."

While most commentators believe Gay Mitchell still has ministerial ambitions, the politician himself says he has not made any decision on his political future and may decide to remain in Europe if he can work on areas of interest such as external relations and development policy.

"People make the presumption I will run for the Dáil, but I may like it [in Europe]," he says.