The rush to court Cowen; Seasonal recipe from Sargent; Norris raises the temperature; Biffo's radio caper; Crowley for president; Willie's winning ways with irony
Scramble in Leinster House to catch the eye of King Cowen
COWEN WEARS the crown. Now the scramble is on to catch the eye of the king.
The transition of power has been dignified and smooth. Fianna Fáil parliamentary party members are doing their utmost to ensure Bertie's departure doesn't disintegrate into a "here's your hat, what's your hurry?" situation.
Nonetheless, now is the time for ambitious deputies to make an impression.
Take what happened on the Friday after Bertie's announcement. It had been confirmed that Brian Cowen was not going to be challenged for the Fianna Fáil leadership, and he was due to make a statement on the plinth.
Some of the party's photo-op jockeys lingered around the Leinster House car park, ready to jump in front of the cameras at a moment's notice.
Tánaiste Cowen's black Mercedes drew up at the Kildare Street gates, engine idling while the security ramps were lowered. A dark haired woman sat in the front seat beside the driver. She was the only passenger. Three heavily laden grocery bags rested at her feet.
Biffo's car purred slowly around the tarmac. Suddenly, a dark suited figure raced across the plinth.
The vehicle stopped at the main entrance. The man scuttled up to it at considerable speed. He made a grab for the passenger door. Did he open it? He nearly wrenched it off its hinges.
The female passenger shrank back in alarm. The man was grinning in at her like his life depended on it.
"Mary! Mary!" gushed the panting politician at the speechless woman, whose name is not Mary. "I've met you before!" Whereupon he made an energetic attempt to assist her from the car, despite being weak at the knees with excitement.
"Michael Mulcahy!" he trilled. "I've met you before!" The flummoxed catering staff member didn't know what to say. She had only popped over to Dunnes Stores to do a few messages. It transpires that Brian Cowen's driver was driving to the Dáil when he spotted her struggling along St Stephen's Green with her shopping bags. He stopped and gave her a lift.
And then the deputy for Dublin South Central jumped to the wrong conclusion.
It would appear the backbencher and practising barrister doesn't take much notice of the workers in Leinster House who do such an excellent job supplying him and his colleagues with their rashers, buns and gargle. Or perhaps it was a bout of interregnum hysteria that made Michael mistake the popular staffer for Mary Cowen, otherwise known as The Wife of Brian.
Still, Deputy Mulcahy's day wasn't entirely wasted. In the middle of his shameless overtures to the lady who is not Mrs Cowen, Mr Cowen pitched up at the plinth. Whereupon the gallant Mulcahy immediately abandoned the shell-shocked occupant of the Merc and sprinted off to Brian's side.
He finally got his reward: he appeared on the RTÉ news at 6pm, at his future leader's shoulder, smiling for Ireland.
Wonder if he got the chance to tell Brian he'd just bumped into Mary . . . The reality is, politicians must stop saying "the reality is," after which they should hunt down and shoot "the elephant in the room". It is time for some new political cliches.
On Tuesday, in the course of a lecture on climate change, Minister for the Environment John Gormley went some way towards exterminating the all pervasive elephant metaphor. By the time he finished speaking, it was unfit for human consumption.
"There is a saying about contemplating such enormous challenges, which uses the metaphor of an individual faced with the prospect of eating an elephant. The message is that it is easier not to think about the enormity of the task, but rather focus on one bite at a time." The po-faced Gormley continued: "As a non-meat eater, I'm not completely comfortable with the analogy, but it does serve to make a relevant point." News for you, John. Most carnivores aren't exactly at home with the thought of eating an elephant either.
He continued: "It would be easy to become overwhelmed by the dangers of climate change and the complexity, depth and breadth of the response that is required . . . The good news is that we are only expected to take responsibility for less than 1 per cent of global emissions. To put it another way, less than 1 per cent of this elephant is on our plate." Jumbo burgers all round at the Greens conference this weekend.
Why Trevor Sargent really digs parsnips
Minister of State and former leader of the Greens Trevor Sargent should be in good spirits at the Dundalk dig-in. The first spuds may be finished but parsnips are in season.
Vegetable tart Trevor is thrilled. He has, of course, issued a press release.
"Like many of our well-known vegetables, the parsnip was brought to north Europe by ancient Romans, who occupied Britain for 400 years. The Romans called it the 'pastinaca' from the Latin 'pastinare' meaning 'to dig up the ground'. The Britons combined the words 'pastinaca' and 'turnip' to get parsnip. In Ireland, the parsnip was known as 'meacan bán' meaning 'white tuber'," says Trevor. "Whatever one calls the sweet parsnip, it is now at its best as frost has the effect of bringing out its characteristic sweet flavour."
Boom! Boom!
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Bertie.
Bertie who?
A week is a long time in politics.
Senator Norris is never stuck for words
A quiet Thursday morning in the Dáil bar is interrupted by the unmistakable shriek of the Norris, rattling the coffee cups and frightening the schoolchildren.
For it is David Norris, standing inside the door with his mobile phone clamped to his ear and his temper rising.
"I-I-I'm a serious politician!" shouts the red faced senator. "I've done a lot of useful work in the senate, I'll have you know!" There is a brief lull as the person on the other end of the line tries to placate the Joycean scholar.
"Well you can go and stick it! Stick your award!" The schoolchildren are agog.
"I'm one of the most respected campaigners in this place. I'm sick to the back teeth of being nominated for these awards by the likes of Magill . . . and, and" he spat out the letters "VIP!" Then the senator let out a pitiful wail: "I am not a clothes-horse!" The person on the other end spoke again, obviously explaining that the Magill Politician of the Year awards are chosen by a panel of 13 political correspondents.
"Fine! Fine! Well you can tell the political correspondents they can stick it as well!" roared David. It was marvellous stuff.
We met him afterwards, when he had calmed down. Slightly. Senator Norris, wearing a very fetching grey three-piece suit, said he was just fed up getting nominated for the best-dressed awards.
Anyway, the awards ceremony, which is always good fun, is on Wednesday evening in the Royal Irish Academy on Dawson Street. PJ Mara is to receive a lifetime award for his service to Irish politics, whispering in corners and high-grade gossip. David Norris will not be present. Should he beat Senator Ger Feeney and Billy Kelleher TD, the people at Magill know what they can do with the gong.
Stick it.
Big Phil gets the Biffo treatment in studio
It was great fun around Leinster House on Wednesday. Brian Cowen is a popular man on all sides and there was much goodwill for him on becoming leader-elect and taoiseach in waiting. After his first press conference, he ambled off to do the RTÉ lunchtime radio news.
The Kildare Street studio is very small, and Tánaiste Cowen did his interview with Fine Gael's Phil Hogan sitting next to him. Big Phil had a sheet of paper outlining the main points he wanted to make about Cowen's legacy in the Department of Finance - rising unemployment, etc.
As the Tánaiste was finishing, Deputy Hogan quietly pushed the paper under Brian's nose. He stifled a smile and kept talking.
There was a short break before the Fine Gael man went on. The microphones, mercifully, were off.
"Aah, would you give us 24 effin' hours before you start kicking the shite out of us?" said Biffo to big Phil, as he beetled out the door. That's why they like him.
Earlier in the day, his wife Mary politely but firmly laid down a marker for the future with the journalists who approach her for a comment. "I'm not the politician. I'd rather not," she told them.
Ms Cowen enjoyed the day, but the emotion of the occasion got to her when she met former MEP and TD for Laois-Offaly Liam Hyland, who soldiered in elections with Brian's late father, Ber.
The two met after taoiseach-designate Cowen had been feted on the plinth by his parliamentary party colleagues. Liam was so proud of Ber's son, he burst into tears and he and Mary had a quiet sob, unnoticed by the cameras.
Crowley eyes up an Áras opportunity
All the Fianna Fáil MEPs were in town for Biffo's elevation. Among them, their leader in Europe, Brian Crowley. Word from the Continent (and Cork) is that Brian is very serious about making a bid to become the next president on the Fianna Fáil ticket. He reckons that with his strong Munster base, he has the votes to build a formidable challenge.
Brian is also used to the finer things in life in Brussels, where, as co-president of the UEN - Europe for Nations - group, he has access to a chauffeur driven car and a budget for staff.
On Tuesday, he met Nicolas Sarkozy at the Elysée Palace, for talks in advance of the French presidency of the EU. He looked quite at home in his surroundings.
Memoirs of a scribe in Cowen's county
There's nothing like getting in ahead of the posse, and journalist Declan McSweeney certainly knows how to pick his moment. McSweeney, who worked in Offaly for 20 years and now works in London for Associated Press, published his memoirs this week. A Scribe in Cowen's Countryis his account of his experiences in the Offaly Expressfrom 1988 to 2007, and in the Offaly Independentfrom 1987 to 1988.
The book has two main themes - the evolution of Brian Cowen's political career from backbencher to future taoiseach, and the transition of Offaly to a multi-ethnic society. The book is available from Offaly Historical and Archaeological Society.
Willie O'Dea's best invitation ever
Carlsberg don't do irony, but if they did . . . they'd be beaten into second place by Willie O'Dea and Bertie Ahern.
Isn't this just the best invitation ever: "The Minister for Defence, Mr Willie O'Dea, TD, invites you to attend the launch of the handbook, Preparing for Major Emergencies, by An Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, TD." The launch is on Monday morning at the National Emergency Co-ordination Centre in Dublin. (And no we haven't a clue, either.) Journalists have been asked to gather in the reception area of Agriculture House, from where they will be escorted to the National Emergency Centre. Latecomers, we presume, will be able to take a taxi to St Luke's.
" Aah, would you give us 24 effin' hours before you start kicking the shite out of us?" said Biffo to Big Phil Hogan as he beetled out the door