It was a sorry collection of Fianna Fáil and Green deputies that trooped into the Dáil yesterday afternoon, writes MIRIAM LORD
AND SO came the day, Nama Day, when all the Distressed Assets were gathered together for the first time since their world collapsed around them.
Or since Leinster House closed for the summer holidays.
What value would you put on them now? Would you even buy them for tuppence at a cake sale, never mind at a general election? Biffo and his Distressed Assets trooped into the Government benches at 2.30 in the afternoon, a sorry collection of Fianna Fáil and Green deputies. Many already sported new session haircuts, but there were no indications of an upside in their worried expressions.
They know they face a very real risk of further generous discounts when they go to the market for support. Judged on current value, many would not survive.
Confronted by such a large collection of impaired deputies – the opening Dáil session was televised live – the depth and gravity of the situation facing the nation hit home.
This depressing picture wasn’t helped by the sight of the Ceann Comhairle ascending the chair to kick-start proceedings by reading out a prayer. John O’Donoghue, despite the fact that he is now in a role that is Above Politics, is one of the most Distressed Assets in the House.
There they were, backbenchers and Ministers, back from the holliers and propped up on the counter of the Dáil chamber, with the biggest liabilities gazing glumly across the floor like a pair of doggies in a pet shop window.
Brian Cowen and Bertie Ahern – the Allied Irish and Anglo Irish of the 30th Dáil – sat in the outside first and last seats, neatly bookending the grim Government balance sheet from top row to bottom line.
Minister for Finance Brian Lenihan ran the show yesterday. According to the experts, he’s one of the few who might still realise his potential if he plays his cards right. In economic parlance, Lenihan might be lucky to emerge from this debacle with his face wiped. Most of the rest can only look forward to having their eyes wiped on election day.
So many strands to this distressing story – an unsavoury tale that keeps on giving.
Sinn Féin’s Arthur Morgan added to the air of helplessness when he treated television viewers to a taste of the sort of antics that give parliamentary politics a bad name and give worried taxpayers a fit of the vapours.
This Dáil session was billed as one of the most important ever in the history of the State. The Nama legislation was about to begin its final journey, and its impact on the country will affect citizens for decades to come. A day for getting the head down to some serious debating and legislating. A day for showing why the calibre of our elected representatives is so important, and why the results of the work they do is of such magnitude in the lives of ordinary people.
Step forward, Arthur Morgan, and take a bow.
He chose this occasion to pull what Labour’s Eamon Gilmore labelled “a parliamentary stunt”. With Lenihan ready to deliver the results of his Government’s “exhaustive, bottom-up process” of finalising the Nama legislation, and the Opposition ready to engage in meaningful discussion, Deputy Morgan decided to engage in a bottom-up exercise of his own. Under the guise of a point of order, Arthur called on the Taoiseach to apologise to the people of Ireland for lying about the property bubble, and called on the Government to apologise for robbing the taxpayers.
To howls of frustration from deputies on all sides, and wails of protest from the poor beleaguered Bull in the chair, Arthur refused to shut up. Perhaps the fact that his party leader, Gerry Adams, was beaming down from the visitors’ gallery had something to do with his outburst.
Twice, the House was suspended. This was not the sort of attention needed by John O’Donoghue (On the plus side though, it might have given The Bull a chance to take in a couple of horse races on the telly.) Following protracted negotiations with the Superintendent of the House and the Captain of the Guard, bolstered in the closing moments by the arrival of Big Martin, the beefiest of Dáil ushers, Arthur finally stopped playing to the disgusted gallery.
“Following discussion with my colleagues, we have decided that I will withdraw,” he said huffily, before taking his leave. Gerry hopped out of the gallery ahead of him and the two exited together.
The incident provided the day’s only example of cross-party unity, when Government deputies applauded Enda Kenny and Eamon Gilmore after they called on Arthur to cop himself on.
With this being such a big day, Bertie Ahern graced the chamber with his presence. He chatted outside the railing with deputies Tom McEllistrim, Timmy Dooley and Frank Fahey. They seemed engrossed in what the former taoiseach was saying – perhaps he was giving them a sneak preview of his sports column in next Sunday’s News of the World.
Young Tom is swanning with the greats this week – he was also spotted at Listowel races with the Ceann Comhairle, who was cruelly deprived of a fourth day at the Kerry track due to the demands of office.
Meanwhile, Gerry Adams had to suffer his own punishment after his political protege’s juvenile carry-on in the chamber. Senator Donie Cassidy, glimpsing the Sinn Féin leader in the VIP seats, bounded over and sat beside him, talking into his ear for what must have seemed like an eternity.
Donie managed to force Gerry from the House far more quickly than The Bull managed with Arthur. When the honourable member for West Belfast returned, he found himself sharing the small gallery with Julian King, CMG, Her Majesty’s ambassador to Ireland. Mr King was visiting the Dáil for the first time in his new role, and he chose a good day.
Finally, Brian Lenihan got down to his exposition of the bottom-up process that is Nama.
In a nutshell, €77 billion of distressed assets – Biffo, Bertie, The Bull, Cabinet and backbenchers not included – are to be bought at a 30 per cent discount.
Sounding like an amateur plastic surgeon, Brian envisaged a less than 10 per cent uplift in Nama’s assets over a 10-year period. He spoke for three-quarters of an hour, as the Distressed Assets tried to keep up. Bertie buried himself in the accompanying document, looking less than overjoyed.
Across the floor, the Opposition number-crunchers got to work with their highlighter pens, calculators and notepads. Pat Rabbitte loosened his tie, shaking his head and sniffing. There appeared to be smoke coming off George Lee’s pen, while Richard Bruton wrote in different coloured ink on a blizzard of paper. Joan Burton had a sheaf of papers on the go, the contents of a stationery cupboard beside her elbow and the ear of Eamon Gilmore.
The Distressed Assets applauded their man when he finished his speech, which the Opposition would later say was very short on specifics. It was heavy on Barack Obama references though, which these days is rather lazy. “Nama is our bold, upfront action” he concluded, to snorts of derision from across the way.
Richard Bruton was good. So good that quite a few of the Distressed Assets remained in the chamber to listen to him. Joan was even better, despite the fact her voice kept giving out because she forgot to bring her Strepsils.
The Distressed Assets escaped to their offices and to the bar, there to hide from the people from Nama. But it’s only a matter of time before they too are hoovered up and given a shave.