Offaly's faithful suppress their glee as Day of Elevation looms for local hero

True believers of the taoiseach-in-waiting are preparing a short but sweet celebration, writes Deaglán de Bréadún , Political…

True believers of the taoiseach-in-waiting are preparing a short but sweet celebration, writes Deaglán de Bréadún, Political Correspondent in the midlands

IT USED to be said that Fine Gael was the party of postponed pleasure and Fianna Fáil the party of postponed pain. But yesterday it was the Fianna Fáil folk who were suppressing their whoops of delight at the impending elevation of local hero Brian Cowen to party leader and head of Government.

What, no bonfires? A long-time activist lowered his voice to a whisper: "It wouldn't be appropriate."

The decencies had to be observed: Bertie wasn't officially stepping-down until May 7th.

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The following Saturday, May 10th, has been designated as a day of celebration.

Moves are afoot to hold a civic reception in Tullamore, home of the taoiseach-in-waiting. But it will be business as usual the following Monday, in the best traditions of no-nonsense former leader SeáLemass, whose spirit Cowen invoked after the vote at last Wednesday's parliamentary party meeting. Forget the Old Cowen; meet the New Cowen.

Can the Offaly people hold their emotions in check until May 10th, that is the question.

Sources close to Cowen's entourage in Tullamore said every spare bus in the region was booked-up for the Day of Elevation, when Bertie Ahern formally hands over the golden sceptre to his anointed successor. The problem with this, said a worried Cowenista, is that Leinster House just isn't big enough to hold the taoiseach-designate's admirers.

Offaly is known as "The Faithful County". For the time being at least, Offaly will be faithful to Cowen; even Fine Gael councillor Mollie Buckley paid tribute to his work as a public representative.

On arrival in Tullamore, Cowen's first duty was to open the new offices of DeafHear.ie which was previously known as the National Association for Deaf People. Using a scissors so big it could have doubled as a bishop's crozier, he snipped the red ribbon at the organisation's premises on Church Street.

Earlier in the day he had ventured into Charlie McCreevy country when he stopped off at Newbridge to address a lunch hosted by the town's chamber of commerce.

He told an anecdote of how, as a young backbencher, he shared an office in the Dáil with the future European commissioner. Both keen racing fans, they escaped to Punchestown for an afternoon with the gee-gees. Acting on a tip from his older colleague, young Cowen placed a small fortune on a particular horse, which was beaten at the post by a short head.

As they headed back to Leinster House, the disconsolate freshman TD was bemoaning his ill-luck and the loss of such a large amount of money.

"You didn't lose it," said McCreevy. "We know where it is; we'll go back for it another day!"

But that, ladies and gentlemen, was the Old Cowen, even though he was very young at the time. The New Cowen, with his tendency towards fiscal conservatism, would never be so profligate. So goodbye to the 'Biffo' era: it was fun while it lasted.