Christmas cannot mask budget reality

Dáil sketch:By this afternoon in Kildare Street, Joy to the World will be dead to the world.

There won’t be any glad tidings of comfort and joy in Leinster House today. And as soon as the budget is announced, we’ll have a ding-dong massively on high in the Dail chamber.

So. How did our politicians get over the Christmas? Quickly.

It was done and dusted in a day. Tree up. Lights on. Carols sung. Merry Christmas to one and all.

That was it.

And back to the reality of a brutal budget and a plague on all your baubles . . .

They may have been singing Jingle Bells out on Leinster lawn, but it was hard to feel festive with the theme tune from Jaws playing on imaginary loop around the corridors of power.

The timing of the annual switch-on of the Christmas tree lights – and associated yuletide warbling – was a bit unfortunate yesterday. Political minds were definitely not in holiday mood as the countdown to one of the most feared budgets in recent times neared its end.

The Ceann Comhairle – assisted by Seanad Cathaoirleach Paddy Burke – did the honours as usual, surrounded by the Taoiseach, Tánaiste, leaders of the main parties and assorted Senators. It was bitterly cold. This permitted Enda and the boys (tree-wise men, anybody?) to smile through grimly gritted teeth and not appear like they wanted to punch each other.

Michéal Martin arrived on the lawn without his topcoat. “It wasn’t deliberate” he shivered, as a flunkie careered through the revolving doors with his navy crombie.

The Oireachtas choir – they were the singers wearing the Santa hats – sang a selection of carols and the Trinity Chapel Choir –250 years old this year – shivered in their surplices and beautifully reciprocated.

This was the Taoiseach’s second carol session of the day. Earlier, he met the boys of the Palestrina Choir at Government Buildings to mark the launch of their Christmas Carol Concert, which is this Sunday night in the National Concert Hall.

Hypothermia

The boy sopranos were glad of their heavy blue cassocks as they waited on the steps for Enda to arrive. Given the Taoiseach’s poor record in the timekeeping department, the lads were in grave danger of getting hypothermia and as the clock ticked by, we willed the winsome mites to break into a feeble chorus of “Why Are We Waiting”. But they’re too good for that sort of carry-on, so we hummed it under our breaths for them.

The choir – at least the male wing of it – has been invited to Rome to sing for the pope on January 6th – one of just two choirs to have been given this honour in 500 years.

The Pro-Cathedral also has a Palestrina girl’s choir. But they haven’t been asked to Rome.

Enda wore a Christmassy red tie with little snowy dots for the occasion and he stood in the middle of the choirboys with his little angelic face on him. Observers marvelled at the scene. The Taoiseach didn’t high-five any of the lads. That must be a first. Enda can’t usually pass anyone under the age of 18 without throwing a high-five.

Rising tension

It must have been the worry over the budget. The sense of impending trouble in Leinster House transmitted itself to the chamber for Leaders’ Questions, where the Taoiseach seemed to overcompensate for the rising tension by giddily saying nothing.

The Fianna Fáil leader returned to his favourite subject – the woes of the Minister for Health – and noted he wasn’t in the chamber. James Reilly was “the elephant in the room”. Minutes later, Dicey skipped lightly into the chamber and all but danced down the steps to his seat.

Not bad for an elephant.

The tree ceremony was scheduled for 5pm, but thanks to the usual messing in the Dáil, it was delayed by over half an hour. The Ceann Comhairle did his best to speed things up. “We have to switch the lights on yet!” he roared. Finally, the main cast made good its escape and Leinster House’s brief festive season could begin.

The choristers found themselves competing with the hymns and prayers floating across from the anti-abortion rally on Kildare Street.

“I think this is a very joyous occasion” declared the Ceann Comhairle (or Crann Comhairle, as we like to call him every year when he does his tree business). “This country has gone through a very difficult time and throwing a bit of light and a bit of cheer on the whole of Christmas is an important thing in our lives” said Seán Barrett, flicking the switch and bathing the grounds in a warm glow.

“I hope that this symbolic turning on of the lights will turn on light in all our lives and that we begin smiling and being positive towards each other again” he gurgled, as the party leaders eyed each other and everybody tried not to think of the budget.

“I wish you all a very happy, prosperous Christmas and a prosperous new year” concluded the Ceann Comhairle, instantly plunging everyone into a dark depression.

“I wish you all a happy Christmas – we have some little matters to attend to in between and we will do it in the interests of the people of this country,” said Enda.

And joy was unconfined.