Nothing added but time as effervescent Brians keep turning corners on highway to hell

DAIL SKETCH:THERE'S A big difference between turning corners and going around the bend.

The people have known this for some time. It’s taken a lot longer for the penny to drop in Government.

But then, when somebody else drives you everywhere, sitting back and ignoring the road markings becomes something of a habit.

“The cheapest bailout in the world!” declared Brian Lenihan in 2008, when he viewed the stricken banks from his passenger window.

Around the same time, Brian Cowen rolled down the glass and looked out. He couldn’t see Armageddon down the road. In fact, he saw strong “fundamentals” and urged “calm consideration” when it came working out where next to go.

For the last few years, the Two Brians have been turning phantom corners with abandon, opting for the scenic route when the rest of us have already gone well and truly round the bend.

Now it seems they are finally, reluctantly, catching up to the real landscape.

When this chapter of our history comes to be written, it will be called “Cowen and Lenihan: The Bulmers Years – nothing added, but time.” (And a notional 15 billion.) More time-marking yesterday.

Or “Statements on Macroeconomic and Fiscal Outlook,” as it was thrillingly billed in Leinster House.

A less than electrifying day in the Dáil, conducted with all the enthusiasm of a queue outside a herpes clinic.

All the big hitters in our unfolding economic catastrophe got a chance to read a speech. As the day wore on, numbers dropped dramatically in the chamber. Apart from the speakers in possession and their Opposition counterparts, few bothered to sit in and listen.

This debate had been talked up to a huge degree by the Government and welcomed by the main parties. But when the time came, it was the usual combination of talk and indifference.

Labour, Fine Gael and Sinn Féin deputies dismissed the proceedings as a charade.

Some observers were cynical enough to wonder if the entire exercise was an elaborate production to cover the absence of some members who had booked holidays for the midterm break. This time last year, the house didn’t sit for the October week. Now, while the Dáil is open for business, no votes will be taken as all the time has been allotted to statements.

If the cynics, God help us, are correct, then there will be no roll call of the missing to highlight their absence.

Surely not.

Enda Kenny tried to inject a note of drama. “The days of bluffing and false promises are now over and the harsh reality has dawned”, intoned the Fine Gael leader, before getting in a sneaky little cut at the ministerial motorcade that provided the abiding image of Monday’s Cabinet meeting.

They looked “like members of the Anglo-Irish ascendancy returning to the big house”. That got a laugh. But not from the Government.

Their Farmleigh skite has backfired on them big time.

They must have suspected it wouldn’t go down well – although a bit slower than everyone else, as is their wont – when reporters at the gates of Farmleigh began to ask what would be served for dinner that night.

(Apparently, the meeting was held in the stately home because the Dublin marathon was happening on the same day and might impede access to Government buildings. However, as the meeting didn’t begin until 7pm, the runners and walkers would have well cleared Merrion Street by then. It doesn’t engender confidence in their ability to plan things very well.) A Government press officer dealt with the queries on the night. “There is no dinner!” he repeated, with growing irritation. Just light refreshments, we hear.

And we were transported back to Bertie Ahern at the Mahon tribunal and his digout pal Michael Wall. He attended the whip-around gathering in Manchester but technically didn’t, because, according to Bertie’s logic he “didn’t have the dinner”. In the Government’s case, a last supper, perhaps?

Back to yesterday, where Brian Cowen talked of his imminent four-year austerity plan. The scale of “adjustment” will be “somewhat frontloaded”, he told the Dáil. That’s code for the unleashing of a savage package of spending cuts.

“Stark” choices now face his Government.

As it stands, he reckons the Department of Corrections (formerly Finance) will have to find €15 billion over the next four years to keep the EU wolves from the door. But it could be more. It could be less.

“The €15 billion figure is a forecast . . . If we perform better than 2.75 per cent annual growth, the level of uplift we must take with regard to cutting expenditure and raising taxes will not be as great,” he explained.

Adjustment. Correction. Uplift. It’s like open season in a lingerie department, and the Taoiseach wants support.

He didn’t get much yesterday.

A five-year-old might believe in the tooth fairy, but this country would be unwise “to put its faith in the confidence fairy”, said Eamon Gilmore.

Stranger things have happened. After all, the Labour leader stunned Leinster House when he put forward some of his party’s ideas. For a time, there was a big worry that he might have injured himself falling off the fence, but he was fine.

Fine Gael’s Michael Noonan, who made the best contribution of the day, spoke of how the public is worried about what might happen. “The anger is nearly gone out of them and they’re down.” He didn’t think much of the €15 billion adjustment figure. “I don’t know whether you had a punt in the dark on your way out from Farmleigh.” His party needs more hard figures. “We’re not buying in. We need more information.” Labour’s Joan Burton tried to look on the bright side. “We are looking for a sign of hope. A ray of light,” she pleaded, dressed from head to toe in black.

Green leader, John Gormley played the consensus card. Again. “I haven’t given up hope,” he sighed.

All in good time, for the Bulmers crew.

More of the same today.

Corners to be turned, as we all go around the bend.