An Irishman's Diary

What has the humble pencil ever done to offend Bertie Ahern? Seriously

What has the humble pencil ever done to offend Bertie Ahern? Seriously. Did it poke him in the eye once when he was a schoolboy? Did it burst all his balloons? Or did his nib break during a last-minute homework assignment, condemning him to six of the best from a Christian Brother?

Only such a childhood trauma could explain the vehemence of this normally soft-spoken man towards the continued use in the Irish electoral system of what he calls "stupid aul' pencils".

Last week was not the first time he said it made us a "laughing stock" in the

eyes of the world (another overstatement, considering the wide range of things the world could laugh at us for, if it's in the humour). But leaving aside the merits of e-voting, and before the Taoiseach goes the whole hog by joining inner-city children on a Christmas single called "Give up Yer Aul' Pencils", I feel compelled to defend the honour of this noble writing instrument.

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Mr Ahern is correct to say that the pencil is old. Even the modern version dates from about 1564 and the discovery of solid graphite deposits in northern England. By coincidence, this was also the year England gave another of its greatest gifts to the world: William Shakespeare. We could debate whether Shakespeare or the graphite pencil has since made the more valuable contribution to art (although if you don't mind, we won't).

There are no grounds, however, for calling the pencil "stupid". It is, of course, an urban myth that the space agency NASA once spent a fortune trying to develop a gravity-independent pen before realising that a pencil would do. But it is a fact that pencils were smart enough to be used on space missions until the Apollo 1 fire and that they are still used aboard the International Space Station.

Even on earth, meanwhile, the pencil is still sometimes indispensable, as any reporter knows. Try using a ballpoint pen in the rain while keeping scores at a Leinster schools cup match, for example. Then try telling Mrs O'Carroll-Kelly that her son's length-of-the-pitch intercept try was omitted from your report because it coincided with a heavy shower.

Far from being stupid, the pencil is a precision instrument. A good art shop will offer up to 20 different models on the HB (hard/black) spectrum, ranging from 9H at the hardest extreme to 9B at the softest (or blackest) end. I discovered this the embarrassing way some years ago during a night course in life drawing. My status as a raw student notwithstanding, I turned up for the first class with - how I blush now at my naivety! - a 7H! The pencil wasn't so much suited to drawing the nude model, as performing plastic surgery on her. Needless to say, I learned my lesson fast. It was sticks of charcoal from then on.

(On that subject, by the way, I was sorry to read recently that Irish art schools are suffering from a severe shortage of models willing to pose nude. Yet this trend seems to be at odds with the numbers of people prepared to run naked across football pitches, golf courses, etc, during televised events. Surely, with imaginative use of community service sentencing, the latter trend could be used to alleviate the former one?)

The pencil can also be an imprecision instrument, as the occasion demands. When the appointments secretary of a busy executive promises to "pencil you in" for 3.15 on the 25th of November, for example, you both know the meeting is a flexible arrangement.

In fact, outside the electoral system, the whole attraction of the pencil is its impermanence. From the time we learn to write, it offers us a second chance when we falter. Maybe this is why nothing afterwards ever smells as sweet as a new school rubber. But the promise of instant redemption from our mistakes follows us throughout our life. Even the most accomplished artist will always use a pencil for his first draft.

Many pencils come complete with their own little prophylactics on top (which, without getting graphic, suggests a role for them in school-based sex education). And with or without a built-in eraser, the pencil is a design classic. Its typically hexagonal cross-section combines ease of grip with an anti-roll device. And despite its sleekness, it also lends itself as an attractive advertising space, either for the manufacturer or for a sponsor.

Any average-length pencil could carry the message: "Paddy the Plasterer - for all your wall-finishing needs". True, its advertising space diminishes over time, unlike that of a pen. Against which, the pencil is the very model of an environmentally friendly product, reducing and recycling itself until nothing remains.

One final point. When the Taoiseach finally retires and his painted portrait is added to the walls of Leinster House, it will - as we've noted - have first been sketched by a stupid aul' pencil. But then, his portrait has been appearing there for years, in person, painted (at €200 a day) by make-up artists, whose armoury includes yet another form of pencil, the eyeliner.

In summary, the pencil is a bit like the Taoiseach himself. Humble, yet enduring. Multi-faceted. Endlessly adaptable. Sometimes pointed, sometimes blunt, but on the vast majority of occasions, somewhere in between. So maybe the next time the subject comes up in the Dáil, Mr Ahern will reach for a 9B - as it were - and soften his line.