In a classic Monty Python sketch, a composer called Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson appears on a BBC arts show to talk about his new symphony, only to find the interview hopelessly side-tracked by the subject of his nickname, writes Frank McNally.
He explains patiently that, in fact, he only has one shed, but that some years ago he mentioned he was thinking of getting a second, whereupon his friends rechristened him. Unfortunately, this only encourages the interviewer, who wants to know if Jackson wrote the symphony in his old shed ("No") or planned to write it in the new one ("No") until, finally, the guest loses his cool.
Two Sheds Jackson: "No, no. Look. This shed business - it doesn't really matter. The sheds aren't important. A few friends call me "Two Sheds" and that's all there is to it. I wish you'd ask me about the music. Everybody talks about the sheds.
"They've got it out of proportion - I'm a composer. I'm going to get rid of the shed. I'm fed up with it!"
Interviewer: "Then you'll be Arthur "No Sheds" Jackson, eh?"
The sketch came to mind last week when I heard Bertie "Two Tunnels" Ahern speaking in the Dáil. In reality, Bertie has only one tunnel, and it's not even open yet. But there he was during Taoiseach's Questions, regretting that a second Dublin Port tunnel had not been built, to take traffic off the city quays.
"That was the original reason for the suggestion that there should have been two tunnels, one of which would be under the Liffey," he said. "I regret that did not happen. I still think that creates a problem." I can't remember the two-tunnel suggestion myself, and nobody I know seems to remember it either. Maybe it was suggested over a pint in Fagan's one night. But as for the debate that occurred in public, my memory is that there were competing proposals: for a tunnel going east-west under the Liffey, or for the one that we got, going north-south. The Taoiseach's support for the relief of traffic through Drumcondra was a factor in the choice of the latter option, or so I thought.
Bertie's common touch is, of course, legendary. Unlike lesser politicians, he doesn't just understand the man in the street: he is the man in the street. The comments in the Dáil seem to be another example of his extraordinary ability to express the frustrations and desires of the ordinary Joe, who thinks he knows how things could be done better, if only the people in charge would listen.
You might think that spending a decade as the most powerful Taoiseach in the history of the State would have compromised Bertie's ability to play this role. On the contrary. If anything, he gets better every year. Real ordinary Joes (Joe Higgins, for example) must be in awe of his talent.
THEN AGAIN, THE Taoiseach's comments may also have been designed to dampen expectations before the official opening of the port tunnel, which might not have quite the dramatic effect on Dublin's traffic that the public thinks. Tunnels come with a big reputation, being symbols of hope, the emergence from darkness into light, etc. That the Dublin Port version should be opening on the winter solstice (well, December 20th) can only add to its mystical significance for long-suffering commuters.
It's not just Drumcondra that expects deliverance. It's the whole city. The longer we waited for it, the more the tunnel's debut promised to be the biggest event since the Relief of Mafeking. So it is perhaps no surprise if the nervous production team, from the National Roads Authority to the Cabinet, is talking it down as the big day looms. As you probably guessed, I only mentioned the Siege of Mafeking there so that I could make a witty comment about the Taoiseach's part in the second Bore War. You may recall that the original Dublin Transportation Initiative was for a single-bore tunnel. But Mr Ahern was instrumental in ensuring that a second bore be added: a wise decision as it turned out.
No mention of a second tunnel then, however, at least as far as I can remember. And now, already, the Taoiseach's victory in the Bore War is looking pyrrhic. Truck drivers are resisting attempts to force them around the M50, especially when it means having to cross the Westlink's Bridge of Sighs.
Meanwhile, even without them, the long gestation between the tunnel's conception and birth has seen the motorway become a hardened artery, clogged with fatty deposits from the city's unchecked spread.
The good news for the Taoiseach, ironically, is that there is no national stadium at Abbotstown, much though he wanted it. With the M50 already a car-park, the prospect of another 30,000 cars looking for spaces on a Saturday afternoon would be grim.
That looks like a dodged bullet now, even if Mr Ahern can hardly celebrate.
So although he sounded defeatist in the Dáil last week, and risked acquiring a new nick-name, there may have been method in his comments. If you can't have a signature building as your legacy, at least you can have a signature. The "Two Tunnels" moniker would express the yearning, aspirational quality that has defined his time in office. And on balance, it's better than being called Bertie "No Bowl" Ahern.