Nothing beats tramping the streets on a political canvass to see the public at its obnoxious worst, writes David Adams.
A FRIEND casually suggested the other week that with Northern Ireland now settled, maybe I should consider "going back into politics". The very notion had me breaking out in a cold sweat and feeling like I needed to lie down for an hour or two. I wouldn't dream of becoming a politician again, even if I was offered a free run in the sleepiest, most contented and eye-bogglingly scenic constituency in Ireland. (Though in the highly unlikely event that someone has been considering making just such an offer, it should be noted that it is not unknown for me to change my mind).
If you are to stand any chance of forging a successful career in the party-dominated politics of today, it is essential that you are a "good team player". I was much more the "loose cannon" type who found just sticking to an agreed party line (unless it originated with me) immensely frustrating and almost impossible to maintain.
How anyone can discipline themselves to adhere faithfully to that grandest of substitutes for independent thought, an ideology, is a complete mystery. Being a member of a political party is a bit like being part of a very large family, except one that is even more riven with mistrust, petty jealousies and long-held grudges. Towering egos and all-consuming ambitions ensure that no one really gets along with, never mind trusts, anyone else, but for the most part, a unified front is kept up for sake of appearances (votes).
At first, you are shocked by the constant backbiting and scrambling for position. Later, you're shocked at how quickly you adapted, chameleon-like, and became just as childish, bitchy and grabbing as everyone else.
Only slightly less off-putting than the thought of re-entering the maelstrom of internal party politics is that of having to interact with an electorate again. It's all very well speaking to people through their televisions and radios. That part appeals to the dictator in us all.
It's quite another thing having to deal with them face to face, which I detested. Yet if a politician wants to remain a politician that is precisely what he or she must regularly do. Now there are those who do battle with the public every working day in order to make a living, such as taxi drivers, shop assistants, bar staff, and receptionists of all kinds. I salute the bravery and dedication of those people, and the many others who are forever on the front line. Doubtless, each has his or her own horror stories to relate.
Still, to see the public at its obnoxious worst there is nothing remotely comparable to tramping the streets on a political canvass. When you land up at someone's door begging for their vote, you are totally at their mercy: and don't they just know it. They have free licence to insult and abuse you without fear of retaliation, and some cannot resist the temptation. There is no other option but stand there with a fixed smile and take whatever is thrown at you.
It's either that or word spreads like wildfire of how you "insulted a constituent", and you can kiss goodbye to whatever hopes you had of being elected.
By no means all members of the public feel the need to be pig-ignorant to canvassing politicians, but enough do to make the whole operation a thing of energy-sapping dread. There is just no need for people to resort to personal abuse - legitimate questions are difficult enough for a politician to handle.
Then there is the constituency office.
Maybe not every lunatic and perpetually angry person within a 30-mile radius at some time washes up there, but it certainly feels like it when you are plonked behind a desk offering assistance and advice.
If there is a knack in ensuring that those who present a problem that even Jesus would have found impossible to resolve do not turn nasty when a mere mortal inevitably fails to deliver, then I'm afraid I never quite mastered it. And you can bet that the many infuriated miracle seekers will thereafter make it their mission in life to spread the word far and wide on how hopeless a politician you are. You will discover, as well, that a simple "thank you" is beyond them on the once-in-a-blue-moon occasion you do manage to achieve the seemingly impossible.
A politician is never off duty. Whether out at a restaurant or the local pub, out with your wife shopping or just buying the morning papers, you will always be collared by someone. There is simply no respite from the ever-demanding constituent. No matter the occasion or time of night, they will have no hesitation in ringing you at home if something is troubling them.
I earnestly explained all of this to my friend, in an abridged form and in rather more colourful language.
He looked at me. "So you don't think you could get elected, then?"
"No, I was never that popular."
"Okay, I just thought I'd mention it."