Unheralded Vinny rattles the political big wigs

AGAINST THE ODDS:STEALING A glance from behind the curtain in the giant assembly hall in Coolock's Chanel College, Vinny Fitzpatrick saw a sea of a thousand faces and felt a shiver of apprehension. It was almost show time and he was, putting it mildly, bricking himself.

It was a night to meet the candidates standing for election in Dublin North Central, organised by NEAR FM, the local radio station, and the great unwashed had gathered in the heart of Dublin 5 for the occasion.

Vinny wasn’t even supposed to be here but he’d received a call just as the final whistle sounded on a thoroughly dispiriting Everton display at Bolton, when local TD, Finian McGrath, cried off. “We have the three main parties but we need an independent voice for balance. We hear you’re making a fair impression in Clontarf so why not come up to Coolock and tells us what you’re about,” said the researcher, persuasively.

Public speaking wasn’t Vinny’s thing, neither was the notion of meeting his rivals face to face while the fact the debate was being broadcast live across the constituency filled him with foreboding.

But unlike Everton’s softies at the Reebok, he knew he couldn’t shirk his responsibilities.

“Of course, I’ll be there,” he said with mock bravado. “And I expect to be given a fair break of the ball in terms of air time.”

As he walked up the long drive to Chanel College, flanked by Macker and Fran, his most loyal lieutenants, Vinny reflected on the second week of his campaign to get elected as an independent in the 31st Dáil.

Shanghai Jimmy had come up with a terrific wheeze to put election leaflets on all buses leaving Clontarf Garage every morning.

It was against the rules but the drivers’ union, controlled by Big Dave, a mate of Vinny’s, was up for it and the ‘Get In Gear With Fitzpatrick’ logo was now familiar to passengers served by Clontarf routes, the majority of whom lived in Dublin North Central. It was a smart gimmick but, in truth, his campaign needed a push if he was to avoid embarrassment and tonight’s gathering, which pitched him alongside the big-hitters of the constituency, Richard Bruton and Seán Haughey, was perhaps a make-or-break affair.

Bruton and Haughey had direct blood lines to former Taoisigh and between them had controlled the fiefdom of Dublin North Central for almost a generation. Bruton had been a TD for the area since 1982, Haughey since 1992. They had power, profile and were polished public performers. In contrast, Vinny was a political blow-in, a first-time fatty.

At 53, this was his first and last shot at getting elected and while he didn’t expect to finish in the first three, he was scared stiff of being tailed off in the polls and becoming a laughing stock. He took encouragement in the fact that the popular McGrath had received just 764 votes when he first stood in 1992. Vinny’s target was to improve on that, if only to give him some bargaining room in Foley’s post-election debate.

Backstage in Chanel College, the candidates were fitted out with microphones and told where to stand. Bruton looked at ease with his surroundings, as befitted a local grandee.

Haughey kept quietly to one side, immersed in his thoughts, while the Labour man, who was targeting the Fianna Fail veteran’s seat, was hopping from one foot to another.

The NEAR FM presenter was an old cricket head from Clontarf, a demon bowler known as Fiery Fergal, whom Vinny knew from their mid-summer Taverners’ clashes. Fiery Fergal nodded at the political rookie. “You still bowling a mean googly, Vinny? Don’t worry, I’ll drop you a few handy half volleys when we get going,” he smiled.

As the curtains were drawn back, Vinny was dazzled by the arc lights and realised he could hardly see past the first few rows. In his mind, there were about as many people present as a good night in Foley’s, which helped him relax.

The programme lasted an hour and the first part was mostly a ding-dong point-scoring exercise between Bruton and Haughey, with each defending their record in the area. That the country was banjaxed was overlooked by both. Politics was indeed local, thought Vinny.

And then came the first bouncer from Fiery Fergal. “Vinny Fitzpatrick, you are standing as an independent. What’s the first thing you’d do if you got elected?” Vinny paused, quelled a rising stammer and felt a strange calmness envelop him. “I’d give half my salary to Beaumont Hospital,” he said firmly.

“Come come,” chided Fiery Fergal. “This is just political rhetoric, a ruse to get votes.”

Vinny turned to his interrogator. “Rhetoric my arse,” he said. “Do you have any idea what the basic salary of a TD is, Fergal? It’s more than 92,000 grand, that’s what. I don’t need that. I’m a busman who gets by on €37,000 a year so I can easily afford to give 50 per cent of my wages to where it can be best used.”

At the back of the hall, Vinny heard someone shout. “At last, someone is talking sense.” There were a few “hear, hears” as Vinny continued. “I had a stroke and a heart attack last year. But for the staff in Beaumont Hospital, I’d be brown bread.

“I’m sure everyone here has either been in Beaumont or knows someone who has. The staff are fantastic but they need help; they need more beds, more wards, a bigger AE facility, and that’s just for starters. Okay, €46,000 won’t change things overnight, but if it means one less elderly person sitting on a hard-backed chair overnight, then I’ll have done something right. I’d expect my colleagues here this evening to do the same.”

Aware he had command of the meeting, Vinny went for broke. “Another thing, I won’t be burying my snout in the expenses trough like some politicians have been doing. A bus pass will do me, thanks. All TDs should have one. If I’m working late, I’ll get the Nite Link.

“If that’s not on, I’ll cycle to the Dáil. I could do with losing weight anyway,” he added with a disarming smile. Bruton, Haughey and the Labour man were all grinning too but their eyes weren’t laughing.

After lengthy applause died down, Fiery Fergal lobbed another gentle delivery at Vinny’s political bat. “If you had three wishes for Ireland in 2011, what would they be?”. Vinny scrunched up his jowly face and focused hard. He had to think outside the Clontarf box, and think fast.

“I’d wish for infection-free wards for cystic fibrosis sufferers in all hospitals, I’d scrap the government jet and I’d make sure politicians’ pensions can only be taken at the same pension age of the tax payer, 65.

“I mean, why should they be different to us, the people who vote for them?” he thundered.

At his raised his voice, Vinny was aware people in the front rows of the hall were standing. Later, Fran confirmed the whole place was on its feet.

“Vinny, you sure touched a nerve tonight; the big wigs are rattled,” beamed Fran.

Back in Foley’s, Macker delivered a most significant piece of news. A straw poll conducted by NEAR FM of the 475 people at the meeting showed Bruton was the first preference choice of 32 per cent, followed by McGrath on 16 per cent, Haughey 12, and the Labour man 12. Vinny, the tenderfoot, was the choice of 10 per cent of the voters.

“As Haughey will get diddly squat transfers, the way I see it, the third seat is up for grabs,” said Macker. Against the odds, Vincent Finbarr Fitzpatrick had a fighting chance of winning a seat.

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