Enda pulls his hand from the cookie jar

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Oh dear. Even as Peter grapples with the lemmings ( or should that be “Waves them goodbye as they careen slowly over the cliff”?), south of the border Enda has his own ethical questions to answer. “Not Enda!” you cry, Virginia. “Not that nice man who feels secure in reminding others of their past sins because he himself is sinless?” Yup, I’m afraid so.

The big ethicial question of recent days centred on John McNulty. He’s a Donegal businessman and he was appointed to the board of the Irish Museum of Modern Art. So far so good. The good people of Donegal are as art-conscious as the next county, and some of those modern objects d’art can be a bit confusing. The presence of a Donegal man on the board would no doubt steady the ship, see to it that MOMA didn’t give the thumbs-up to some rubbish like an unmade bed or a sheep suspended in formaldehyde. The people of Donegal and Ireland generaly may not know much about art, but they know that Mr McNulty will put a hand-brake on any wild excesses.

Only then along comes a Seanad bye-election, due to be held on 10 October. Whose name gets put down on the ballot? Why Mr McNulty’s. And being on the board of MOMA made his CV look a lot more impressive than they would have looked had he not been appointed to the board. Uproar. Stroke politics alert! Enda must think again! In fact, what the hell was he thinking of, allowing Mr McNulty this head-start in the upcoming election? So yesterday in the Dail, Enda figured it was time to crawl out of the bog into which he was sinking. Mr McNulty, he announced, had withdrawn from the Seanad bye-election. Except that unfortunately his name already was confirmed as a candidate so it’d have to appear on the ballot sheet. But Enda told the Dáil that Mr McNulty was asking, even begging Oireachtas members not to vote for him. And Enda bowed his head in contrition. “My own standards were let slip and my own sense of integrity and trust did not measure up”. Or put another way: it’s a fair cop, guy, but look, I’m ‘fessing up, don’t be hard on me.

But sorrows come not single spies, as Hamlet observed, they come by the bucketful. It now emerges that another man called Hilary Quinlan has resigned as a director of Irish Water, a very hot topic in the south these days, with water charges being, um,  charged. And the reason Hilary resigned is that apparently he used to be a driver for a Minister of State at the Department of the environment. Ker-thump! (That was the sound of the second shoe dropping).

Naturally, Enda has done what he can to shift the blame onto senior officials, even as he says  he’s let his normal high standards slip. But alas, it may be too late. There’s a rustling in the Fine Gael undergrowth. “People who were blindly loyal to Mr Kenny and who backed him with unconditional conviction, that has changed” one TD told The Irish Times. Another  TD was even more critical of the Taoiseach: “Anyone with a modicum of common sense could see that the McNulty appointment would have serious repercussions. Yes, it has damaged Enda Kenny, no question”.

Remember about six months or so before Fine Gael won a lot of seats in the general election, a number of TDs got their knives out and were closing  in on Enda, only he managed to slip their attack and lead  his party to victory? This time, it looks as though they may be sharpening their knives a bit earlier, so that if Enda is toppled, they’ll be able to put  in his place someone with even higher standards and integrity that they will never, never, never, never let slip.

I think you and Peter should have a chat, Enda. If nothing else, you could cry on each other’s shoulder.

6 Responses to Enda pulls his hand from the cookie jar

  1. Iolar October 1, 2014 at 10:22 am #

    Mr Kenny’s ability to walk on water is now in question as is Ms Burton’s preference to tread water given peaceful protests about water charges ended with arrests in Dublin. Citizens are angry about the fact that the “jobs for the boys and girls” culture is alive and well. In this age of austerity and tightening of belts, Ministers and Junior Ministers will be exempt from payments on their second residence as well as 3,500 Euro tax deduction for their second home. The coalition government owes its existence to the tacit support of a party which has no allegiance to working people other than the misleading title, Labour Party. At the present time, people around the country are obliged to boil water or buy water as Ms Burton et al justify the introduction of further stealth taxes. The leadership of the Labour Party is treating its mandate from working people with contempt.

    • Jude Collins October 1, 2014 at 2:03 pm #

      I hope you’re simply recalling what you knew long ago, Iolar, and not what you have freshly discovered…

  2. Cal October 1, 2014 at 11:00 am #

    In the event of a Re-United Ireland, the DUP and its band of property developers would slide seamlessly into Dáil Éireann.

  3. Perkin Warbeck October 1, 2014 at 11:35 am #

    Like your goodself, Esteemed Blogmeister, poor old confused Perkie has been mixing up his IMMA with his MOMA. And not without good reason.

    When he first heard the memorable initials mentioned in the context of the Freshmen on the block of Free Southern Stateen politics the deathless chorus of Derek Dean, Billy Brown and the leg-kicking lads from Showbandland immediately wafted through his memory:

    The funniest sound I ever heard
    I couldn’t understand a single word

    Papa Omm Mom Mom.
    Papa Omm Mom Mom.

    The name of another Ulsterman, John McNulty, who is also the son of an Ulster Papa (Mac an Ultaigh) has been in the eye of the artistic storm. On the grounds that he is more accustomed to G Double A grounds rather than the grounds of I Double M A. He is the Bainisteoir Cunta/ Assistant Manager of Kilcar GAA team, which numbers the bros McHugh and the bros McBrearty in its lineout.

    This, in Perkie’s humble opinion, eminently qualifies Mr. McNulty to take his place on the board of directors of an art gallery which would be more inclined towards Picasso rather than the following voices of profundo basso:

    Is he serious or is he playing?
    Omm Mom Mom is all he’s saying

    Papa Omm Mom Mom
    Papa Omm Mom Mom.

    Consider the following evidence: the brothers McHugh and the brothers McBrearty were instrumental in bringing an end to the Blue Period on the canvas of Croke Park by defeating the Dali-esque Dubs and replacing it with this abomination called Cubist Ball. It is only a matter of inexorable time before the sacred sward of Croker/ Sagraga Familia is populated by gigantic female Michelin Men.

    The signs are there. Take a look at the unfinished Railway End where already there is an, erm, Installation, the equivalent of two eyes on one side of the one nose. And, the clincher: the remaining terrace has been Donegalanised and been renamed the Derek Hill, in honour of the guru of the Tory Island Primitives.

    I hear the sound everywhere I go
    On the TV and on the radi-o

    Papa Omm Mom Mom
    Papa Omm Mom Mom.

    And the indictable sound of ‘croneyism’ is also to be heard. This is an allegation which ought not be countenanced for the nano-length of time it takes to daub a priceless canvas with three shakes of a lamb’s tail.. The Irish Museum of Modern Art was opened in 1991 during the regal reign of Charles J. Haughey, (mac an Ultaigh), which was truly a golden, beholden era for the craftiness of artistic pursuits.

    Perkie knows this because he was a humble time-serving serf in Government Buildings at the time. Although his critics (of whom there were no shortage) accused CJH of knowing f-all about the f. arts (f for fine and for Fine Gael) being far more devoted to the outdoor art of fox hunting, this is just not true

    No matter how understandable the allegation might have been. After all, the original leprechaun for Haughey is Eachai (horseman). How could his middle initial therefore not stand for anything other than: J for Jodphurs.

    But of course CJH could tell, as well as any man alive, his Monet from his Manet. Indeed, he could even tell his Monet from another man’s Manet. In later life he was even tempted to change his middle name by deedpoll to J for Jingle but was dissuaded from doing so, on the grounds of obviouslness. Postimpressionistic paint pottery is all about avoiding the patently blatant, and leaving the Gals of both sexes who populate Galleries deliciously flummoxed.

    Perkie can also reveal that while a painting of the Ward Hunt graced the inner sanctum of the Taoiseach’s office during his time, CJH would have preferred a different work in oils of the same genre to be hanging. In short, a painting by none other than George Stubbs, the notable painter of horseflesh in the 18th century.

    In fact, Perkie can even go so far as to reveal that the painting in question was the celebrated painting of ‘Molly Long-legs and her Jockey’. ‘A variation one might say of ‘my kingdom for a horse’. But, it was not to be. Such is the cruelty of politics.

    And just as King Richard 3 ended up beneath a car park in Leicester (of all places!) so King Charles 1 was to suffer a fate of somewhat similar sadness. Instead of George Stubbs it was, alas, to be Stubbs’ Gazette.

    The darling of Dublin artistic circles, Anthony Cronin was the wise old owl of CJH when it came to making and taking the Big Decisions of a f. artistic (see above) nature, from IMMA to Aos Dana. He was, above all else, a far seeing Saoi. Perkie modestly admits he was not behind the door when it came to performing the Keyhole Kate role at the time in the corridors of P..

    Enda K, a real neo Tory Island Primitive if ever there was one, of course, being from Mayo, God h. us, was rather out of his depth when it came to IMMA. When he wasn’t confusing his brush strokes with his strokes he was confusing Cronin with cronyism. He was just the wrong man for the right to install, erm, Installations.

    And now the sound is all over the land
    And everybody can now fully understand

    Papa Omm Mom Mom
    Papa Omm Mom Mom.

    Or, can they? Can everybody now really fully understand? How can this be so when even the normally perspicacious Perkie, whom you’d quite expect the v. opposite from, is still not a little nonplussed. Even perplexed.

    It is only like the other week when the Happy Warrioress, Heather Humphreys was the SF to oppose SF in the Ho Chi Monaghan trail. The original Smiley Face is now being portrayed as another SF altogether, even by the Sunday Independent Cult (sic): Squeaky Fromme.

    From such a hiatus does the mighty fall.

    Can it possibly be that F for Fine Gael and for F. Art have got their Black Eyed Peas mixed up with their White Knight in Shining Armour persona? The B. Eyed Peas are, of course, he rap group of bros (neither called McHugh or McBreary) who had a hip hop hit, a palpable hit some years ago with an inoffensive little ditty which was called, as it happens, Imma:

    ‘Imma be brother with my millions
    Loan out a billion and get back a trillion
    Imma be a brother, but my name ain’t Lehman
    Imma be ya brother, I be loaning out semen’.

    Or is it yet another ….IMMA. That would the same IMMA from which the phenomenal Fintan O’Toole received a long overdue Life Time Achievement Award of late, and he to be, thankfully, still with us and very much kicking: the Irish Monochrome Monoglot Associaiton.

    Fintan the Phenomenal is known to contort himself into unknown forms of what is suggested, only suggested, in medical tomes as the Hiberian Hernia at the merest hint, the slightest mench of the C-word: Corruption.

    Prigmatism, as has been pointed out of late by the blogtrotter known as PW, is the core value and political philosophy of the phenomenal Fintan. His motto, his logo and his very raison d’etre are his ……Better Values.

    That is why Fintan the ph. is so anti-Corruption. Nobody tut tuts with quite the same degree and intensity of pragmatism as he in The Unionist Times (TUT) where, and you better believe it, the competition is pretty fierce among the Anti-hood, if not entirely pretty, when confronted by the C-word.

    It is obvious too that Mongolotism is at the kernel of his crusading nature; how else would someone by the name of ‘O’Toole’ not have gone and gone quietly the deep poll route before this, and long before this? Deep poll was invented, was it not, for such names as O’Toole, Looney and Tone etc?

    Thus, even as he sits in his Olympian eyrie, contemplating the C-word, Fintan the Phenomenon has yet to comment on the very corruption beneath his v. sensitive nose.

    Dublin is, is it not, a corruption of Dubh Linn/The Black Pool. Which might even be a hip-hop hit in time for the Black Eyed Peas.

    Indeed, those mischeiveous maltcontents who alas are still with us, though in dwindling numbers, thankfully, can be heard to mutter, why doesn’t TUT be done with it and give their address as….Blackpool. After all, it does have it very own Towering Intellectual who has been illuminating and hopefully will continue to illuminate the dark corners of a c for corrupt Leprheachaun Land.

    But Perkie is of those m.m. s (not to found in IMMA). Rather, can he now reveal that he is now a new convert to Prigmatism, a disciple of the great O’Toole himself. Thought it will take 10,000 hours of practice before he can be welcomed into the phenomenal fold.

    That is why he must away now, for he can no longer tarry. Perkie must away to the Dublin 4 Driving range, with his plastic bucketful of Better Value balls. Where he must keep whacking away till he masters the knack of whacking down the Hey, Diddle Diddlle.

    Even as he hums:

    The funniest sound he ever heard
    He couldn’t understand a single word

    Papa Omm Mom Mom
    Papa Omm Mom Mom.

    • Jude Collins October 1, 2014 at 2:02 pm #

      he B. Eyed Peas are, of course, he rap group of bros (neither called McHugh or McBreary) who had a hip hop hit, a palpable hit some years ago with an inoffensive little ditty which was called, as it happens, Imma:

      ‘Imma be brother with my millions
      Loan out a billion and get back a trillion
      Imma be a brother, but my name ain’t Lehman
      Imma be ya brother, I be loaning out semen’. Oh Perkie, you delight you…

  4. Virginia October 2, 2014 at 2:09 am #

    Head spinning after that article, I’m thinking we just focus on Stormont.