The Irish are a forgiving people. You can treat them with contempt, you can rob them blind, you can kick their granny, but as a people we have enormous depths of forgiveness. I’m tempted to say that this is seennowhere more strikingly than in the resurrection from the political morgue of Fianna Fail. It seems like only yesterday that politicians were ducking round corners to avoid having to say they were now or had ever been members of the Fianna Fail party.
But of all the Lazarus look-alikes, there is one that truly sucks the breath away, and that is Bertie Ahern. There was a point not so long ago when the former Fianna Fail leader was the epitome of the dodgy deal, the brown paper parcel, the that’s-for-yourself-big-fellah mentality of his party. The solidity of his brass neck came in 2007 when RTÉ interviewed him and, with tears in his eyes, he explained how, when he was Minister for Finance, he didn’t have a bank account, but was lucky enough to have got “a bit of a dig-out” from some bosom pals.
Although Bertie does have previous form in the did-he-really-say-that stakes. What about these little pearls.
“The cynics may live in the past but we live in the future.”
“The grass roots, or the rank and file, are now made from fibre optics.”
“I could certainly drink a fair few pints of Bass and be capable of driving.’
“I don’t think it helps people to start throwing white elephants and red herrings at each other.’
“It’s all smoke and daggers.’
And yesterday, thanks to that noble organ The Sindo, Bertie revealed that when he met George Bush, the US President of the time asked him “How about this guy Adams, my guy says he’s a murdering thief”.
Picture the scene. Probably St Patrick’s Day. The Irish Minister of Finance meets the man without a brain; the provider of Shannon for the better organization of rendition flights to Guantanamo Bay meets the man who sent troops into Iraq and brought about the deaths of tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of people.
I can’t be sure how Gerry Adams feels about being called a murdering thief by the man who reduced Iraq to a stronghold for ISIS, by way of Bertie ‘Bank-account-what-bank-account’ Ahern. Probably the same way, on an infinitely smaller scale, that I feel about being called “the most sectarian journalist I’ve ever met” by Nelson McCausland.
What a collection of gems, Jude! Where have you been saving these?
“The cynics may live in the past but we live in the future.”
“The grass roots, or the rank and file, are now made from fibre optics.”
“I could certainly drink a fair few pints of Bass and be capable of driving.’
“I don’t think it helps people to start throwing white elephants and red herrings at each other.’
“It’s all smoke and daggers.’
I particularly enjoyed …“I could certainly drink a fair few pints of Bass and be capable of driving.’
..Those really were the days , eh?…and no seat belts either.I’m sure billy will love that one .Bertie is probably one of his great heroes….Nice photo too, by the way …that finger keeping the old brain from falling out of his ear, there.
unlike you i dont do heros..david fxxkin attenborough.lolol
That’d be “heroes” and not the Spartan fella as created by Frank bellamy , billy.You’re such a classy act that I thought you’d just love that little list of non PC babble….
“Nice photo too, by the way …that finger keeping the old brain from falling out of his ear, there.”
he should have his finger in his ass then lol
We may be a forgiving people,Jude,but we rarely forget. And is often quoted: kill one man it’s murder, kill a million it’s war. I mean, the Britishers don’t throw up all the butcher Churchill’s peccadilloes, didn’t he save us from the Hun? Bertie and Charlie may have been rogues, but they were our rogues and they weren’t Blueshirts.
Bertie Ahern remains unique among Taoisigh of the Free Southern Stateen, Esteemed Blogmeister.
While some have been bilingual , most have been monolingual but Berite has been the only Prime Minister to fail a, erm, fluency test in both official languages.
As against that, his body language has achieved an enviable facility in the lingua franca of our times: footie. This is evidenced by the two ganseys he invariably wears ever since he was a boy, even, according to urbane legend, beneath his striped pajamas.
FOOTIE in MOUTH
The only T to master to a t, the art
On failing to learn either l. by heart
Under Dublin’s sky blue
Wears the red of Man U
Upended in Stretford the Apple Tart.