Some people just capture the spirit of the age. Gary Keogh, the AIB shareholder who pelted the bank’s higher-ups with eggs in 2009 as all about him lost their heads, was one of them. He died last week.
“I feel happier about the whole thing than I have done for months,” Keogh told The Irish Times in May 2009, in the immediate aftermath of the incident. He had lost €18,000 on his investment in AIB during the course of the crash and, at the age of 65, decided to make his displeasure known.
He showed up to the emergency general meeting of the stressed bank and, amid very heated exchanges, targeted the then chief executive Eugene Sheehy and chairman Dermot Gleeson. Sheehy emerged clean, but Gleeson’s suit “sustained a direct eggy hit”, according to contemporary reporting.
The bank was outlining a €3.5 billion government bailout at a time when shares had dropped from highs of €23.95 a share to 87 cent on the day – and had further to go before hitting rock bottom. A lot of people, including many at or near retirement age, lost a lot of money.
Keogh, a former retail worker, had been buoyed by a kidney transplant, which freed him from dialysis and left him ready for action. “I think I got Che Guevara’s kidney,” he said.
[ From the archive: Shareholder who threw eggs 'feels happier'Opens in new window ]
It was a splatter heard around the world. International outlets such as the BBC and The Guardian included the colour amid global tales of financial woe, as an example of the reality beneath the eye-watering debt numbers.
“Gary took no prisoners,” his wife Thelma told Overheard this week. Equipped with a dry sense of humour and a strong sense of fairness, the egg incident was absolutely within character.
“That’s why he did it – because of the unfairness of it. He was a principled person. He didn’t want to see people being deceived.”
Memories of the crash have slowly faded, but Gary’s legend lived on in Blackrock, south Dublin, where he was from, and where the egging was “one of the first things mentioned” at his funeral.
The bankers and the national media found out about the plan before Thelma.
“He didn’t even tell me. I knew nothing about these eggs, they were sitting in the garage for about a month. He had them in his pocket,” she said.
“Afterwards he told me: ‘Turn on the radio.’ That’s how I found out.”
After the incident, he told The Irish Times it was “the first” but wouldn’t be the last. True to his word, he took his protest to Bank of Ireland in 2011, firing at Pat Molloy and Richie Boucher – though on that occasion, he missed.
Four missing inches of fashion
Not every prominent Irish person abroad is necessarily as famous in their host country as they are at home – Ryan Tubridy and Evan Ferguson are good examples – but designer Paul Costelloe certainly made his mark.
The Dubliner was a household name in certain British households because of his association with Princess Diana, whom he dressed on several occasions. The Times of London dutifully provided an obituary for him with in the right royal register reserved on Fleet Street for matters Windsor.
“The tenor sang, the heavens opened and Princess Diana was soaked, her blonde hair streaming down both sides of her face,” the piece began, going on to note some of the most chic Costelloe clobber in her archive.
Some other details were fuzzier, however. At one point, Costelloe was described as “6ft, only a couple of inches taller than his royal client”, while later he was referred to as spending much of his time in “Monkstown, in southeast Dublin, where he could often be found sketching and doodling at Kehoe’s pub”.
The Times, mostly hidden behind the paywall, still allows readers to comment online, and they rushed to make corrections. Gavin Costelloe, Paul’s son, commented: “Paul was 6’ 4”. Not 6’.” That would make him half a foot taller than the former Lady Spencer.
Another commenter also weighed in: “ ... and Kehoe’s is not in Monkstown!” The pub, one of Dublin’s most storied, is of course on South Anne Street, metres from Grafton Street.
Irish cheese stays grounded
Best wishes to the Parma farmers as Parmigiano Reggiano, the grateable hard cheese, signs up to a Hollywood agent with hopes of becoming a superstar.
Europe’s favourite umami dust will go to work for the United Talent Agency, which reps the likes of Angelina Jolie, Channing Tatum and Mariah Carey. The plan is product placement, in order to “introduce Parmigiano Reggiano to a wide pool of partners, to further its message of gastronomical excellence”.
Overheard, still chewing a lump of Durrus as we found this out, wondered why Irish cheeses aren’t out there furthering their own message of gastronomical excellence in superhero movies and so on. We asked Cáis, the Association of Irish Farmhouse Cheesemakers.
“Most makers are small, family-run businesses focused on local markets,” said Eimear Cuddy, secretary of Cáis. “Many don’t export at all, so the logistics, cost and time involved in pursuing international product placement would outweigh any potential return.”
But Ireland’s hardworking culture industry sometimes name-drops a cheese without some slick-haired Hollywood dealmaker taking their percentage.
“There are occasional organic moments of exposure,” says Cuddy. “For example, Cashel Blue has been named in a Cecelia Ahern novel, in poetry and also on a quizshow without them ever seeking it – but nothing that would resemble a Hollywood placement strategy.”
X-ray for Busáras
Busáras, the nation’s foremost coach station, divides opinion between those (Sinn Féin housing spokesman Eoin Ó Broin) who consider it “Dublin’s most iconic mid-century modernist masterpiece” and those (authentic mid-century modernist Myles na gCopaleen) who consider it a “bust station”. Hoping to heal this rift, Bus Éireann is in the process of trying to renovate it sympathetically, modernising access and facilities while polishing up the original features.
[ Why The Irish Times had to apologise to the architect of the ‘fabulous’ BusárasOpens in new window ]
First, they have to find out what it looks like. The OPW has issued a tender seeking a “geomatic survey of the building, both internal and external” to provide a basis for drawings. That means making a digital plan using lasers, in essence. Early stages, you’d have to conclude.
What might they find? It’s well known that there’s a 225-seat theatre in the basement, with the Eblana having played host to the likes of John B Keane and Brian Friel over the years before shutting down in 1995. It won’t be back – the space will become a training centre for elite bus operatives – but who knows, there could be a museum or a funfair down there too. These modernists were utopian.
Still, if they get started now, it could be done before the Charlemont MetroLink stop.
