On Wednesday night, as Enda Kenny and Micheál Martin met to discuss government formation, Fine Gael Ministers awaited developments in the Sycamore Room in Government Buildings.
Members of the outgoing Cabinet knew the acting Taoiseach was presenting the Fianna Fáil leader with his proposal for a full government partnership. And they knew all the details.
But Ministers were under strict instructions not to leak them. They joked about putting their mobile phones on the table, in full view. If anyone needed to nip out to the loo, they would have to leave their phone behind.
This way, no information would seep into the public domain until the meeting was over and the officially sanctioned leaking could begin.
The plan didn't work. Sarah Bardon of this parish had the full lowdown up on The Irish Times website well before the two leaders parted company. It was a frosty encounter between them, by all accounts.
They met in room 716, just outside the ministerial corridor. An auspicious number. According to Today FM's Gavan Reilly, who is very good at the Googling, 716 is the year in which Emperor Theodosius III concluded a peace treaty with Kormesiy of Bulgaria.
Speaking of phones, the acting Taoiseach had news for the Independents at his lunchtime meeting with them on Wednesday. They had been urging him for some time to meet Martin, arguing that they could make no decision about whom to support in government until Fianna Fáil’s position was known.
As their discussions on policy documents drew to a close, Enda became more involved in the proceedings. Then he announced: “I will be making contact with Micheál Martin to arrange a meeting this evening, if possible.”
The Independents were delighted with this news.
Whereupon his phone rang.
He picked it up from the table and answered it.
“Aaah, Micheál!” he began.
There was a little gasp from the assembled independents.
The acting Taoiseach paused for a few seconds.
“No it’s not!” said he.
The lunchtime discussions were delayed because the Cabinet meeting had overrun. A Minister was dispatched to relay apologies.
“Sure, we could have come over and joined you” said Mattie McGrath.
At least waiting in Government Buildings wasn’t too much of a trial for the in- demand sole traders. Following complaints from the Healy-Raes about the standard of refreshment on offer (sandwiches) during their long hours of negotiations, the nosh was dramatically improved. Curry or beef stroganoff with rice or spuds, the presence of potatoes being something a red line issue for Michael Healy-Rae.
Incidentally, it seems that the HR brothers are their own biggest critics. Contrary to how they might comport themselves in public (and Michael has come across as one of the most sensible voices during this entire palaver), we hear the two siblings don’t always see eye to eye on policy and have been having some ferocious discussions on the way to proceed.
But that’s brothers for you.
Soft-soaping the 15 Independents continued all week, with Fine Gael operating in a high-profile manner and Fianna Fáil uncharacteristically beneath the radar. You’d think they didn’t want to get into government at all, despite their public announcements.
Finian McGrath got annoyed when his concerns over a cystic fibrosis unit at Beaumont Hospital failed to make it into Fine Gael's health document. Profuse apologies followed from the acting Taoiseach and Minister for Health and the missing page was duly located. Senior Fine Gaelers have been apologising ever since.
McGrath was overheard complaining to a colleague in the members’ bar that he couldn’t “even go to the jacks without being followed by a Minister.” The only safe place, he said, was the smoking shelter.
Meanwhile on Thursday we overheard a solicitous Leo Varadkar asking Waterford Independent John Halligan if he needed a lift to the Department of Health. Halligan was due there with hospital consultants from his constituency.
To be fair to those Independents taking part in the discussions, they cite the critical need to a stable government in place as their main motivation for involvement. In the main, they have sounded reasonable and sensible. But they have been meeting with Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael for weeks now. Patience, on all sides, is running out.
The two parties want a decision from the Independents, who don’t want to declare for anyone until they get assurances that whichever party ends up supporting a minority government will commit to staying the course until at least two budgets have been delivered.
They don’t want to throw in their lot with a government that quickly collapses, exposing them to heavy collateral damage. As it stands, they are beginning to feel like the meat in a sandwich between Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil.
Hence yesterday’s request to meet Kenny and Martin, together, in the same room, to gauge their intentions.
Kenny was first out of the traps, indicating his willingness to “host such a meeting” with all the Independents “together with the leader of Fianna Fáil”.
Predictably, Micheál followed suit. With knobs on. He would “happily discuss”, with them and the acting Taoiseach, how a minority government could be formed, reported the Independent Alliance grouping.
Given the diverse nature of all involved, that gathering could be great fun.
It’ll be like the Mad Hatter’s tea party with the two leaders, who aren’t on the best of terms with each other, hauled up before the Independents and everyone in charge and nobody in charge and the whole lot of them speaking in riddles.
How will they ever manage to put a government together?
Dáil bar bills starting to concentrate minds
Have pity on all those poor souls currently languishing in Leinster House limbo, not knowing whether they will ascend to political heaven or hit the road to hell and a fresh general election.
The suffering is most acute for deputies who just squeaked through for a Dáil seat last month. They know the outcome for them next time out could be easily reversed and are very anxious to see a new government take office.
You could hardly blame them for taking to the drink.
Generosity However, they’ll have to pay for it up front, as some new TDs have found to their cost. There is a sizable contingent of them, and they have been filling their time in the absence of Dáil sittings by inviting supporters and constituency groups to Leinster House for a guided tour and a few scoops in the famous bar.
Their generosity will do them no harm if a government can’t be formed and they have to run again. However, when there is no government, TDs and Senators cannot set up a drinks tab in the Dáil bar. They won’t be allowed one until a taoiseach is appointed.
Free round It is often the case that large groups are deposited in the bar and treated to a free round by their political host, who then goes back to work and settles the bill at a later date.
We hear some newcomers were a little put out to find they had to stump up on the spot, having arrived without cash or card.
When the 31st Dáil was dissolved, Oireachtas members owed a combined figure of €5,405 to the members and visitors bars.
According to recent figures obtained by this newspaper, €4,000 was still owed as of March 10th, with 20 TDs and 13 Senators among the debtors.
Names were not released in order to protect the guilty.
Éamon Ó Cuív takes up pen as Blueshirts sent packing
Life in opposition isn’t all bad, which may be why Éamon Ó Cuív is so adamant his party shouldn’t be breaking election promises and rushing into the arms of Fine Gael.
At the Galway West count, when asked how he would respond if his party leader proposed a deal with Fine Gael, Ó Cuív replied: “I’d say, let’s put it to an ardfheis, Micheál, and let’s listen to the members.”
Fianna Fail’s former deputy leader predicted that a marriage with the Blueshirts wouldn’t last jig time.
As it turned out, they barely got to the altar before Micheál jilted Enda, throwing his partnership proposal back in his face.
So no chance of a Cabinet post for O’Cuív, but there is more to life – like writing.
“Young Dev” has the genes for it, as his grandmother, Sineád Bean de Valera, was a celebrated author of children’s stories.
Ó Cuív is one of the contributors to the new edition of The Galway Review, edited by Máire Holmes and co-ordinated by managing editor Ndrek Gjini.
The selection of new writing includes a review by the Galway West poll-topper of Daniel Sammon’s new book: Croagh Patrick and Me.
Paying tribute to Sammon’s work, O’Cuív notes that the writer would have made a great seanchaí, or storyteller, if he had lived in another time.
He is also quite taken by a new seanfhocal coined by the author:
“He who thinks ‘I’m a fool’ is a fool.”
Would Dev Óg be thinking in general, or of anyone in particular?
