Ged Nash had a run-in with a gourd last Friday night. It was an arresting experience. The Labour TD for Louth slipped on a piece of Halloween pumpkin on the path beside St Laurence’s Gate in Drogheda, and ended up in a heap on the ground. Still on an election footing but stopped in his tracks.
On Tuesday he arrived into the Dáil chamber on crutches for the last week of the 33rd Dáil, sporting a large surgical boot over a badly sprained ankle. Just what the doctor ordered for a TD running to retain his seat a few days before the start of a general election. Canvassing will be severely curtailed.
Ged is most unfortunate. Banana (or pumpkin) skins aren’t supposed to happen until the campaign is officially under way. Neither is it usual for a candidate to get the boot before any votes have been cast.
Still, at least Ged was in safe hands when it happened. He was chatting to an undertaker and a solicitor when his feet went from under him. If nothing else he has a good story for the doorsteps.
But while the hustings may beckon, the business of the Dáil continues. Not long now, but not just yet.
“It’s in your hands to call the election – you’ve dithered long enough about it,” Mattie McGrath huffed at the Taoiseach, reflecting the mood of the House.
Simon Harris confirmed earlier in the day that the campaign would be on by the weekend. But he has to go to Hungary first so he can look all Taoiseachy at a meeting with his fellow European leaders and then he also has to make sure the President will be home to meet him when he finally decides to go to the Áras and request the long-awaited dissolution.
Friday is the day so, and the Taoiseach had better make sure he goes to the Phoenix Park good and early because Michael D won’t like being disturbed in the middle of Coronation Street or Emmerdale.
Back in the Dáil housing was the main item on the agenda during Leaders’ Questions, with Sinn Féin’s Mary Lou McDonald back to her combative self after a torrid few weeks for Sinn Féin and Labour’s Ivana Bacik being assailed yet again by the wailings of the Healy-Raes about her perfectly reasonable request for a bog standard bicycle shelter on the Kildare Street side of Leinster House.
Ivana was mad as hell last week with the constant barracking from the Healy-Raes and said she wasn’t going to take it any more. So mad that she told Danny Healy-Rae to “shut up”.
Then she apologised for using unparliamentary language, even if nobody noticed this.
Didn’t have much effect on the Healy-Raes who were at it again at the first opportunity.
“What about the second bicycle shed?” shouted Danny Healy-Rae.
“I’ve already responded on that and I’m not going to take that again and I’m not taking it any more,” retorted Ivana, without resorting to unparliamentary language.
It didn’t bother her smashing pumpkin colleague, though.
“Ignoramus. Absolute ignoramus,” bellowed Ged Nash, as Ceann Comhairle Seán Ó Fearghaíl rummaged for the smelling salts. “Ignoramus! And I hope that’s unparliamentary language.”
Unparliamentary language? They were only getting started, as it later, swearily, transpired.
Due to the fevered efforts by non-retiring TDs to put bums on seats in the next Dáil there was quite a scarcity of them during Tuesday’s proceedings. Even Sinn Féin Deputies were few and far between when Mary Lou spoke at Leaders’ Questions. Party members routinely show up their Government counterparts at the daily set piece by turning out in force when she takes her turn.
[ Vitriolic Dáil exchanges over gender of Dublin TD Paul Murphy’s childOpens in new window ]
Four Government backbenchers managed to make it into the chamber – all but one will not be running again.
The Taoiseach was like a hen on a hot griddle. Maybe because all that New Energy needs an outlet or because he was still trying to figure out the best time to cut and run to the country. When a vote was called on the Order of Business he took himself up to the farthest corner of the empty Distinguished Visitors’ Gallery and made a long phone call. What was that all about?
Then he lashed back down to the front bench before haring up the steps again to talk to Charlie Flanagan, who showed him something on his mobile phone. Then Frankie Feighan did the same as he was returning to his seat beside the Tánaiste.
When he sat down both men began consulting their phones. What did this mean? Was something about to happen? Who knew?
Not that it mattered because everyone is driven around the bend waiting for Simon to name the date and wild rumour and speculation is the order of the day. It is understandable that nerves are frayed. Fragile egos are on the line.
Sharp words may be exchanged between soon-to-be-rivals before the contest proper begins. But even so it is still possible for people to go too far.
It happened during the debate on the Finance Bill, when Danny Healy-Rae (is there a pattern emerging here?) was making a rambling and muddled contribution on the USC charge. At one point he accused other Opposition Deputies of voting for taxes and charges – such as the carbon tax – when the Rural Independents voted against them. “Ye all voted for the carbon tax and ye said ‘twasn’t actually enough.”
Paul Murphy of People Before Profit said they didn’t.
DHR turned to him and nastily sniped: “What do you know? Sure ‘oo don’t know whether ‘oor own son, baby, is a boy or a girl and you try to tell…”
Murphy’s instant, furious, response was a reflex one.
“F**k off! Asshole.”
The Ceann Comhairle urged restraint.
DHR didn’t back down. In fact he looked affronted at being challenged. “And you telling us here then…”
Neither did Murphy: “You are a f**king asshole.”
“Please,” pleaded Ó Fearghaíl.
“Well, it’s the truth” replied Healy-Rae. “And he told it loud. I didn’t make it up. ‘Twas you told it yourself.”
Deputies from across the chamber shouted in protest. Fianna Fáil’s Paul McAuliffe called on DHR to withdraw his remark, while Social Democrat Róisín Shortall glared at the Kerry TD.
Nash, who is Labour’s finance spokesman, called for an apology to Deputy Murphy and his family. “This nonsense is tolerated far too much. It’s personalised and it’s insulting.”
The Ceann Comhairle stepped in and told Healy-Rae to withdraw his “personal and inappropriate” remark.
“It’s the truth, but if ‘twill please ye, I’ll withdraw it,” stuttered Danny, sulkily. “But ‘tis, for the individual itself, I’m concerned.”
On the floor of the national parliament. The bloody cheek of him.
The air was poisoned. It left a sour taste.
Shortall was fuming. “You’re a disgrace” she told him. “Stay quiet.”
Ged Nash was too. “That’s a qualified withdrawal. You’re an asshole.”
Nobody contradicted him.
Ó Fearghaíl closed his eyes and sighed.
Paul Murphy was next up. “Thanks, Ceann Comhairle.” He paused. Took a deep breath. “Em…To deal with the topics at hand…”
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