Ministerial cars in Ireland are usually Mercs - but they don't have to be. JOHN BROPHY looks at ministerial motoring
Italy's Finance Minister is taking so much political heat for driving a foreign car instead of an Italian-built model that he has issued a statement explaining why he continues to drive his three-year-old BMW.
Giulio Tremonti, under fire along with other officials for not driving cars made by Italy's struggling Fiat, said in the statement he had tried to sell his BMW 740 but nobody came up with enough cash.
Italian newspapers have been running stories recently listing the officials who have spurned Italian-made cars. Along with Tremonti were Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, who uses a Mercedes.
For many in politics, however, the choice of transport is limited to the marque with the biggest factory in the State.
But politicians of all shades have one thing in common. They do love to earn their place in the passenger seat.
In today's brave new world it's astounding to see the diligence and hard work which some people invest in becoming a success, whereby they get to lord it in a large and shiny state car.
It takes grit, determination and a punishing schedule, but it's worth it to them. Even before they start a journey, you know they've arrived.
What then can we say about those who will work twice as hard as normal, and endure all kinds of trouble and thraldom, to sit in the back of a large new black car? Such people do exist, but here in Ireland they are a breed apart. They are the 15 stalwart souls known collectively as the Government, for whom Mercs and perks are among the glittering prizes.
Actually, it isn't always Mercs. Ministers are given a choice of car. According to the Garda Press Office, five marques are available. Besides the three-pointed starmobile, ministers can opt for BMW, Volvo, Saab or Ford.
As you can see from the list of approved vehicles, all score highly for safety and durability as well as good looks and sleekness. It's nice to think we can say the same about the important passengers too.
Cars are normally replaced after a general election, old ones being sold at public auction - given ministerial schedules, they're unlikely to be "low mileage".
State-car drivers are full members of An Garda Síochána. Their training is the same as other members of the force. Understood.
So, I decided to push the envelope (in the non-political sense) by asking how the State acquires the cars. Like, "sure it must be worth a few bob in advertising to get the prestige of being used as a State car, so is there e'er a hint about discount?" That was a foolproof way to get a 24-carat "no comment".
Cars are acquired by tender - truly a misnomer if ever there was one, for a sales competition. From the suppliers, the response was frosty enough to bust any radiator. No, we don't discuss confidential details of relationships with our clients. Oops! Touché, m'lud! How could we have expected any other reply?
What's interesting about the list is that one name is absent: Rolls-Royce is not an option.
It's exactly a century ago since Charlie Rolls, aviator and marketing genius, took part in the great races in the Phoenix Park. Of the make and legend he helped to found, the only example left in State service is the one used by President de Valera.
The Rolls tradition was that Sir ordered the chassis and mechanical bits from the factory, and then had the body done by a specialist coach-builder such as Barker or Mulliner. That allowed for customised body-styles.
Obviously, in England, Rolls are still the cars for royal ceremonial occasion, though other makes have been used. For a long while, there was nothing like a Daimler: in the 1920s there was a splendid model with a sleeve-valve engine - the only complaint was that it tended to oil up the back window at low speeds when the exhaust plume wasn't deflected.
For less formal occasions, royals have used Bentleys, and now forgotten beauties such as the Humber Imperial.
Prime Minister Tony Blair is oft-times seen in a Jaguar, and other ministers in Rovers. It's moot what parentage applies here - to the cars. The point is that all the makes are officially home-grown.
This applies to all countries where cars are made. In France, one would naturally expect to be driven in Peugeot, Citroëor Renault when on state business. The definition of state business can be quite wide: in the Gare de l'Est in Paris a monument commemorates the time in the first World War when the Renault taxis of Paris were commandeered to bring soldiers to the front.
IN Ireland, we have a very long tradition of admiration for state vehicles. Think of the story of St Brigid . . . her father was minded to sell her into slavery when he discovered that she had sold his prize chariot to get funds to help a poor man.
Could the same thing happen today? Don't be so sure!
Incidentally, our presidential Rolls is not driven by a garda, but by a member of the presidential staff. However, it's housed in the Garda Depot in the Phoenix Park - and, no, it does not receive visitors.
Obviously, it's only a full minister who gets a car, and the political description of a constituency getting the junior minister and the half-car is, happily, only a figure of speech.
Happily, the accident record for state cars is very good.
The one case which most people remember is that of Dick Spring, who survived a serious crash thanks in no small part to the construction of the car.
Other ministers have found their cars to be a source of some embarrassment.
The Minister for Health had to apologise recently after his state car was recorded doing 80mph.