“WE HAVEN’T spoken about bad thoughts together, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t sin.”
So now we know where Pat Cox stands on the issue of making a political baby with Michael McDowell.
Mad for it.
As for the demure McDowell, the mere suggestion yesterday that he and his former PD colleague might yet become an item made him blush furiously as he stammered out a string of coy denials.
The last time we witnessed such a performance, Richard Bruton was giggling on television like Lady Di and refusing to say whether or not he could support Enda Kenny as his party leader.
All Richard needed to do was state firmly that he is fully behind his leader and dismiss any suggestion to the contrary as malicious tittle-tattle.
Full confidence in the chairman and a strong denial, going forward.
But he couldn’t do it. And a few days later he had been dismissed from his position on the Fine Gael front bench and was challenging Kenny for the top position.
Switch to Donegal yesterday, and day 47 of the MacGill Summer School. What’s that? Only day four? Worthy sure becomes wearing after a while.
The former PD leader and tánaiste was the main attraction. (This will have come as a nasty shock to confident young Leo Varadkar, who featured near the top of the bill but was mercilessly mown down by journalists stampeding through the foyer towards the senior man, McDowell. All part of the maturing process for Leo.)
Michael was invited down to grapple with the weighty topic of “The Republic I Want to See”. Among the political groupies of Glenties, he is clearly in the superstar league, attracting a full house and lots of applause. He signed autographs and posed for photos with smiling fans.
He also attracted a salivating media contingent hell-bent on securing a full confession amid mounting rumours that he is about to settle down again and start a new political movement with an unnamed third party. (It must be noted here that Pat Cox was also on the scene, drifting around the margins looking rather fetching in a crimson jersey and posh jeans.)
The posse tried to corner McDowell in the lounge over his fish chowder, but Cox and a few friends slid into the seat beside him.
Then they tried to get him to talk before he delivered his speech. Again, he managed to evade the questions.
In his address, the man they call the Rottweiler spoke of inclusion and bridge building and “the orange panel”, a reference to the third colour on the flag of the Republic and not the Dutch World Cup equivalent of Giles, Dunphy and Brady.
“Inspiring” came the verdict from his fans on the floor. “Illuminating . . . We all owe Mr McDowell a debt of gratitude.”
That’s not what they said in Dublin South East back in 2007, but we live in changed times now. Oh, yes.
The Rottweiler sniffed the air and looked across the room. “I see Pat Cox is here!” he exclaimed, before exhorting the crowd to “Look at Belgium!” before sending a secret message across the crowded hall that clearly only Pat could understand about “Flemings and the Walloons”.
Finally, the reporters got their chance.
“I thought I’d never be here again,” Michael trilled as the microphones were thrust under his nose. “We have to hold out the hand of friendship to both communities in Northern Ireland,” he declared. Surely he meant both communities in Fine Gael.
Leo, who was to speak later in the evening, also did his level best not to refer to the unpleasantness in his party. You see, he’s already maturing.
But back to the star attraction. “There are lots of sides to Michael McDowell, including a very mellow side which I hadn’t believed existed,” said Peter Mair, the Florence-based academic, who chaired the session.
There are unconfirmed reports that Pat Cox fainted at this point.
So what about the reports that you are setting up a new political party, Michael?
“I’m not talking about that,” he replied, with a nervous giggle.
But where are these reports coming from?
“I don’t know, it must be coming from you because you’re the first person to raise it here today!”
The voice was rising. He was beginning to sound a little giddy, like Martin Mansergh when he’s on Vincent Browne’s show.
But it’s all over the newspapers? Is there a chance the stories might be true?
“I haven’t seen it in the papers . . . I’m not commenting on any of those issues again.”
What? Not even to kill the rumours stone dead with one flick of your legendary wit?
Nope. Tiny beads of sweat began to break out on his upper lip and forehead.
Ah, go on. What issues? He’s blushing again. And so coy.
“I’m not commenting on any of these issues at all . . . you can read anything you like. ”
And then he skipped away.
Has Richard Bruton branched out into media training? Because Michael McDowell sounded like he was the first customer.
Pat Cox prepared to leave the summer school after speaking non stop for 40 days and 40 nights. Or something like that.
Could he shed any light on the rumours, given that his name is the one that has been most linked to this alleged political affair?
It was Pat’s turn to come over all coy. He hasn’t seen McDowell face to face for months, apart from one very pleasant dinner in the Unicorn restaurant where they discussed European affairs, and stuff.
So all this is just made up? There is no impending birth? The two of them are not politically affianced?
Pat smiled. Not quite radiantly, but you get the idea.
“We haven’t spoken about bad thoughts together, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t sin.”
So there was to be no tryst in the Donegal mist yesterday for Michael McDowell and Pat Cox.
Oh, but there’s something afoot . . .