The Last Straw: It seems ironic that in the week we learned of a reduction in violent crime in Ireland, we should also learn of the country's first recorded assault by a dolphin. Yes, Garda figures published on Tuesday show "headline crimes" by humans down by 7 per cent, writes Frank McNally.
But even as we read this welcome news, we were still absorbing the implications of a headline crime ("Swimmers warned after dolphin attacks woman") reported last weekend.
As the Garda press office might put it, the incident in question occurred in Co Clare and the assailant, who is described as "bottle-nosed", left the victim with two cracked ribs. The big difference is that although the attacker was immediately identified - locals call her "Dusty" - she remains at large. A file has not been sent to the DPP. Dolphins are highly intelligent, as we know, sharing many characteristics with humans. But they've had a soft press over the years: invariably portrayed as fun-loving pacifists, and always photographed smiling. Their relationship with the media is one that some of their human cousins - for example, the people of Limerick, often gratuitously connected with violence - must envy.
Dusty's attack on the swimmer - which occurred at Fanore (just 45 miles from Limerick) - may change this. At the very least, it will put the wind up the people of Dingle, who must now be wondering when Fungi will go bad and take a tourist's leg off. And yet it should be no surprise that dolphins are capable of violence like humans, or that they too should be prone, as scientists claim, to sudden rages ("who are you calling bottle-nosed?"). So idealised are they by devotees, however, that their violence is often blamed on us. Several dolphin websites in the US attribute such behaviour to the existence of a "military dolphin programme". This was supposedly started by the first President Bush (whose intolerance of seafood was famous), and uses electrodes implanted in captured dolphins' necks. The animals are then programmed to patrol near military bases or submarines, and attack anything suspect: members of al-Qaeda, left-wingers, people who swim with dolphins, and so on.
Apart from the politics, this sounds like the plot from an episode of Flipper. But then, consider the Co Clare case. According to the report, Dusty has been stationed at Fanore "for the past three summers" (i.e., since the election of the current President Bush).
And, apart from Fanore, what else is in Co Clare? Why, Shannon Airport, of course! So was Dusty a "sleeper" agent? Can it be a coincidence that she suddenly became aggressive this summer, in the wake of lapses of security at Shannon and attacks on US planes? How do you explain the sound of gunshots from the grassy knoll? Sorry, these US websites can affect your sanity. But getting back to the subject, I see from a local website, irishdolphins.com, that the victim of the Co Clare attack is recovering from her injuries and has put the incident behind her, apart from vowing never again to swim with wild dolphins. The site also exonerates Dusty for what it portrays as a crime of passion. Apparently, she was swimming with a male human at the time and may have regarded her female victim as a rival.
But I think the incident could be a watershed in Ireland's relationship with the dolphin community. Just as the powers of dolphins are sometimes exaggerated, Fungi's decision to move here two decades ago has long been portrayed as a semi-mystical event. In a sense, he was the first of the New Age travellers to arrive in Ireland (and insofar as he was no stranger to water, he was more popular than most of those who followed).
He has since rivalled Knock as a visitor attraction, so his elevation to cult status may just have been shrewd marketing by the people of Dingle. And yet I think it has a more profound significance, one to do with Ireland's deep-seated yearning to be a warm country.
Once a Mediterranean people, apparently, we still long for that status. And this need seems to be particularly urgent in Co Kerry, where not a week passes without news of the discovery of some fish never before seen in Irish waters, or an exotic turtle, washed in after apparently mistaking the place for Florida. The arrival of Fungi in the grim 1980s must have seemed a harbinger of global warming that would eventually see palm trees lining Dingle Bay and vineyards on the slopes of Mount Brandon.
There's still no sign of this happening, sadly. Instead of becoming laid-back Mediterraneans, we're more Northern than ever: pale, uptight, and despite the improvement in the latest Garda figures, angry and violent. It's no surprise that even our Flippers are flipping.