WITH THE LEADERS:Dogs may have their dignity but a party leader on the campaign trail will abandon his for a photo opportunity, writes MIRIAM LORD
“LET’S GET Ireland working!” exhorted the leader of Fine Gael before sloping off to the bookies, where they were expecting him.
Tell that to the women in Paddy Power’s.
“Which one of you will be taking Enda Kenny’s bet,” we asked the two cashiers behind the counter.
They shrugged their shoulders. It turned out neither would be dealing with the man most likely to be taoiseach.
“We’re being replaced by a dog.”
Sure enough, when the time came for Enda to place his charity wager, a shaggy dog by the name of Clive popped up behind the bulletproof glass and plonked his substantial paws on the counter in a businesslike fashion.
Enda didn’t bat an eyelid. That’s what years of dealing with the Fine Gael front bench does to a person.
He presented his completed dockets to Clive – thus immediately marking himself out as a potential customer of Guide Dogs for the Blind, who stand to benefit to the tune of €5,000 as a result of yesterday’s joint publicity wheeze for Enda and the bookmaker.
Calm despite extreme provocation, a stoical Clive gazed dolefully at his owner through the partition and refused to recognise the scary man who kept hitting him on the snout with betting slips.
Clive is a goldendoodle – which makes him a cross between a Labrador retriever and a standard poodle.
He is a working dog and he has his dignity.
Enda is a strawberryblue – which makes him a cross between a strawberry blonde and a Blueshirt.
He is a working politician. He is fighting a general election. There is no such thing as dignity.
Eamon Gilmore posed with a dead halibut in Cork last week, studying it in smiling wonderment as if it had just told him the third secret of Fatima.
As we are seeing, all sense of decorum and reality goes out the window when it comes to politicians and general election photo opportunities. It’s a very crowded market out there and a leader will do what a leader has to do to get noticed.
Also in that photo was Gilmore’s colleague Ciarán Lynch, outgoing deputy for Cork South Central. Other local representatives didn’t make the frame. Afterwards, one of them complained about being cut out of the picture and wondered why this happened.
The experienced Lynch gave him some invaluable advice. It is advice that all aspiring deputies would do well to remember when they hit the trail.
“Stay close to the fish,” counselled Ciarán. “Always stay close to the fish.”
This is exactly what Enda did yesterday, except Clive was his halibut, ably assisted by Nikita the Labrador puppy and three young goldendoodles.
The Paddy Power charity bet has become something a general election tradition. Bertie Ahern would pitch up in the Merc and plunge inside, causing mayhem as he shamelessly hammed it up with the ever-so-photogenic doggies. During the last election, a photographer was injured in the melee when the Bert brandished a stunned baby retriever in front of startled punters.
This time, with no taoiseach to speak of, it was interesting to see that Enda Kenny was the one in the limelight this time around.
“Other politicians will be coming here as well,” said a spokesman for the bookie. “But in fairness to Fine Gael, they were first out of the traps.”
Kenny arrived late, having given journalists all the time they needed to ask questions at his morning briefing. This followed a very fractious press conference the morning before, when some of our more thrusting journalistic stags decided it was time to lock antlers with Fine Gael and put a bit of manners on them for ending the session far too quickly.
Yesterday morning, the party leader put in his best performance yet when launching his jobs-development strategy.
With Richard Bruton on one side of him and Leo Varadkar on the other, Inda sounded authoritative and assured. It was a good morning for him. You could see his team of handlers relax as the press conference progressed.
With Enda, so much has been written about his propensity to combust under media pressure that one began to wonder if it was becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy for him. Self-belief is all for people who aspire to lead. Could we discern the doubts creeping in? The team surrounding Enda Kenny look perpetually haunted. They will worry for the rest of this campaign. But yesterday, despite the best efforts of those of us employed to look for weaknesses, the Fine Gael leader did extremely well.
He knocked everyone for six when he delivered an understandable explanation of “cloud computing”. The question had been asked to catch him out.
He got a round of applause from the media and weak-kneed handlers for his ability to learn and his aplomb.
The other two, Richard and Leo, also did a lot of talking. “If I say so myself, this really is a good document,” said Leo.
Which brings us back to the bookies.
Enda pulled up in a big black Merc. (Just in case anybody thinks he isn’t serious about this taoiseach thing.) As soon as he got in the door, he was handed Nikita. She wore a little jacket. It said: “Pup in Training”. You could see Enda was very taken by the jacket. Maybe he could get one made up for Leo? The man who may be taoiseach clutched the shell-shocked pup and simpered for all he was worth.
“She’ll give you a kiss if you turn into her.” She didn’t.
“If you give her a bit of a blow, she’ll kiss you on the face.” Cripes. She didn’t.
Enda didn’t care. He knelt on the floor, knee joints cracking, Nikita in his arms.
Lovely. His handlers wept for joy.
Then Clive was produced. Curly golden hair. Mature. Clive wouldn’t kiss him either.
“Can he show his teeth?” asked Enda, pawing at poor Clive’s handsome muzzle. He wouldn’t. Admirable reserve.
So Clive was persuaded to get up on his hind legs and put his paws on Enda’s shoulders and the two of them waltzed around the floor of the bookies.
Clive, by the way, is not a guide dog. He is a valued companion to an autistic boy and is known as an “assistance dog”. He knows his business, as a grateful Enda can attest.
A grizzled punter watched from the sidelines as they danced.
“That Eamon Gilmore’s let himself go.”