ON THE CANVASS:Easily recognisable in his political ice-cream van, he takes the flak with good humour
BRIAN HAYES drives into the car park of Kilnamanagh shopping centre in Tallaght in a car that's come straight out of MTV's Pimp My Ride.
Every visible inch of surface space has dayglo slogans extolling the intelligence, kindness and endless humanity of Brian Hayes.
The deputy for Dublin South West bounds out of his car with an energetic leap. It’s now 4.30pm and he’s been on the go since 7am doing the various estates of Tallaght and surrounding areas.
His first gig was a breakfast meeting for 400 students at TCD. Though now in his 40s, he could almost pass for one of the students with his raffish scarf and youthful demeanour.
When an uber-confident Hayes first hit the political scene he was labelled a young fogey. He was the guy who always had the “lámh suas” in class, bursting to share his knowledge. The label has stuck though it no longer reflects reality.
Hayes joined Fine Gael on the back of its ideology rather than any family tradition (as a student, he briefly joined Democratic Left because of its stance on the Northern question). He can be a contrarian and can rub people up the wrong way. But against that, he is also one of the friendliest and funniest TDs in Leinster House.
Last June, when he was on the losing side of the leadership challenge, he was crestfallen and inconsolable. But he has bounced back, and having been given the deputy finance portfolio, his ebullience and irrepressibility of old is on display again.
As he drives around Tallaght in his political ice-cream van, Hayes muses aloud more than once that Fine Gael has captured the silent majority this time.
Ironically, it’s the very vocal minority who accost him today. He takes almost as much flak as a Fianna Fáiler. He’s quizzed up and down and draws ire when he doesn’t tell people what they want to hear.
But it is generally good-humoured and his quips come at regular intervals.
“Here’s my flyer,” he says to one woman passing quickly by. “Take it home and throw darts at it later.” Another says she made up her mind last night and she would vote for him. “Ah,” he says, “my flyer came through the letter box and you swallowed the propaganda.”
But occasionally, he can’t desist from a bit of goading that can sail close to the wind. One woman tells him she likes Gerry Adams’s way. He smiles, looks at her quizzically from the corner of his eyes, and says: “Ah yes Gerry Adams who will burn the bondholders and make no cuts in anything. That Gerry Adams!” And then, still smiling, he continues to have a right old go at Adams.
She is not impressed.
A teenager tells him that Hayes has added him as a friend in Facebook.
Which leads Hayes to inform us: “I got an endorsement from a local star.” Oh, yes? “Ben Morris.” Who? “He won Fame the Musical [an RTÉ talent show].” Hayes can’t help himself.
“It was like being endorsed by Kenneth Branagh!” he says, a big smile on his face.
Voter recognition of him is high here. He’s a Fine Gaeler but his bailiwick isn’t middle-class Templeogue but Tallaght. He hears out every conversation. Some go on forever. A man in his fifties with spiky hair complains about Fine Gael.
“Are youse going to burn the bondholders?” Hayes replies: “There’s no burning of anybody. There’s burden-sharing.” Man: “There’s burning of blind people and pensioners. These bondholder were gamblers. Them f***ers, for want of a better word, should be burned.”
A cyclical exchange follows. Hayes engages. Ten minutes later, a queue of questioners has built up. And after all the sweat and effort, the man says “I’ll think of giving you a vote, Conor,” before walking away.
Hayes shakes his head ruefully.
Some genuine local concerns crop up such as the lack of public bins, anti-social behaviour and people being cut off by utility companies.
A woman in her 60s approaches him and tells him she has been a Fianna Fáiler all her life but is very disillusioned. “I’ve a son and daughter not working. The whole three parties turn me off, Brian.”
His pitch to her, hands held apart in appeal: “I’ve been meeting Fianna Fáil people who feel exactly the same. Can I ask you, just for this election will you loan me your vote? And then you can go back voting FF for the rest of your life.”
She replies: “For this one only I might. You’d better be right,” she warns.
He is asked will Fine Gael reverse college fees, cuts in student nurses’ pay, in social welfare and pensions. No, no, no, no, he says.
A woman from Tallaght in her early 40s is worried about her son going into college: “We will be in debt for a very long time with fees and mortgage.
“We are in debt until we die. My son will be saddled with debt and will not be able to get on in life.”
No relenting from Hayes. “I make no apologies for saying that funding needs to be focused at primary schools. People should also make a little contribution. I can not give you any promise.” He gives her no consolation on the prospect of reversing the universal social charge on her “minuscule wage”.
“That’s a vote lost,” he says, as she walks away. Meanwhile, the silent majority of shoppers – many of whom will vote for him – file by.
