IF THE Progressive Democrats could clone her they would. The woman in the little boutique summed up the Mary Harney factor yesterday. "I like Mary," she twinkled. "She'd certainly get my number one vote." What about the local PD candidate, John Dardis? "Oh I don't really know him..."
Earlier, the Harneycopter (the best means of transport when your leader needs to be everywhere at once) landed on a rugby pitch outside Athy, Co Kildare. The leader stepped unruffled from the small machine to be whisked into town.
Party workers worked the streets in their white sweatshirts, like radio station promotion babes. The prize was a handshake from Mary. And most of the punters also got to make a request. "I hope ya put that Bruton in his place," one woman said. "Bertie will be doing that tomorrow night," Mary answered.
She barely glanced at the headlines in Petitt's supermarket, saying Bertie would have to make up the ground she lost to Dick Spring in their TV debate. That was just the meedja, one of her campaign workers insisted. Everyone on canvass yesterday morning said Mary had won.
In the £1 discount shop, a woman asked Mary if she could get her the money to buy leather shoes. Her blue £1.99 flip-flops were all she could afford.
Canvassing in navy leather high-heels, Mary looked concerned and asked her how long she had been out of work and had she ever done a training course?
John Dardis whipped out his notebook and got the woman's address. "That's just two days worth," he said later as he flipped through the full pages. Other requests were treated the same way: Mary listening and John taking the details.
One man complained about the costs of his wife's medication. John promised to be in touch. "Yeah," the man said, his voice dripping sarcasm at the retreating backs. "Now's the time to be talking."
It was all a bit of a blur until Mary came to the woman in the yellow dress and mohair cardigan. "I met you at Midland's Radio," the woman said. "You put in a good word for my struggle."
The penny dropped. Mary's party workers looked at the woman's feet in strappy sandals and the circus moved on. Did I know who that was back there they all asked further down the street.
It was Dr Lydia Foy, who had taken a High Court case to have her sex on her birth certificate changed. Born a man, she had "gender reassignment" surgery to become a woman.
