Heart Beat:A bundle of toys he had flung on his back And he looked like a peddler, just opening his sack. - Clement Clarke Moore
The above quote is from The Night Before Christmas. It came to mind as I watched the Budget. Don't ask me why I watched it, some hidden masochistic feeling I suppose.
Santa (aka Brian Cowen) produced little wrapped presents for everybody from his sack. Behind him was a eunochoid mass of backbenchers who cheered each gift "while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads".
My ears are obviously deteriorating with age, as I could have sworn that after each smug pronouncement they solemnly intoned "Ora pro nobis", that is, pray for us. The Highest Authority tells me it was in fact "hear, hear!"
The vocal support for their man was not extended to Opposition speakers. In fact, many simply buggered off and did not even extend the courtesy of listening to what they might say.
I suppose this should not have surprised me. Don't these people own the country? "Ten years more" was heard from one politician who should have known better. Arrogance is an undesirable affliction. In politicians it can even be fatal.
Budgets used to be simple things - a penny on the pint, a tuppence on the fags and sixpence on the income tax. You could understand that. Now you need firms of accountants to explain it all, what with tax bands, credits and further arcane fiscal convolutions. Now it's hard to find something tangible to bitch about.
When before did you hear Santa waffle on about prudence? The general opinion of the pundits afterwards was that he was by no means as prudent as he had said he was going to be.
Pundits can be rather Scrooge-like - they don't have to be re-elected. Poor Santa gave with one hand and the European Central Bank took with the other. All the gains are being pressed from every direction by rising prices for electricity and gas. It gives the impression that poor Santa has to run hard just to remain in the same place. Also, he knows how ungrateful we are as well as the saying "eaten bread is soon forgotten".
In any case, I am a mere surgeon and don't understand much of this. I was, however, interested in the proposals relating to the health service. More money for carers is clearly positive. Some extra money is to be provided for the psychiatric services. Also good, but it doesn't seem adequate given the scale of the problems. Perhaps Santa could have given all the psychiatrists in the country a long waiting list. It wouldn't cost anything and it wouldn't solve anything. According to the Junior Health Minister Tim O'Malley: "You're not a big doctor unless you've got a big waiting list."
Six of the most respected psychiatrists in the State have recently given a reasoned response to similar flat-earth views from the same source. They even suggested that he should consider his position in view of his responsibility in a particularly sensitive area. After this latest gaffe, it's my opinion that if he won't go, he should be removed. I won't hold my breath.
I nearly forgot a major health measure in the Budget - the price of a pack of cigarettes, increased by 50 cents. This will empty the hospitals.
There are many parodies of George R. Sims' poem, Christmas Day in the workhouse. At a stretch, it deals with a visit by the Minister for Trolleys to an unspecified institution:
Bow down your heads says she with a leer
Cos' I want you all to think of the sins of the flesh that have brought
you here
Tobacco and women and drink
And I'm telling youse now and I'm
telling youse good
And her voice took a dangerous edge
Nobody's eating the pudding
'Till the lot of you take the pledge.
The drink and the tobacco are two elements of the crusade. The women might be more difficult. Who knows, we might not need hospitals at all.
Having placed my stocking at the foot of the tree in anticipation of the biggest Budget bonanza ever, I must confess I was a little disappointed to find that all it contained was a damp squib. But better times are ahead, we are to have a greener country. Motor tax will be reviewed in order to reduce emissions and promote fuel-efficient cars. "They've had nine years to do this," says you. "It could have been in the budget." "Get a life," says I. "Do you think Santa is going to put that in the budget before an election? It would spoil the feel-good factor."
"They don't need to increase road tax," says you, "to reduce emissions, all they have to do is abolish traffic jams and gridlock and that would have the same effect on emissions."
"Who do you think Brian Cowen is?" I asked. "Santa Claus?"
And finally, one more little poem - It was Christmas Eve in the Party:
All the eunuchs were standing there
Watching the lady members
Combing their lustrous hair
Then in came Father Bertie
And his voice echoed through the halls
Saying 'What do you want for Christmas, boys"?
And the eunuchs answered: "An overall
majority in the general election."
Funny, that last bit doesn't seem to rhyme. Happy Christmas to you all.
Maurice Neligan is a cardiac surgeon.