IT was the lunchtime of the long knives in Brussels on Wednesday. EU President, Romano Prodi struck terror into the hearts of hundreds of senior Eurocrats as he purged jobs throughout the Commission in what many fear may be only the first of his clean-up moves. His action was described by one fonctionnaire, who was keeping his head well down for fear of disturbance, as similar to the Irish government sacking half the departmental secretary generals overnight and opening the positions to competition. In addition, the number of Commission departments dropped from 42 to 36.
Ireland, however, got off likely. We didn't lose any director generals (as the top civil servants in Euro departments are called), because we didn't have any to start with. And because we hold what is considered the most powerful of all civil service jobs - David O'Sullivan is Prodi's chef de cabinet - we can't moan if Irish people fail to fill the top vacancies. This is not the case for other countries however. The French are furious that they lost the agriculture DG which they have always held and which is most powerful because of the money it dispenses. The Italians feel the same about losing the economic DG. This is called deflagging in Eurospeak and it hasn't gone down at all well.
Ironically, to French rage, the semi-detached British were the big winners, as they secured seven of the top 30 jobs. Despite worry among the smaller countries about been sidelined in the jobs department, there is talk that we may get a number-two job, in that Catherine Day is rated strongly for an assistant DG position.
The other matter occupying minds in Brussels this week was the bomb. Considering their record, there is now little expectation that the Belgian police will solve the mystery of the fake bomb discovered in Chris Patten's office last week. The new Commissioner for External Relations had no sooner been ratified by the Parliament than, while unpacking boxes of junk, (as the miscellaneous office files and equipment sent over to his successor by outgoing commissioner Leon Brittan was referred to), there appeared to be an attempt to blow him up. There among the junk was a alarm clock complete with protruding wires and circuit board.
As the huge Charlemagne building was evacuated, the finger of suspicion pointed at Irish terrorists of indeterminate persuasion. Since Patten's report on the RUC hasn't gone down too well among loyalists, it was feared they might have extended operations to Brussels. However, closer examination revealed the "bomb" to be an elaborate hoax and either a practical joke (a rare occurrence in Belgium), a long-forgotten item in some fonctionnaire's effects, or the result of a Britten/Patten feud. Much of the evidence was destroyed when it was blown up by a robot, but rest easy, Inspector Clouseau and his team are on the job.