FG leader at home with great expectations as pop-up candidate fails to withstand pressure
FROM RAMPAGING hens to the whooping return of the Bruton bray; besotted matrons; flying babies; tub-thumping; bunting and a bodhran-beating St Patrick – the scope for a banana skin moment for a man who is within touching distance of the office of taoiseach appeared limitless.
And then there was the surprise fifth addition to the ticket: the Inflatable Member for Mayo. A pop-up candidate that ultimately didn’t stand up to the political pressure.
The electoral slapstick provided great entertainment for the masses and the media, but presented a headache for the Kenny camp.
Two recent incidents informed the way this event was handled.
The first was the “Up Mayo!” aftermath of Kenny’s victory in last year’s leadership heave. The backroom boys were horrified.
The second harks back to the day Brian Cowen returned to Offaly as Taoiseach. He deserved his celebration.
But as things went horribly wrong for Cowen and the county; those pictures of him drinking pints of stout and belting out lusty come-all-yas on the back of lorries returned to haunt him.
Lessons duly learned, this was not going to happen to Enda Kenny on Saturday. From his first stop in Claremorris to his final destination in Castlebar, he managed to be part of the merriment while maintaining a statesman-like distance from anything that might give gleeful detractors the chance to link him with bucolic buffoonery.
In the circumstances – Mayo Fine Gael is in a ferment of anticipation – this was no mean task, but it was seamlessly accomplished.
Astonishing opinion poll results have confirmed that the huge public resistance to Kenny as taoiseach has dissipated.
Gauging his level of acceptability was never going to be an issue in Mayo. The challenge was of a different kind – how to keep a lid on the simmering supporters and to make sure their leader could express his pride in his homeplace without diminishing his appeal nationally.
This was done by rolling out the single transferable speech in each town and driving home the detail of Fine Gael’s “five-point plan” at every opportunity.
Supporters gathered in Claremorris at 10 in the morning. As soon as Enda stepped from his car, a gurgling tot was thrust into his arms.
“This is your championship. This is your real contest. You have waited for this election for a very long time,” he told them, sending them off for the final push.
More of the same in Ballina, where a 22-month-old boy wearing a Mayo jersey was flung at him. Enda, surrounded by well-wishers, stood on a stool on the Main Street and hit them between the eyes with the five-point plan again, roaring into the megaphone.
His words were punctuated by a fevered “He-he-ur! He-he-ur!” from one grassroot in the crowd, but no chants of “Up Mayo!” We suspected orders had gone out. And when we got to Westport, home patch of the irrepressible Michael Ring, we knew they did.
The Ringer, as everyone calls him, went one better than a stool, laying on a flatbed truck and music from the “Ron Rosco Roadshow”. As he crossed the Carrowbeg river, Enda was assailed by St Patrick, in full beshamrocked regalia and beating a bodhran.
Ring, the Mouth of Mayo, approached the microphone. The crowd moved away from the speakers. But the Ringer was brief and reserved.
Then, a familiar sound from the fringes. Was somebody collecting for Donkeys in Distress? But no. For it was former taoiseach John Bruton laughing. “Whoop! Aaaw-whoop!” He gave an interview afterwards and spoke glowingly of Enda.
During the walkabout, the Mayor of Westport marshalled her leader up and down the street, beside herself with joy. A lady gave Enda a kiss. “You’ll never wash your lips again!” quivered Teresa Maguire.
Another child was offered up.“Get them young!” carolled Maguire. As the pace hotted up, outgoing deputy John O’Mahony fell back. “John, would you push up to the front, for feck sake. You’re a candidate!”
They broke for lunch in the Castle Court Hotel, where the red carpet was rolled out for Enda’s arrival, thus depriving Mayor Maguire and her red coat of a Walter Raleigh moment.
The travelling party went to the dining room. A number of ladies broke the cordon and rushed the leader’s table.
Then, just as he was sinking a fork into a roast potato, St Patrick returned. “Within five years a Mayo taoiseach will be presenting the Sam Maguire to a Mayo captain,” he boomed. “I’ll die for my county!” And he gave his bodhran a few wallops before exiting with this heartfelt benediction. “Happy Christmas!”
Final stop, Castlebar. We hitched a lift in Michael Ring’s transit van with speakers on the roof like giant gramophone horns. We prepared to move out, but a hen party struck.
They forced open the doors, squealing in delight as they shoved a huge inflatable penis into the cab. “Oh, jesus,” bellowed Michael. “What’ll we do?” Whereupon the Ringer and The Irish Times leaned forward onto the offending toy so it wouldn’t be seen above the dashboard as the photographers moved in.
Undaunted, the hens withdrew their plastic phallus and ran around to Michael’s door. “Michael, will you come out!” they shouted. The Ringer cracked up. “Be careful with that, girls!”
The inflatable penis burst. “Aaah Michael, ya burst the willie,” cried one of the girls. She paused and looked at her outgoing TD. “It’s burst, just like the country” she murmured, rather forlornly. It was quite touching.
Eventually, we hit the road in the newly christened Mickey-Mobile, Abba’s Ring Ring blaring on the loudspeaker. “It’s wired up by the brother who’s in the dishco business,” explained Michael.
“I had a tough day yesterday. Drove to Belmullet and then left for Kiltimagh. Louis Walsh’s mother had her 80th birthday – lovely woman. Linda Martin was there too. Mighty night. Mighty.”
Enda’s wife Fionnuala was waiting in Westport. They embraced, then Fionnuala faded into the background and let her husband do his thing, watching while he addressed the crowd on a bunting-bedecked platform.
He spoke of his deep pride for Mayo, but stressed that his job is to work for the country.
He mentioned the late Liam Coady, his long-time driver and confidante before his untimely death last year. Coady’s bar in Market Street has been painted and a new carpet installed for Enda’s return as taoiseach. Liam’s death hit Enda hard. His widow Kathleen and daughter Regina were in the front row on Saturday, shedding bittersweet tears on a day they knew Liam would have relished.
As for Enda, he seemed lost in thought before it was his turn to speak. The crowd loved him.
“I’m not daunted by the prospect of becoming taoiseach, if that is how it works out. I was here before in 2007 and look what happened then. It’s a bit different now – we knew things were turning then, and I was against a popular taoiseach going for three in a row.
“I’m going home to my family and we’ll review the week. My 16-year-old son is in Germany learning the language and I can’t wait to talk to him. I have about 50 calls to make. We have to keep up the pace. That includes some of our deputies. I’ve already had to ring some of them and tell them to pull up their socks.”
But he must be nervous, the butterflies must be there. You’re so close, Enda – honestly, what will you be feeling when you get home and close that door? “Daddy’s home.”
