DÁIL SKETCH:The entire country was discussing it – except in Leinster House, the FF leader complained
“SURREAL AND unreal,” complained Micheál Martin, lamenting the fact he couldn’t sink his fangs into a tax-fiddling TD on the floor of the Dáil.
It was hard not to feel some sympathy for the Fianna Fáil leader.
His crowd get blamed for everything. (In fairness, there’s a good reason for this.) Enda was at it again yesterday, this time painting an intriguing picture of the last days of the FF empire. Apparently, Biffo and his departing ministers laid waste to Government Buildings on their way out.
They had the shredding machines going faster than a printer in Aengus Ó Snodaigh’s office.
But back to Micheál, who finally had the chance to indulge in a bout of condemnation not involving one of this own brigade.
It’s a very poor show, sniffed Deputy Martin during the Order of Business, that the entire country and Joe Duffy is discussing the VAT-dodging exploits of Mick Wallace but his colleagues in Leinster House can’t say a word.
They should be able to give their views on the issue.
Enda Kenny immediately indicated that he’d love a bit of censure, too.
“The Government stands ready if necessary to put together an all-party motion on this matter,” he pledged.
Meanwhile, Labour’s Emmet Stagg was holding forth on the plinth. Dáil “censureship” would amount to little more than a “slap on the wrist” for Deputy Wallace.
But if “a good citizen makes a report to the gardaí . . . something REALLY could happen”, he wickedly mused.
Emmet wouldn’t have to look any further than his own benches. Deputy Aodhán Ó Ríordán has form when it comes to making complaints to An Garda Síochána. We hear the boys in blue in Clontarf are on full alert.
And where was Deputy Wallace, the man who admits he committed what many are now calling pink-collar crime? Photographers were stationed all day at the front and back gates of Leinster House, but there was no sign of him.
He turned up in the chamber for Leaders’ Questions, wearing the palest of pink T-shirts and a very glum expression.
He had a copy of the Guardian under his arm and another guardian beside him in the form of Deputy Clare Daly.
Which Mick Wallace was gracing the House with his presence? The man is a walking Trinity – three builders in the one bloke.
There’s Corporate Mick (committed VAT fraud), Third Person Singular Mick (nothing to do with him), and Deputy Mick Wallace (for a new kind of politics).
His situation didn’t come up. Instead everyone wanted to talk about the economy, the Spanish bailout and the euro.
Enda Kenny told Micheál Martin that the Government hasn’t the foggiest idea what happened on the night the bank guarantee was agreed by the last coalition.
“Nobody knows what you said. There is no file in the Department of the Taoiseach on this. It’s either shredded or disposed of, or dispatched . . . In other words, the Government has no evidence of the discussion that took place.”
It sounded like Enda was implying the last government destroyed the evidence before they moved out.
What else did they do? Remove the letter “T” from keyboards in the Taoiseach’s department? Glue all the drawers shut? Leave dirty messages on the voicemail system?
This issue requires further investigation.
But first, we must rush to Dunnes Stores and stock up on tinned goods because Shane Ross says the end of the world is nigh.
“Euro Armageddon is approaching us!” quivered the Winston Churchtown of South Dublin, much to the alarm of everyone in the chamber except a preoccupied looking Mick Wallace, whose name had just appeared on Revenue’s list of defaulters.
This was not de fault of third person singular Mick Wallace; it was de fault of Mick Wallace the company, which is a T-shirt of an entirely different colour of pink.
“The euro is in dire danger!” wailed Lord Ross.
“This time next week we could be facing a completely different and catastrophic situation!” But enough about the football.
Artful dodger Mick almost gave the photographers the slip, but he was snapped at teatime driving at speed through the gate at the Department of Agriculture next door.
Surreal and unreal.
