ON THE CANVAS:Brace yourselves voters – Enda's coming to a town near you and he's got hugs in store for the disillusioned and a slap on the back for everyone else
BRACE YOURSELVES! Inda’s getting huggy. In a major policy statement yesterday, the Fine Gael leader announced he will be “putting the arm of politics about people who are disillusioned”.
(Obviously, Kenny hopes the arm of politics is attached to the hand of history. And the fingers of fate.)
This was no idle threat. The declaration sent a chill through journalists covering his press conference. Should they write a straightforward report on his plan to hold referendums on political reform after one year in power, or should they issue an immediate alert to innocent voters about the danger lurking in their midst?
Because Enda, you see, is a bit too enthusiastic when it comes to putting his arms about. When the handlers told him it was possible for Fine Gael to come home with a thumping majority, they didn’t mean him to take it literally.
On Saturday, we watched as he punched, prodded and walloped his way through the shopping centres of north and west Dublin.
Nobody is immune from the bonhomie of the Thumper Kenny.
After his party’s good showing in the latest opinion poll, Enda is in buoyant mood – which can only mean one thing: danger here!
“We had a brief chat, and as we parted, I got three wallops on the back. I nearly coughed up a lung,” a female political correspondent said. “Enda just punched me in the chest,” reported a male counterpart. “It hurt.”
You have been warned.
Cheesy sound bites and hearty wallops aside, following Enda over the weekend was an intriguing exercise. The campaign has a long way to go – not least, tonight’s five-way debate on RTÉ and the eagerly awaited three-way tussle in the final week. Even so, there was something a bit different about Enda this time.
There was something different too, in the way the public reacted to him. Yesterday morning, he was more relaxed and assured than we’ve ever seen him.
He was asked, for example, about his relationship with Gerry Adams. “I don’t get on with him that well, actually,” came the startlingly forthright reply.
After the briefing, Kenny went for a photocall in front of the Four Courts. He had to cross two busy roads from the Clarence Hotel. There were lots of beeps of recognition from smiling motorists and only a couple of hostile reactions.
It almost mirrored the reception he received in six busy shopping centres around Dublin on Saturday.
We really didn’t expect that.
Why? Because in our experience, mention of Enda has always provoked a reaction ranging from derisory to downright dismissive.
It was straight into the belly of the beast with a visit to Artane Castle Shopping Centre in Dublin North Central – the happy hunting ground of Charlie Haughey and Bertie Ahern. A teacher from Clontarf cornered Enda in the frozen food aisle and grilled over his plans to abolish compulsory Irish. He was in front of a big display reading “battered cod”
Yvonne O’Toole conversed with him in Irish for nearly 10 minutes. “I just thought that battle had to be fought,” she said afterwards. “I didn’t give in to him, but he has lovely Irish.”
A mother told him about her son with a master’s in international relations who can’t get a job. “Is he on the dole?” asked a solicitous Enda.
“No, he’s in Sweden.”
On to the Omni Park centre in Santry. Enda went to his favourite canvassing spot – a cafe. He whacked a man on the back to announce his presence, moving swiftly on as the man removed his fork to check if he still had any teeth. He sat beside a couple having their breakfast and cooed at their baby. Then he left them, bewildered, in his wake.
What did he say? “The beans and the rashers,” replied the Dad. “He just said ‘the beans and the rashers’.” But there was a gorgeous, photogenic little tot that Enda couldn’t pass. Four- year-old Christian Bodie was with mother Karen and Suzanne Treacy, who is chairwoman of Heart Children Ireland.
As the man most likely to be taoiseach held Christian in his arms, Suzanne and Karen asked him to give a commitment that the new children’s hospital will be built. They don’t care where, they just want a facility. Christian has a heart condition and has had two operations already.
“It will be built,” said Enda. Within the hour, an e-mail lands from Fianna Fáil’s Barry Andrews. “Kenny’s hospital promise is deeply cynical,” is the heading. In this election, Fianna Fáil is monitoring, rather than campaigning.
Kathleen Friel, who runs a small business, BDF Commercials in Lusk, buttonholes Enda. She is angry. She tells him her back is to the wall and she is fighting to keep her employees. They engage. And talk. And talk. And Enda rolls out his five-point plan again.
What did she think? “To be honest with you, I’ve changed my opinion. He has impressed me on the one to one. He hasn’t impressed me on television. I would have always voted Fianna Fáil, but they’ve done nothing for me. I’m like a tiger in the long grass, waiting for one of them to knock on my door.”
On to Blanchardstown. Enda is in deep conversation with taxi drivers at the rank. He is sympathetic. Leo Varadkar stands to one side as a driver harangues him. He isn’t sympathetic.
Enda beetles off, probably satisfied with a job well done. He doesn’t hear the man shouting “Did you hear what he said, Leo Varadakar? He said we need part-timers at the weekend, he said . . .”
A hairdresser comes out of Peter Mark. “I’ve a massive mortgage and bills coming out of my ears.” Enda outlines a number of measures which may help her. It’s a long conversation. “That’s good” says Carolann Cantwell. “I’ll have a think about it.”
She heads back. “He’s good. He changed my mind slightly. I liked Bertie though.” Have you not got a client waiting inside? “Ah no, she’s grand. She’s getting shampooed.”
Leo seems relieved when the canvass is over. “I find them very difficult. I think I’ll go home and read a book.”
Senator Frances Fitzgerald and Derek Keating wait at Liffey Valley. These two could end up killing each other before the election is out. By the end of their sweep through the centre, there were fears the pair of them would have to be surgically removed from Enda’s shoulder.
A woman puts her daughter’s case. “She has the oldest windows that’s in Dublin. They’re a health hazard.” Enda takes control. “Emer, will you take this woman’s number?”
There is a long engagement with a woman who has lost her job. She argues with Kenny. What the hell would he know about being unemployed? He perseveres. Eventually, they seem to reach a sort of truce.
“I have to say, he was more approachable than I would have thought from seeing him on the TV. He’s more personable than I thought. That he stayed, instead of walking away, meant something.” It happened again and again. No rows. No insults. No abuse. Not even for the sake of balance – can’t say otherwise.
