Politicians is a new show on UTV in which aspiring politicians are auditioned and eventually - after a series of 12 programmes - selected for parliament by votes phoned in by viewers at home. In the initial show on Saturday, we saw the first "hopefuls" arrive for the audition.
Lionel was a pompous 50-something Conservative toff from rural Shropshire, hoping to cash in on disillusionment with the Labour Party. Lauren was an equally feisty 26-year-old Blairite from London, who eventually hopes to become Britain's first female prime minister(!). Other potential politicians included an enthusiastic Lib Dem student union activist with bouncy hair and a rather gorgeous dancer/singer/songwriter who thought the audition was to select members for a pop group. This seemed to me to be a much better idea, and maybe some other enterprising TV company will take it up in the future. Producer Denis De La Mer (in French, literally, "of the sea") came up with some interesting facts. Did you know, for example, that in the upcoming British general election, every vote will be cast on the Internet? Or that, for the first time, cyberspace is an actual constituency? It was also fascinating to learn that ugly candidates have such little hope of being elected to parliament that there has even been talk of introducing legislation to allow only those who are at least "reasonable looking" to stand for office. (It's a good job such a rule doesn't exist in our own country, as every aspirant for political office would be effectively barred!)
It has been some days since I wrote the above review. At approximately 3 a.m. today, I was woken by sounds coming from my downstairs study. When I went to investigate, I was shocked and surprised to see one of Ireland's leading politicians reading the above paragraphs on my Apple Mac computer. Unfortunately, he read the last sentence in the paragraph, and, quite wrongly, took it as a reference to himself. He was very upset to read my disparaging comments on what he perceived to be his own his physical appearance, and asked if he could possibly have a glass of whiskey to settle his nerves. He explained that he had broken into my house in connection with my intention to set up a tribunal to name publicly the cast members of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat who burnt down my house in 1975, a fact which I have vaguely mentioned here before, but had not expected to discover a crude description of his own facial characteristics on my computer screen.
I said to him that, while I regretted that he had taken offence at my comments, they were very much written in a lighthearted manner in the usual style of this column, and that it was a general, and admittedly overly flippant observation, which was not even particularly aimed at him. In fact, I regarded him as one of the Dail's better-looking TDs. He seemed to perk up a bit at this stage, and then said: "Really? Do you think I'm good-looking?" I had to admit that the fact I thought that he was one of the better-looking TDs didn't mean he was exactly Brad Pitt, but he would certainly be better-looking than anyone in the Questions And Answers audience (see column of 13/12/00). At this, he flew into a paranoid rage, and knocked over my signed picture of Father Brian D'Arcy.
"Look at that b*****d! I bet you think he's good-looking!" I said I thought Father B D'A was actually quite good-looking, and still looks fit and healthy, despite all the s*** he's had to go through over the past few years. This enraged the TD even further, and he kicked over my desk and emptied the remains of the whiskey bottle onto my keyboard. This was a shocking display of ill-temper from an ex-minister (yes - sadly true), and I explained to him that if he didn't calm down, I'd have to call the guards. His response was just what one would expect from a politician; he asked for more drink. I explained that I didn't have any, and he then became even more violent, tearing the cushions on my sofa apart with his teeth. Before long, he was running naked around my study, shouting. Eventually, I was left with no choice but to call the police. They arrived promptly and took the errant TD away. They said that this was far from the only time that this man had caused them trouble.
All this just goes to show how people can take offence at even the slightest criticism. Like going to school, it has certainly been a learning experience. However, unlike going to school, you don't have to get a lift home from your parents afterwards.
Arthur Mathews's comic novel, Well Remembered Days, is published by MacMillan