It was a beautiful evening, by all accounts.
In fact, there was hardly a dry seat in the house by the time James Reilly stopped singing.
The Minister for Health rounded off his day hosting fellow European health ministers in Dublin Castle on Monday night with an electrifying performance of Raglan Road.
Proof, perhaps, that the Department of Foreign Affairs is getting the full value out of that controversial stock of wine used for buttering up visiting bigwigs.
But there is a reason why Calamity James burst into song, and it had nothing to do with the wine – it was expected of him.
The health honchos gathered in Dublin for a meeting hosted by Reilly as part of Ireland’s EU presidency. According to a well-placed source, “a tradition has evolved” whereby the host health minister is expected to sing to his guests at the end of their session.
Apparently the Cypriot minister for health delivered an impassioned interpretation of a poignant folk song during the last presidency, so James had a hard act to follow.
After their deliberations (obesity and the scourge of tobacco among the topics), the ministers and the commissioner for health, along with attendant advisers and Eurocrats, repaired to St Patrick’s Hall for dinner.
But before as much as a bread roll was nibbled, a fine broth of a boy emerged from the shadows and wound his way around the tables until he reached the stage, beating lumps out of a bodhrán as he went.
Then a violinist appeared and he fiddled around the hall until he too found the platform. There was, of course, dancing.
“And,” marvelled our informant, who doesn’t get out much, “there was a harpist going up the stairs.” But she was actually sitting on the landing.
Eventually, things settled down and a ballad group called The Dublin Ramblers played during the meal. Song sheets were distributed in case some of the continentals wanted to warble along. They were delighted.
Soon it was coffee time and Minister Reilly padded up to the platform to say a few words.
Then, all of a sudden, he turned quiet and mournful. Having duly composed himself, Dicey launched into an emotional rendition of Raglan Road. Well.
You could have heard a pin drop. The iPhones came out and people started recording the performance.
“He threw himself into it – doing hand gestures and everything. It was very moving. I was reminded of Luke Kelly”, said one audience member of the singing Minister who is the spitting image of folk musician Jim McCann.
Have they ever been seen in the same room? Reilly also bears an uncanny resemblance to Brendan Grace, another bearded Irish man who is well able to belt out a tune.
When the Minister finished, the crowd gave him a lengthy and noisy ovation. One senior Italian adviser leapt to his feet, transported back to La Scala. “Bravo! Bravo!”, he bellowed. “Bravo!”
Needless to say, the shouts for an encore started immediately.
What did he sing? Cushy Butterfield? Dicey Reilly? No. Calamity James followed up with an epic rendition of Molly Malone.
The song sheets were fished out again and the visitors sang along.
He sent them home sweatin’.
