ON THE CANVASS with BRIAN COWEN:The Taoiseach seems to spend most of his time electioneering in a controlled environment
THINGS ARE looking up for Brian Cowen.
After his flying visit to Dingle, the people at Oceanworld named a large crustacean in his honour.
Brian the crab.Well, it’s a start.
In a way, it was appropriate, given the way the Taoiseach scuttled around Kerry and west Cork yesterday. His approach to canvassing during this campaign has been strangely sideways.
Unlike his fearsome namesake in the aquarium – it’s an Alaskan King Crab – Brian the Taoiseach seems to have much more in common with the soft-shelled variety. How else can his reluctance to put himself about among the general public be explained? In the last few weeks, a common thread has emerged from his electioneering trips around the country.
Most of his engagements take place in controlled environments. He comes to a town and visits the local party supporters. He performs official openings. He does things in hotels, schools. Meets people wearing chains of office.
Yet he seems to think he is swashbuckling his way through the election and fighting for every vote.
No, he isn’t.
God help us – and we have tried not to think this way – but there is more than a touch of the ill-fated Michael Noonan Baldy-bus about this.
Take Killarney yesterday. A sunny day, the start of a bank holiday weekend and the Friday morning promise of a buzzing tourist town to be exploited.
What did the Taoiseach do? He touched down by helicopter in a field on the outskirts and was greeted by an audience of primary schoolchildren at their annual sports day and a small gathering of party hacks in dark suits.
He went across the road to Fitzgerald Stadium, home of Kerry GAA. He held a chaotic press conference against a crash barrier on the terraces, met local election candidates in private, then legged it back to the helicopter and left.
In the last while, Fine Gael leader Enda Kenny and Labour leader Eamon Gilmore have toured the town on their election sweep. Both men braved the main streets, pressing the flesh and engaging with the voters.
Brian the soft-shelled crab scuttled away without going near the town centre. He’d probably have a panic attack if he had to go into a supermarket.
Schedules, schedules. Tight schedules. He’s a busy man, running the country and running away from the plain people.
These things are noticed.
Some journalists travelled from Cork, even though Brian was going to be in the county later in the afternoon. They couldn’t believe that, with just a week to go to the polls, he was visiting the county and not stopping to do a canvass in the city.
But back to the Croke’s field in Killarney, and the local councillors and party stalwarts scanning the skies for their Taoiseach’s helicopter. (Paid for, the party is at pains to stress, out of Fianna Fáil funds.) The chopper appeared overhead and the schoolchildren squealed. The reception party raced out on to the turf as it prepared to land, only to lurch violently to the right, caught in a crosswind, and climb again. When it finally touched down, the suits charged for the door. A local photographer had to grab Senator Mark Daly and hold him back, for fear he would be sucked up by the rotors and sliced into a million pieces.
Euro election candidate Ned O’Keeffe had travelled from Cork for the occasion. He scuttled at speed towards his leader, hunched over like Mr Bean. The Taoiseach alighted and the politicians enveloped their man.
A woman pierced the wall. “What feelgood factor are you bringing down here?” she demanded angrily. “Absolutely nothing.” Brian Cowen tried his best. “We’ll get there,” he replied limply, moving on.
The Taoiseach and the local politicians lined up and walked across the field towards the exit. Not a woman among them.
Across to the rebuilt stadium – a fine facility, befitting the fine footballers of the Kingdom. The press conference took place at the top of the steps leading on to the new terrace. It was quite a crush.
The local photographers were disgusted. One of them had fallen over on the Croke’s field, mown down by the fevered politicians.
“A scrum in Fitzgerald Stadium,” snorted one of them, gazing over the iconic turf. “That’s a first for the GAA in Kerry.” The press conference was disturbing. The journalists only wanted to ask his views on the Irish Times opinion poll.
Brian Cowen repeated the same thing, again and again. The party was out there, putting its case, fighting for every vote. Seven days to do it.
Heads on plates were mentioned. Is he worried? How bad will it be? “One at a time, lads!” said Brian wearily.
Then he went to the aquarium. The handlers moved in before the snappers could photograph the Taoiseach standing beside a pirate. He didn’t go in to see the sharks but posed outside under the baleful gaze of a large inflatable one.
He marvelled at the Alaskan King Crab. The handlers didn’t want him to hold it.
They name all their fishy exhibits in Oceanworld – a terrific place. When the Taoiseach had scuttled off yesterday, they decided to call the crab Brian.
A singular honour.
It’s hard to know which Brian looked the happier yesterday.
Seven days now, to take advantage of the upturn.
If yesterday is anything to go by, don’t hold your breath.
