As any writer will tell you, the first paragraph is always the most difficult. Newton Emerson imagines the Taoiseach's drafting nightmare.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard this Irish Air Corps flight to Brussels. We will be cruising at an altitude of 11384.62 metres and a speed of 837.91 kilometres per hour."
The Taoiseach glanced back down at the notepad on his lap, its open page still blank bar the plaintive heading "European Constitution?" He'd been up all night trying to think of something but the ideas just wouldn't come - and this time Romano Prodi was insisting on results.
"Jesus Mary," he said, turning to Mary Harney in the executive-class calf-skin recliner beside him. "This reminds me of doing my homework on the bus."
Harney looked horrified. "An Taoiseach," she replied, "Presentation Convent girls never do their homework on the bus."
Well, this lot won't be any help, the Taoiseach realised grimly, and with Micheál Martin monopolising the rear-executive duck-down divan he couldn't even have a fag in the toilet.
As usual he was just going to have to get down to business and sort this mess out himself. So picking up his pen he began to write. "The national territory consists of the continent of Europe, its islands and . . . " Damn. The Turks wouldn't mind that but the Swiss would definitely kick up a stink - bloody Protestants.
He tried again. "In the name of the most Holy Trinity, from Whom is all authority and to Whom . . . " Damn, the Taoiseach thought, slamming the pen back down again, that Polish ambassador was a slippery one with an argument.
Okay, man, concentrate, concentrate. "In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Europe, through us, summons her children to her flag and strikes for her freedom."
That was slightly better, the Taoiseach reckoned half-heartedly. The French wouldn't like the bit about God, of course, but they'd be pleased with the bit about strikes.
However, mentioning the dead generations was bound to be seen as a dig at the Germans, which wasn't very sensible, especially when they'd still be getting the bill for this circus several generations into the future.
Really it would be much simpler to go for the British system - no constitution and a king. The Taoiseach entertained a brief suspicion that this might please Romano Prodi more than anything else he was likely to come up with.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be turning south to avoid Cambridgeshire as the US Air Force has refused us permission to overfly without a sky marshal on board."
Now there's an idea, the Taoiseach thought, why not just copy the Americans? "We the people, in order to form a more perfect European Union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common defence . . ." Damn. The Brits would never go for common defence - and Fianna Fáil would never go for common defence with the Brits involved.
He tried again. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are . . . " Damn. If he listed all the rights Brussels considered to be self-evident then he might as well hand Prodi a copy of the Golden Pages.
Besides those third-rate solicitors in Strasbourg would trap the whole thing in committee for years if they thought the Commission was trying to muscle in on their lucrative little patch.
Bloody Eurocrats, thought the Taoiseach, and not for the first time. They spend 20 years in the Sorbonne banging on about the evils of imperialism, then spend the rest of their lives building empires. Plus they wouldn't swallow anything from America, literally or metaphorically. It didn't agree with their constitution.
So if they wanted an Irish input then he'd just have to go back to basics, the Taoiseach decided firmly. He'd start with Ireland's very own article one. "The European nation hereby affirms its inalienable, indefeasible and sovereign right to choose its own form of government." Except that wouldn't work either, would it? There was no European nation to choose a government - in fact the European government had somehow acquired the right to choose its nations. How on earth could he word a constitution for such an arse-about-face fiasco?
"Ladies and gentlemen."
Annoyed for a moment by the distraction, a smile slowly spread across the Taoiseach's face as he listened to the captain's final announcement.
Of course, that was it, he thought, turning over a brand-new page as at last the words began to flow. "We the people, beginning our descent into Brussels . . . "
Newton Emerson is editor of the satirical website portadownnews.com