Wake me up when politics finds its colour

MAY you live in interesting times, goes the old Chinese proverb. They clearly don’t pay attention to ancient wisdom in the Dáil, where Paschal Donohoe could be found delivering the most boring Budget in living memory. It was so yawn-inducing that I’m pretty sure I nodded off half-way through, only to re-awake to find that he was still speaking. The ennui was perfectly captured by one man on RTÉ, accosted on the street by a ‘Morning Ireland’ reporter to give his reaction. “What budget?” he replied, bemused.

Exactly. I found myself longing for the good old days of Charlie McCreevy galloping up to Leinster House with the gleeful air of a punter at the bookies intent on gambling his life-savings on the 2.20 at Chepstow. Even the usually dour Brian Cowen managed to make the day itself appear festive, showing up with assorted family members and brandishing his briefcase like it was a Hermes Birkin.

It’s not Paschal’s fault, but the political landscape is strangely colourless. Sure, we have horrific housing and healthcare crises, but these are so intractable they’ve become staples. It’s as if, having been through the madness of the boom and the despair of the downturn, we’ve all settled down to a period of torpor, where our biggest diversion is to look across the water at the US and Britain and marvel at the mess they are making of things. For once, it’s not us.

Not even the presidential election is providing light entertainment. There is precious little to distinguish the mindless platitudes of your Joans from your Gavins. This morning I sat down to read Seán Gallagher’s election leaflet, which had just popped through the letterbox. It began: “As a parent, I want to use my energy and experience to create a society where every citizen has the opportunity to reach their full potential .... ” and that’s as far as I got before I passed out again. What a shame Bunty Twuntingdon-McFuff didn’t get the nomination. Shame, too, she didn’t deliver the Budget.