Niamh Walsh’s Manifesto
Big Fella Ben never hid from his mistakes
BEN DUNNE, who died last week at the age of 74, was still a relatively young man.
While I have little doubt that Dunne would have relished a few more years on the planet, it is certain that he lived life to the fullest.
I can’t claim to have known Dunne, but one interaction some Christmases ago in the Shelbourne Hotel was memorable.
I won’t reprise the full details of the story, but it involved, lets call it, indecorous behaviour in the Horsehoe Bar in Christmas week.
The morning-after-the-nightbefore, it was with some trepidation, that I called Dunne seeking comment on his antics.
But, instead of being met with belligerence, or threats of hellfire and the High Court, Mr Dunne took it in his proverbial stride.
While the interaction didn’t stretch to pleasant, Ben was neither rude, or abrasive when dealing with the press query.
Unlike some other famous faces, Dunne was a model of decorum during the brief phone interaction.
Such was his character. He was perfectly aware of his failings.
There was no misplaced air of superiority.
Not for him a dubious spot on the moral high ground. Instead the unflappable Dunne was happy to accept when he got things wrong.
A great businessman, it is clear he wasn’t always a good man. But his embrace of his own foibles and peccadillos meant that people forgave him easily.
Because he didn’t portray a sense of entitlement to that forgiveness.
He seemed to be able to convey that he knew when it all comes down to it, we’re all just people.
When the time comes, as it did for Ben Dunne last week, it doesn’t matter if you’re in a five-star hotel – or a homeless hostel.
He will be buried this week, and his family rightly mourn his loss.
As a nation we should remember him best for his innate sense of decency, and his zest for life which saw him mire himself in scandal, yet somehow never lose the affection of the common person.
A man of great feats, and flaws. And who was comfortable living with both.
Grinches won’t get early good tidings
FESTIVE etiquette has become a minefield. While visiting my dentist this week I offered my brightest seasonal greetings enquiring if they were all set for the season of goodwill and all.
My best Christmas wishes caused both my dentist and dental nurse to be utterly aghast. They replied in unison: ‘Christmas? It’s only November.’
Now, given that I am not planning to see my dentist before the season of goodwill kicks off in earnest, I thought it perfectly acceptable to bestow my best wishes for December 25.
Given that the jingles are playing with gusto in shops, trees are up, lights are twinkling, I thought I wasn’t going too far out on a Christmas tree limb. But apparently not.
So before wishing others a Happy Christmas, from now on, I will do a quick once over for any subtle signs of grinchdom, or ‘Bah! Humbug!’ vibes – before passing on my greetings of the season.
Kielty’s Toy Show was a ray of light
IN that vein, this columnist’s humble opinion is that Patrick Kielty’s Toy Show debut was phenomenal for its sheer simplicity. Gone was the slick, over-produced stage-show, as Kilety and the team brought it right back to its basic best.
The theme of this year’s show was the Will Ferrell movie, Elf, and instead of demanding the spotlight, Kielty decided to let the little ones and their toys take centre stage.
And thankfully, there was less of the annual stage-school rictus grins, with the children looking more organically overjoyed to be part of the whole occasion.
After Thursday’s bleak awfulness Kielty’s Kris Kringle brought much needed twinkle into what was a very dark week.
‘Lunatics’ tag won’t make mob calmer
I WOULD not make a good garda. In fact, I freely admit I wouldn’t last five minutes on the beat. And I have the utmost respect for gardaí – except perhaps traffic cops.
But one need not have a degree in criminology to know that when trying to diffuse a potential explosive situation, like a riot, it’s best not to stoke the flames.
Garda Commissioner Drew Harris said: ‘We have a complete lunatic hooligan faction,’ when the possibility of a second night of rioting was still active.
In fact, as I write, there are still concerns that we might see more disorder breakout.
As such, calling the mob lunatics is an odd method of crowd control.
And it crucially lets those of us tasked with being guardians of the peace – which isn’t me of course – off the hook for not understanding what anybody with a social media account could quite clearly see was brewing on Thursday afternoon.
Quality Street says sorry – well, sort of
YOU may recall, dear reader, that a few weeks ago, I held the mighty confectionery conglomerate Nestlé to account for what I deduced were ‘chocolate inequalities’ in the Quality Street box.
So, I am delighted to announce that the pen is mightier than the sword. The people have spoken and Nestlé has listened.
Issuing an apology – of sorts – this week Nestlé said: ‘We balance our Quality Street selection by grouping the sweets into three categories that we know our consumers love: Fruits; Toffees and Fudge; and Nuts, Chocolates and Caramels, with each making up roughly one third of the total.
‘We know that Quality Street fans feel very passionately about their own particular favourites, so we ensure there is something for everyone within the mix.’ I must say, victory does taste sweet.