Seán gives us the skinny on keeping our TDs in order
THE old memory isn’t what it used to be. Because while I’m sure that Seán Barrett has notched up many great achievements during his lengthy parliamentary career, unfortunately I can’t for the life of me think of any of them at the moment.
I seem to recall a couple of unfortunate incidents when he was overseas for the official Paddy’s Day celebrations i n the mid-Nineties, though in fairness he didn’t appear to be at fault on either occasion. Apart from that, though, I am drawing a blank.
I don’t doubt that there must be something that distinguishes him from the nonentities that he is forced to share the Dáil chamber with. Could it perhaps be his striking physical dimensions?
Based on personal sightings, I’d be willing to risk a fiver with Ladbrokes that Mr Barrett is both the tallest and skinniest member of the Oireachtas in living memory. But my gut instinct is that his one-time boss, former Fine Gael leader Alan Dukes, probably beats him on both counts there.
What of his other notable characteristics? He is arguably the most tetchy individual to ever hold the position of Ceann Comhairle, even though there has been some stiff competition for that particular accolade down through the years.
Yet the main thing I’ll always associate with Mr Barrett is his determination to make sure that a dedicated Oireachtas television channel came into existence. It wasn’t his idea in the first place, but he seized it and proceeded to embark on some kind of personal crusade.
Whatever his rationale for that is anyone’s guess. I seem to recall the official explanation having something to do with fully opening up the workings of parliament to the average punter.
Fair enough, but I can’t figure out why Mr Barrett thinks the average punter wants to see him looking like he’s auditioning for the part of Widow Twankey in the Christmas panto on a 24/7 basis.
Besides, there are seldom more than three men and a dog in the chamber at any one time. And it is often hard to tell which is which, since some of them appear unaccustomed to standing on their hind legs.
Regardless, Oireachtas TV is now there for everyone to see. Every cough and spit that trips from our political masters’ mouths is recorded for posterity.
Funny thing is, though, that it’s only in the last 20-odd years that cameras were allowed into Leinster House at all. I can’t be the only who thinks it seems much, much longer.
Predictably, Seán Barrett turned up on this entertaining hour-long documentary looking characteristically pleased with himself.
There was also some highly amusing footage of former chair John O’Donoghue – resembling a redfaced cross between Mr Bumble and something out of a Restoration farce – going apoplectic as he tried to bring some order to the proceedings.
Interestingly this was seized upon by Bertie Ahern – another of the contributors – as he shared the benefit of his wisdom with those of us sitting at home. His appearance was cl early part of an ongoing campaign to reinvent himself as the grand old man of Irish politics.
Furrowing his brow on occasion, the former taoiseach assumed an air of bemused detachment as he threw in little jibes about former colleagues.
‘I think John had decided he was going to impose the rules and he was going to be very stern,’ he said of O’Donoghue’s stint in the hot seat. ‘You can win the argument, as he did in a few of those things, but it looks terrible.’ Perhaps it does. But it is also a bit rich for the same Bertie Ahern, who lied about the vast sums of money that passed through his sweaty palms, to point the finger at anyone else for doing something that ‘looks terrible’.