Hunting for job in Áras? Now that’s a blood sport!
MAYBE it is the after-effects of the sun. Much to my surprise, I’m actually beginning to look forward to the race for the Áras.
It goes without saying that I haven’t changed my mind about the Presidency being an absolutely ridiculous role. But my gut feeling is that we are in for a particularly entertaining and enjoyable contest on this occasion.
By rights, of course, I should be dreading the whole thing. Last time around I spent far too much time traipsing around on the campaign trail with the likes of Gay Mitchell, Mary Davis and other contenders whose names escape me at the moment.
Granted, I fully accept that reporting on the trials and tribulations of a presidential election is hardly the most taxing of jobs. We’re not exactly talking about doing a 14hour shift in the salt mines. Even though it had been almost a decade and a half since the last campaign, however, the novelty wore off quickly enough.
Perhaps the lowest point came when I found myself at a public appearance that Sean Gallagher made at a retro confectionery shop on the southern fringes of Temple Bar. Shamelessly hamming it up for the cameras, he sipped a milkshake as he stood behind the counter surrounded by the pick-and-mix sweet selections. ‘This is the softer side of Sean that you’re seeing now,’ he told the ladies and gentlemen of the press.
Frankly, the prospect of having to endure that sort of hokum again isn’t hugely appealing. But I will be taking consolation from the fact that presidential elections bring out the worst in everybody. No-one abides by the Queensberry Rules. Now that we have the makings of a rather diverse line-up, it is all about to get very interesting. Trust me when I say that this won’t be pretty. The hot favourite will, of course, be Michael D Higgins. But he faces a robust challenge from the yet-to-beannounced Sinn Féin candidate. Meanwhile, Independent senator Joan Freeman is hoping to run on a traditionalist Catholic ticket.
Yet the one who really fascinates me is Gavin Duffy, the businessman and Dragons’ Den judge. There is still at least two months to go until the campaign kicks off and already he is in the wars.
Given that his comb-over makes him look like a cross between Bobby Charlton and Rab C Nesbitt, I’d always had my doubts about Gavin’s level of self-awareness. But he has played his cards very badly indeed in recent days, especially for a man who has spent most of his working life in the media business.
There is an old maxim in public life: when you’re explaining, you’re losing. I’m not sure whether Gavin Duffy realised that he would have to defend his involvement with the hunting movement, but he has made a very bad job of doing so.
Whether the Ward Union Hunt is ‘not a blood sport’, as he claims, is almost irrelevant in some respects. He clearly misses the point that the vast majority of ordinary voters would still see the hunt and its members as being highly objectionable, rightly or wrongly. We’re talking realpolitik here.
Worse still, however, was his blunt statement that he intends on trousering the annual €325,507 pay packet in its entirety – unlike President Higgins, who took a voluntary cut of more than €75,000. ‘I would take the full salary in order to recoup the expenditure required for a campaign,’ sniffed Mr Duffy. ‘I wouldn’t be spending a million, but you would not be spending far short of it.’
Run that one past me again. I don’t recall anyone getting down on bended knee asking him to seek a nomination in the first place. Besides, it clearly hasn’t dawned on him that spending a sum of almost seven figures on a vanity project won’t play well with the average punter.
Who exactly does he think he is? The sense of entitlement is little short of breathtaking.
By comparison, Michael D looks like a model of humility.
That said, I genuinely hope that Gavin Duffy gets his chance for a tilt at the Presidency. If he does, it will make for a fascinating campaign. He will also learn what blood sports are really like.