Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for September, 2011

It was only a matter of time, I suppose.  High office was always going to beckon.  Ever since I became captain of the Daisy Patrol in the Brigíní at the age of ten, I knew that the mantle of leadership and greatness would fall on my shoulders.  Then there was my stint as captain of the school debating team.  I excelled at wearing people down by arguing with them and then having them agree with me just for the sake of a bit of quiet.  So politics was a logical step.

Here are my qualifications to be our First Citizen.

First and foremost, I’m called Mary.  Like our first female president, I’m in fact a Mary Teresa.  That’s 50 per cent of my charm.  Now that Gabriel Mary Byrne has bowed out – insofar as he bowed in – that leaves only Mary Davis to see off and the job is mine.

Second, a respectful and cordial relationship with the Taoiseach is a must. I am well-qualified because the present incumbent actually fancies me something fierce.  Can’t keep his hands off me.   He’ll have to find some way to restrain his burning ardour when he comes to me to present his legislation (which I imagine will turn into a double entendre when I’m in office).  It’d be a tough one for me to tone down my obvious magnetism for him, but such are the burdens of high office.

Furthermore, I am very skilled in the area of etiquette and diplomacy.  I will have an affinity with other heads of state and will strike up a rapport with them with ease and fluency.  Not only that, but I am a subtle and astute observer of economic developments and will bring much wisdom and insight to this role at a time of great change for our society.

Other qualifications include my never having been in Dragon’s Den, the Eurovision or prison.  (Although the latter is an outside chance, I suppose.)  I’ve never been part of a political duo known as “The Chuckle Brothers.”  I have all my own hair.   I’ve never dressed up in Edwardian costume and eaten kidney on Bloomsday (or any other day).  I’ve never sung anything as musically abhorrent and oxymoronic as “Catholic MOR.”   I’m in favour of same-sex marriage (while having occasional reservations about the heterosexual kind, mostly my own).  I’ve never used the taxpayers money to lure Mel Gibson to Ireland.

A political resumé, I think you’ll agree, crackling with experience and, where necessary, non-experience.  I’ll be upfront, though, and that declare my own selfish interests are being served too.  I’d love to live in the Áras.  I’d love to wander around the gardens.  My own lawn is a kip and in need of re-seeding so it would be nice to bail of my house out until that’s done.  There are a few politicians I’d love to sack.  Not just a few, I’d say nine-tenths of them.  I’ll send in some functionaries to clear out their offices.  It’ll be all done with the sensitivity they deserve.  I’d imagine there’s some small under-appreciated clause in the Constitution about that.  And I’d love the Government jet.  That would really increase my commitment to spreading Ireland’s message abroad and reaching out to our diaspora.  As long as they lived in countries with pleasant climates.  And the Merc would be great.  It would be important for extending the hand of friendship and building bridges with communities around Ireland.  And I’d have people going round to Lidl to pick up the weekly specials for me in it, which would stimulate the economy.  Then there’d be the toadies and sycophants.  I’d really love some of those.  Most of all, at the rate things are going if I don’t get in the race soon, I’ll be the only person in Ireland not running for the Presidency.  And that would be socially awkward.  Before more people pile into the race, I’d like to warn you that an election result that consists of four million people each receiving one vote makes us seem needy.  That’s a very unattractive quality in a President. Another reason to vote for me.

So there you have it.  I’m in the race and have a fighting chance to be the next President of Ireland.  I’ll flesh out my policies in more detail, so that what seems insubstantial now will acquire a veneer of rigour that will distract everyone except Vincent Browne from the lack of substance.  And who watches Vincent Browne?  (Hang on a minute, I do)  I’ve got a campaign slogan that channels the optimism of Barack Obama with the media savvy of Simon Cowell – “Can we do it?  Who would spot if we couldn’t?”  Then there’s leaflets, posters and, my favourite part, wooing potential donors.  Followed by media appearances, kissing hands and shaking babies.

A lot done.  More to do.

Watch this space.  Or, as we used to say in the Brigíní – Bí Ollamh!

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: