State visits slip away as TDs return to sad state of our affairs

DÁIL SKETCH:CRISIS INTERRUPTUS. Now. Where were we? Noonan has the floor.

“We are beginning to move in the right direction . . . led by developments in the external sector . . . small open economy . . .” Oh, dear God.

Only a few deputies remain in the chamber, and most of them appear to have lapsed into a post bun-fight, recession-induced coma.The Minister launches into a thick script on the second stage of the Finance Bill. Quick! Somebody send for the Queen! Noonan’s already on the case.

“The success of the royal visit last week may also have economic benefits for trade with our nearest neighbour.”

Enda is smiling to himself. Lost in thought. His eyes are crinkled up, he’s beginning to tilt sideways and he can’t shift that smile. On the other hand, he might be asleep. In his dreams, he softly croons. Come home, Barack Obama, to Islandeady/Come home, Barack Obama to me . . .” Noonan is ploughing on.

“Despite the downturn, fundamental strength in the economy remains . . .” A happy sigh escapes the Taoiseach.

Ushers materialise on the top steps of the chamber with copies of the Minister for Finance’s speech. This spurs on those TDs still in possession of their faculties. They bolt for the doors, nearly mowing down the ushers in their rush to avoid them. What day is it? Darned if Inda knows.

Can there be such a thing as a giddy calm? If there is, it was the pervading feeling around Leinster House yesterday, as politicians recovered from the excitement of the last week.

Sinn Féin leader Gerry Adams sported a spiffing new haircut and beard trim to celebrate the return to normality and the end of all the talk about the Queen of England.

He must have been glad to get back to the humdrum. Nobody paid a blind bit of notice when he kept telling people the Queen had been to Northern Ireland on many occasions, so it wasn’t true to say it was the first visit of a British monarch to Ireland in 100 years.

And Barack Obama’s flying visit on Monday would only have served as a sad reminder of those halcyon peace process days when no White House soiree was complete without the attendance of Gerry or Martin McGuinness.

Mind you, Martin Ferris got a fit of the giggles when Shane, Earl of Ross and the barony of South Dublinshire (Ind) rose to congratulate the Taoiseach on “the immensely successful visits here by President Obama and the Queen of England and the re-establishment of very close links between friends”. The look on Deputy Ferris’s face said: “Speak for yourself, posh boy.”

Meanwhile, Fine Gael backbencher Bernard Durkan, who possesses a fine head of silver-grey hair, had his locks swept back yesterday in an impressive bouffant evoking that wonderful State banquet in Dublin Castle this night last week. We demand he wears a tiara to Leaders’ Questions, at least for today, to complete his homage.

Earl Ross of South Dublinshire wanted to know whether the Government intends to back French finance minister Christine Lagarde as leader of the IMF. Is this a wise move, considering her “aggressive” attitude to Ireland’s corporate tax regime? He conceded, following the Taoiseach’s reply, that Mme Lagarde may change her mind and not adhere to French government policy if she changes her job. “People often do that,” he said, pointedly. Enda pounced.

“You’re actually right about people changing their views when they change jobs . . . I recall on the 28th of March, 2004, now Deputy Ross said: ‘Michael Fingleton’s Irish Nationwide published a cracking set of figures.” The Taoiseach was on a roll. He had the chamber in fits. He glanced up, thrilled with himself, at the press gallery and went for the kill.

“And if you recall, you followed it by saying: ‘All Fingleton’s figures are spectacular! Pretax profits are up 20 per cent, and gross lending rose by 72 per cent. And you followed that by saying: I should have bought into Nationwide. Anyone with a spare 20 grand might still have time to carpet bag.” Deputies, including Shane Ross, fell about.

Pat Rabbitte looked like he might need oxygen. “Just a gentle reminder,” murmured Enda, smirking. And then Noonan had to go and spoil it all with his real life Finance Bill.

Heads dropped. Rabbitte fell into a deep reverie, smiling broadly, just like his Taoiseach. Dreaming of the triumph of last week, when they rubbed shoulders with Her Majesty, a little tune ringing in his head: They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace/Indakinny went down with Rabbitte/ ‘Do you think the Queen knows all about me?’/Sure dear but it’s time for tea/Said Rabbitte. They have to keep the momentum going. Keep the country full of can-do spirit.

We hear there was an emergency Cabinet meeting before the Dáil sitting.

Enda was full of ideas.

“Eamon. The Times They Are a-Changin’. Tell your hippy Labour pals to get me Bob Dylan. He’s 70 today, we could give him an official birthday party. And while I’m at it, get Bruce on the phone.” “Bruce, Taoiseach?” Yes. Bruce. The other Boss.”

Whereupon a breathless Leo Varadkar bursts into the Cabinet room. “Great news. Prince is coming to Malahide Castle in July!”