Ya said wha’ Gay?

by planetparker

I know that we’re in the Silly Season but the idea of putting up Gay Byrne for president is just pushing the joke too far, For a start he’s passed it. I hear people bristling with indignation and the murmur of “ageism” coming from their skinny lips. I believe that the term refers to the incorrect belief that an older person cannot do the job of a younger person, or at least not with the speed or ability of a younger person. It is therefore wicked and immoral to say that a man or a woman of 60 or 70 cannot carry out the same tasks as someone aged 20, What is the requisite skillset of a president? Cutting ribbons, unveiling plaques and signing your name to legislation. As for sending it to the Supreme Court if it is “repugnant to the constitution” fuck that; it’s a waste of time as they always give it the thumbs up unless it’s about something like employment rights for cripples.  True there are also official visits to places like Kazakhstant but that’s not obligatory. You may also have to accept the credentials of ambassadors but that just takes a shake of the hand so there’s no hassle. These are tasks that could be carried out by a three- or four-year old child, as well as someone aged a hubndred-and-seven.

 You need balls to be President?

The framers of our constitution, in their urge to re-create a system as close to that of England as possible, did not want to imbue the office with any powers. In fact, they ensured that the holder of the presidency would be politically castrated. It might be said that old people are time’s eunuch, castrated by its unstoppable flow (Who said that? er me actually), so an older person fits the bill. The constitution stipulates that the president must be 35 or older and such a clause has long existed in the United States, which has a real executive president and not a wimp as head of state. Sadly there is no upper age limit.

Sin a Fianna Fail

Fianna Fail support for Gaybo is reasonable as they understand the essential impotence of the office. An old person, perhaps growing in infirmity, is castrated by time.  They may be able to rise to the occasion if their pension allows frequent access to the little blue tablets but otherwise they’re fucked – metaphorically. As a result the FFers have always seen the office as a comfortable and gilded old folks’ home, to be given as a reward to elevated party members as a reward for their service, or as a compensation payment for being shafted.

The roll of (dis)honour

• Sean O Ceallaigh had every reason to expect that he would be named Minister for External Affairs by De Valera, but Dev kept the job and the kudos for himself throughout “The Emergency”, The pay-off came in 1945 when he was nominated for and elected president.
• When he had served his two terms, what better way was there to reward the 77-year-old long fella than with the presidency?
•  At the expiration of his term the presidency was thought a fittingly harmless role for the intellectually far too well-equipped Erskine Childers Jr. Poor Dr Childers was not a well man.
• On his untimely departure from life’s stage he was succeeded by the learned Cearbhall O Dalaigh without an election. President O Dalaigh withstood the petty restrictions of the office, as well as the insults of the political cornerboys of the Fine Gael / Labour coalition until the publican of Monasterboice in a moment of sherry-trifle inspired tiredness and emotion called him a “thundering disgrace”, and he resigned.
• The coalition, reading correctly that its days were numbered, did not oppose the nomination of Dr Patrick Hillery by Fianna Fail, who was thus being rewarded for his services to the party by a sentence of fourteen years in Aras an Uachtaran from which he was lucky to come out alive.

 The worm turns

 In 1990 Fianna Fail attempted the old strategy by nominating the visibly frail Brian Lenihan Sr. as presidential candidate. By this time Ireland had grown up and realised the Soldiers of Destiny’s cynical ploy. And now they’re at it again. At the Magill Summer School Micheal Martin tried to present himself as a forward-looking politician who had realised that the Irish people had meted out a just and long-deserved punishment on his party. By courting the likes of Gay Byrne as a candidate he shows that this was all bullshit and that he is deeply dded to the Fianna Fail past.

Name recognition

Apart from Gay Byrne’s age, there is also the fact that Fianna Fail has been rattled by the candidacy of my friend and fellow Cavanman Sean Gallagher who has gained public recognition through his appearance on the Dragon’s Den programme. The simpleton from Connemara, Eamon [O] Cuiv is not liked by the electorate – I wonder why? – so they needed someone with name recognition, but Gaybo is yesterday’s man. Gay Byrne has gone down in my estimation by even giving them the time of day, and all his assurances about his campaign being “autonomous” are about as sincere as a debutante’s commitment to her virginity.

 If Gay says no…

 ll is not lost for Fianna Fail if Gay refuses to play ball. I am assured that there are plenty of other broadcasting hasbeens out there who would jump at the chance to come out of senility for one last gig with the added bonus of a plushy pad and, let’s not forget it, the state funeral, so  Tom Carter could stick his funeral expenses policy and the charming carriage clock up his arse. Names that come to mind are:

• Bunny Carr who charmed generations of Irish people with his quiz show for the intellectually bollixed Quicksilver and who then serenaded those same folk into a calm state before they popped their clogs along with Anne O’Dwyer in everyone’s favourite Going Off; How about
•  Sonny Knowles? (age 78). He can’t sing any more (could he ever?) but he’d be able to take on most presidential tasks with ,, er … aplomb? 
  Q. What is thirty feet long, has ten teeth and reeks of piss?
  A. The front row at a Sonny Knowles concert. 
  How about
•  Sean og O Ceallachain (age 88 – now we’re cookin’ baby); all the right cred with the Gah. a familiar voice associated with tranquillity on a Sunday night before the rigours of the week began afresh…  I’ve got it
• Liam O fuckin’ Murchu (age 82), Bualladh bas agus pog mo hol agus … suck me dick etc.
• Arthur Murphy (age 80 ish?) who must find life really sucks since they pulled Mailbox on RTE and he no longer had to read out badly spelled missives from irate clerico-fascists from sheets smeared with semen,
• Donncha O Dulaing (age anyone, must be hitting 80). Very fir for his age. Who can forget his memorable walks in the footseps of O’Sullivan Beare or Eamon De Valera? What’s more, he’s politically safe
• Brendan Balfe (age 65, not really old enough). According to contacts he’s really pissed off since he got the elbow from RTE. What’s more, he doesn’t seem to have a pension either.
• Andy O’Mahony. Remember programmes like Dialogue? He’d be just the man in our troubled times. We’d forget we were up shit creek because he’d put us all to sleep.
• Hal Roach (age 83). Swallow me I’ll be right behind you but … er…no.

Other names crying out to go forward are

• Podge and Rodge, or their alter ego Fester and Alien
• Dustin the Turkey
• Bosco

Don’t be silly I hear you scowl, they’re puppets. So? That’s exactly what the president is.

One final name that springs into the fetid sewers of my memory is

• Liam Nolan. I recall with nostalgia how, as an undergraduate in Trinity I used to listen to a then pirate radio station in Dublin. First would come Fr Michael Cleary who would give it between the eyes to all the shifty lefties and liberals, and then would give it between the legs to his housekeeper. I recall with fondness his attempts to spur his listeners to go to Knock on pilgrimages. “It’d be a great day out on the train. Ya could go with a flask o’ tea and a couple o’ sanbos, an’ after ya’d done with the prayin’ ya’d be back in De Citty before nightfall.”I recall how he was once telephoned by a distraught parent asking for assistance in tracking down her son’s skate bird. The next morning I met my friend Marc coming out of the Common Room. “I say Marc. A chap has lost his skate board and I was wondering where he might start searching.” “I’m awfully sorry old man but I haven’t the foggiest” he replied. Father Cleary  was followed by Liam Nolan with his mix of “easy listenin’” including Dianna Durban’s Greatest Hits such as “It’s foolish but it’s fun”. He would read from correspondence and it seemed to me that, while those listening to Fr Cleary had real-life problems, those who listened to Liam Nolan had fought the good fight and failed, after which they’d gone into homes for the bewildered. Ni fhecfimid a laethaid ann aris go dteo

Now if that far right birdbrain Dana Rosemary Scallon is thinking of runnng again, what is there to stop Johnny Logan (who won Eurovision one time more than Dana, back when it was worth winning) or Charlie McGettigan?

But honestly, Gay Byrne for President? Stop the shaggin’ lights Bunny.