SKETCH:Outside the Assembly chamber dark questions were being whispered, while inside routine matters were dealt with
WELCOME TO the soap opera of Northern Ireland politics. It makes Eastenders look like a public service announcement.
All day at Stormont one kept meeting people who told one another, in tones of amazement: “You couldn’t make it up.”
Was this really dour, puritanical Ulster? Straitlaced, stolid “Norniron”? It used to be said that scandals at Westminster were always about sex, scandals at Leinster House always about money, but now Stormont has both.
The initial jokey reaction to the Iris Robinson affair with a 19-year-old has given way to humane concern over her mental health, amid reports that she is receiving acute psychiatric treatment.
Peter Robinson, despite his personal and political difficulties, proved he still has a card or two up his sleeve. His decision to stand aside as First Minister bought him time and was seen as a smart move.
Some are born great, others achieve greatness, but Arlene Foster had greatness thrust upon her as acting First Minister. Even the formidable Andrew Neil wanted to interview her yesterday for the BBC.
It’s heady stuff for a solicitor from Enniskillen, but Arlene is taking it in her stride and stressing that, like Cinderella after midnight, she goes back to just being Minister of Enterprise, Trade and Investment in six weeks’ time.
“Peter hasn’t gone away, you know,” Arlene told Andrew Neil, echoing the notorious comment on the IRA by Gerry Adams.
In fact, Peter hadn’t completely gone, because he was still involved in efforts to get agreement with Sinn Féin on police powers.
The devolution of policing and justice from London is not an issue that keeps any ordinary citizen in Northern Ireland awake at night, but it is a deal breaker for Sinn Féin, who could pull the whole house down if they don’t get their way.
The Northern parliament is also known as the House on the Hill and at the gift shop you can buy Stormont key-rings and fridge magnets. You can also buy a bar of Stormont fudge.
And fudge is exactly what the situation needs. Once again in Northern Ireland, the parties are having intensive talks on a critical issue.
But out of the Robinson debacle some good may come.
The alternative to a deal is early Assembly elections, hardly a prospect the scandal-hit Democratic Unionist Party can relish at the moment.
Yet despite the urgency of the situation, the atmosphere was curiously relaxed.
Assembly members queued quietly in the canteen for their chicken California and herb-crusted cod.
In the Assembly chamber, Sinn Féin Minister Michelle Gildernew was taking a question from David McNarry of the Ulster Unionists on the prawn industry in Portavogie.
Out in the Great Hall, the bronze statue of unionist icon Sir James Craig kept a watchful eye on the current crop of politicians from the top of the staircase. A chandelier once gifted to the British crown by Kaiser Wilhelm swayed from the ceiling.
But in quiet corners or down in the basement, everyone seemed to be having whispered conversations. Many unanswered questions still remain.
Why, for example, did whistleblower Selwyn Black go to the news media instead of the Stormont or Westminster authorities about his employer Iris Robinson’s financial activities? And what was the real situation inside the DUP? How long would they continue to back their leader?
Was Peter Robinson really just taking a break or was he gone for good? Would his deputy, Nigel Dodds, buy into a deal on policing? So much drama: eat your heart out, Coronation Street and Fair City.
Meanwhile, back in the chamber, Social Development Minister Margaret Ritchie was taking questions on the difficulties facing senior citizens in the cold weather. Finance Minister Sammy Wilson outlined spending cuts, just like his Southern counterpart Brian Lenihan. Could all this normality give way once more to madness?
