SKETCH:A FEW dancing lights in the night sky and it's a big deal in Donegal.
Yet, since the formation of the Government last year, a natural phenomenon of mind-numbing intensity has been occurring every Thursday morning in the Dáil chamber.
Clashing reds and blues and greens, glowing with such fierce luminosity that those who witness them have been known to fall into a deep, trancelike state which the experts call “sleep”. This happens when highly charged particles of deputy leaders collide briefly to produce a display of such energy that it forces people to go for a late breakfast.
The Aurora Boringawlus.
Mesmerising.
It takes place when the party leaders are away and the wind of Gilmore meets an Ó Cuív outrage in perfect alignment with a rising Mary Lou and flaming Higgins.
Astronomically tedious, as a rule.
But yesterday, the display of the deputy leaders was skewed by an outbreak of pollution, adding a thrilling element to the weekly performance of stupendous torpor.
This was unfortunate, because the Ceann Comhairle was away and his long-suffering deputy, Michael Kitt, was in the chair.
The Aurora Boringawlus was in full swing as Eamon Gilmore and Éamon Ó Cuív droned on about the Personal Insolvency Bill, the Tánaiste sending happy little flares into the atmosphere about the positive aspects of the legislation.
“It is a good day for this country, that for the first time we now have hope for families and households in that they can see a way to working themselves out of their personal debt circumstances,” he declared.
“Interestingly, this comes on a day when, as a country, we have seen the first signs of hope regarding our re-entry to the markets with the bond exchange yesterday . . . This is a very positive development.”
He thanked Deputy Ó Cuív for his welcome, albeit a little grudging, of the move.
So far, so wonderful.
The handful of deputies and journalists in the chamber snoozed in rapt attention while the canteen did its usual roaring trade in porridge and the Full Irish. Then Mary Lou, deputy for Dublin Central, rose to her feet, most likely to bat for the debt- ridden ordinary working person having to toil under the bank man’s burden.
Instead, she emitted an unexpected solar flare and began talking about septic tanks.
Squawks went up from the bottom left-hand corner: Mattie McGrath was limbering up.
The Leas Cheann Chomhairle’s shoulders dropped. He could see Éamon Ó Cuív sitting to his right, and to the left of him, Mattie.
The pair have sent poor Michael into orbit on more than one occasion in the past fortnight with their septic tank explosions.
Mary Lou, on behalf of the septic tank owners of Cabra and further afield, said the Government was putting through its regulations without indicating whether grant aid would be available to those who might have to replace tanks, or issuing guidelines about the standards for complying with the new law.
The Tánaiste sulked.
Why didn’t she “have the good grace” to compliment him on the Insolvency Bill, the way Deputy Ó Cuív had done? Then, as he proceeded not to answer, Mattie McGrath produced a little woven basket from beneath his desk and danced out into the middle of the chamber, waving it at the Opposition. “Look, I have a fiver in it.” And he indeed did.
It was his response to jibes about attempts to establish a septic tank fighting fund at a meeting he attended in Newcastle West.
“Clown,” snorted Brendan Howlin.
“There’s no circus without a clown,” drawled Michael Noonan.
Pat Rabbitte was laughing so much he couldn’t speak.
After his little stunt, Mattie returned to his seat, placing the basket on Éamon Ó Cuív’s desk. Young Dev recoiled, as if the TD for Tipperary South had just placed a dead rat in his lap.
After a quick word from the clerk of the Dáil, Michael Kitt pronounced: “I want no more of this farce now. This is a proper disgrace!”
Mary Lou kept her composure. It was no laughing matter, she sniffed. Her colleague Martin Ferris waded in noisily and got thrown out. He swaggered to the door, smiling. Job accomplished for the local radio and papers.
Joe Higgins attempted to set the House aflame over job creation, but he was eclipsed by the septic tank show.
It continued when the Minister for the Environment arrived to debate the Water Services Bill and annoy the septic tank lobby.
Éamon Ó Cuív gathered up his papers and walked out. Phil Hogan wasn’t bothered. “Kilkenny people don’t walk off the pitch.”
Two minutes later, to Opposition jeers, Ó Cuív returned. The Bill was passed and now goes to the Seanad. And that saw the end of the best Aurora Boringawlus we’ve seen for many a Thursday.
