FURTHERMORE
By Gerry Moran
Make no mistake, politics is a mugs game. And if you don’t believe me take one look at all those mugs, as in mugshots, staring at us from every pole in every parish in the city and county.
And may I say, lest anyone think I’m being sarcastic, lads, and lassies (and it’s great to see more women running for election) ye look great. The best part of an election for me is not listening to tedious arguments, debates, manifestos and long-winded proclamations about policies; the part I like best is looking at those posters. Studying them in fact. Love looking into the candidates’ eyes (the windows of the soul, they say) to see if they have any. Souls, that is.
And I guess they’re all well-meaning, decent souls but you’d wonder at times. And what all these politicians have in common regardless of their differing policies – they all have good, if not great, photographers in their camps. But then they need them, damn it they’re not all photogenic (not that yours truly is – take a look at my mugshot, don’t think I’d be hanging that on a pole if I were running for election). Not that I want to run although now that I think about it, and I may have mentioned this before – I was approached by a political party many, many moons ago. So, I had my chance to plank my mugshot on a pole but didn‘t take it.
And suddenly a thought – was there not talk some years back of banning political posters? Or am I imagining that?
In the meantime, as I drive along the Ring Road festooned with posters I am reminded of the Long Gallery in Kilkenny Castle where the hallowed portraits of the once powerful, and famous, look down their noses at us ordinary mortals. Ah, they’re not looking down their noses; its’s just the way they’re positioned high up on the wall, nor am I suggesting that our political hopefuls are looking down their noses at us. God no. They all seem to be staring straight ahead with a look of friendly confidence and determination on their faces (a tricky look to get right) as if to say – get me into the Dáil toute de suite where I’ll help build houses and bicycle sheds to beat the band.
And then there was the great debate on the telly. I turned on. Tuned in. And turned off! Couldn’t hack it. Too many politicians (I counted 10). Too many voices. Too much sniping. Too much disagreement. And then a thought – if two heads are better than one, surely 10 heads would be better still! So, why don’t they all come together and form one mighty mega party? A united government! History for sure.
Then again if too many cooks spoil the broth I guess too many politicians would leave us with too much mouthy froth.
Finally, a politician, running in the General Election, was outraged about remarks made about him in the local paper. Incensed, he rang the Editor and roared down the phone: “You’re printing lies about me, and you know it.”
“Relax, relax,” the Editor said calmly. “What in God’s name would you do if we told the truth about you?”
