We might as well have a laugh with the Presidential race

Date Published: {J}

We might as well have a laugh with the Presidential race By conservative estimates, we owe the rest of the world – or at least the infamous troika – a couple of hundred billion euro. But at the same time, we now have more wannabe Presidents that you could shake a big stick at. So here’s an idea – why not get the latter to pay a chunk off the former and have a bit of craic for good measure?

Now that Gaybo has decided that he’s not the people’s choice after all – he probably realised that a ‘listeners poll’ carried out by 4FM isn’t the weather wave of public opinion that the staff might think it is – by process of elimination, it’s surely only a matter of time before Ronan Keating fulfils his long-cherished dream of being our man in the Arás.

In this ‘in again, out again’ Lannigan’s Ball of a campaign we had indications of interest from a chat show presenter, a Joycean senator, a man famous for being on Dragon’s Den, our first Eurovision winner and a Mulqueen man from Clare whose main advantage is that half of his surname is Queen and that gives a nice synergy to the office of President.

There are serious candidates in the midst of the mayhem as well, but Michael D Higgins and Gay Mitchell must be tearing their hair out – or what’s left of it – as every day the options grow more bizarre. And in an effort to somehow find someone from outside the world of politics, half the country suddenly seems to fancy a seven year stint in the Phoenix Park.

Incidentally, those who argue that Ireland is behind the door on gay rights cannot be paying attention; we’ve had a Gay Byrne and a gay senator in and out, so to speak, but Fine Gael has ensured there’s still one Gay left in the village – who’d have known there was such variety?

But now’s the time to get serious and turn all of this election lunacy into opportunity – we should have a talent show, the prize for which would be a nomination for the big house and a chance to run against the big boys. And we could charge a premium phone rate for the public to make their choice.

It could be an amalgam of all the shows we’ve seen before – a little bit All-Ireland Talent Show, a little bit Celebrity Bainisteoir, a slice of ICA Boot Camp and even a new run for Where in the World, given that the winner would need to know their geography for the seven years that may follow.

One week they could be asked to sing a song or do a little dance, so that we could send them to the White House for Paddy’s Day; another week we could have a smiling competition or a shaking hands marathon to test their real mettle.

We should make sure they know their Irish history with a quiz, and given that Mary McAleese got rid of most of the staff at the Arás, we need to know they can cook and clean this big house – hence those stern ICA women to ensure they’re up to the task.

The serious part of this is that we all know politics has a bad name but that shouldn’t mean we have a campaign that suggests it’s for anyone but politicians; Michael D, for example, is a man of the highest integrity and substance, but he’s been overran by former TV personalities who are being plucked out of thin air.

At least Uncle Gaybo proved he had a few of his marbles still intact by withdrawing – probably after the Sunday papers sharpened their teeth to gobble him up.

Fianna Fáil had attached itself to the housewives’ choice last week faster than a magnet to a fridge, but then again this is a party which would see the addition of Attila the Hun to its ranks as a step-up in popularity after its last election debacle.

Gaybo was a great presenter in his day, but by any stretch he’s quite a prickly man who – by his own admission last week – has no interest in touring Ireland on a bus and shaking hands in pursuit of votes.

But Gaybo, politicians call that canvassing – and Presidents call it meeting the people. Gaybo really only wants to go to film premieres and opening nights with Kathleen; he didn’t want to have to spend his Sundays opening community centres and eating buns at garden fetes.

And as Fintan O’Toole so succinctly summed it up last week, people were voting for Gaybo the radio persona – who is as different from the ferociously private Gabriel Mary Byrne as chalk is from cheese.

I have a feeling in my water that there’s another rabbit to be pulled from a hat yet­ – despite her earlier denials, just wait until the cry goes up for Miriam O’Callaghan and watch what happens. She dismissed it months ago, but that was before Uncle Gaybo came over all statesmanlike. And the closer to the deadline for nominations, the more tempting the proposition because the campaigning will be minimal and the recognition and likeability factors will both be a given.

She may well face a challenge from that other Mary Byrne – if she wins our Presidential X-Factor – or perhaps we’ll do a job share among 10 breakdancers from some inner city Dublin flat complex.

In truth we can only hope that there are a few issues of substance to debate along the way, instead of a media that spends its time playing Fantasy President for the gaiety of the nation – if you pardon the pun – through to the end of the silly season.

At the end of the day, as the presence of real candidates like Michael D Higgins and Gay Mitchell prove, the Presidency isn’t some prize that should be touted around to the most famous celebrity who shrugs an interest; it is the highest office in the land and cannot be decided on the back of a poll on 4FM or, God forbid, the Sunday Independent.

So let’s stop plucking names out of thin air and get serious – if we’re not careful Ronan Keating will sneak in that unbeknownst to us, and we’ll never be able to get him out.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.