‘I am a Badass. I got this.’
Verona Murphy’s motivation app gave the best affirmations. One last glance in the mirror, shoulders back. The new Ceann Comhairle of the Dáil was ready for her first day on the bridge. They’d soon be flinging themselves at her feet. Thanking you, Micheal Lowry.
Waiting for her inside the packed Dáil Chamber was the new Government, all set for one of those big days they live for - Micheál Martin’s election as Taoiseach. Everyone was looking their best. Amid a sea of navy Norma Foley’s highlighter yellow blazer screamed a silent plea to hang on to the education portfolio. Over in the Áras, President Michael D. and Sabrina had the good silver ready and Misneach shooed out of the way.
The Audi was purring outside Leinster House while inside Micheál’s family had gathered in the public gallery to bear witness, a momentous day for both them and Fianna Fáil. The last time he was elected Taoiseach Covid denied him the pomp and ceremony he deserved. No one was going to rain on his parade today.
Dressed in all her finery, the Glam Comhairle finally swept into the Chamber like a seasoned pro. Fake it til you make it. They all stood and immediately tempted fate by praying for a happy ending to the day’s proceedings: “Direct, we beseech Thee, O Lord…something, something…happily ended, Amen.” Spoiler alert: God wasn’t listening. The day was RIGed from the start.
Murphy kicked things off by announcing that the members of the Regional Independent technical group (RIG) propping up the Government would be allowed sit with the Opposition and use their speaking time. For the day that was in it like. She’d decide later on whether to let them stay or banish them to break rocks on the Government backbenches.
It was then over to outgoing Government Chief Whip Hildegarde Naughton who then gave everyone a fortnight off. Neither announcement went down well.
For the first of many times that day, Murphy reached out for a big stick but only found a tiny bell gong.
Leader of Sinn Féin Mary-Lou McDonald jumped up first. The ‘two-week holiday’ was ‘astonishing’. Just get to work. And as for the RIG looking to sit on their side of the Chamber and take some of their precious speaking time? That took the biscuit altogether. Murphy had promised to be fair and independent and this was anything but. Not gonna wash.
There’d be no holiday til this speaking time mess was sorted out according to Labour’s Duncan Smith. He wanted it put on the record that it was just for the day. He also wanted to know when the Ceann Comhairle was going to make her decision on the RIG’s speaking time.
The fortnight break was ludicrous tutted the Social Democrats’ Gary Gannon. The RIG looking for Opposition speaking time was ‘unbecoming’ and undermined the tenets of democracy. It was like letting the people who designed the Government’s Programme for Government ‘correct their homework’. ‘Absolutely despicable,’ he spat.
A few rows behind him, the man at the centre of the imbroglio merely scribbled a few notes. Across the Chamber, Martin caught the first whiff of danger and shifted uneasily. Just a passing cloud on an otherwise glorious day of pomp and cermony.
Would anyone think of the children with scoliosis instead of taking a fortnight off, wailed Aontú’s Peadar Toibín, completely ignoring the speaking rights for the RIGs bru-ha. It took Social Democrats Deputy Leader Cian O’Callaghan to lean over and remind him that he was actually in the RIG himself.
It just about summed up the farcical start to the new Dáil for People Before Profit’s Richard Boyd-Barrett. The RIG had taken the art of speaking out of both sides of their mouths to a new and higher level. The writers of the Programme for Government pretending they’re in opposition. More stroke politics from FF/FG, he scoffed.
High above them in the top right corner of the Opposition benches, RIG Independent Deputies Marian Harkin and Michael Healy-Rae stared straight ahead, silent as owls.
Naughton then reminded them every party had ten minutes speaking time so if anyone wanted to (pointlessly) propose a Taoiseach they could do it within that timeframe. She hadn’t even sat back down again before SF’s Matt Carthy was on his feet. Why was FF/FG getting 15 minutes to speak and SF - who had one more TD than FG - was only getting ten? It was completely unfair and undemocratic.
A nettled Murphy told him to resume his seat. But Carthy kept going. For the first of many times that day, Murphy reached out for a big stick but only found a tiny bell gong.
Ding.
‘Depedy, resume your seat.’
Ding.
‘Depedy’.
Ding.
After the fifth ding Labour’s Alan Kelly jumped to his feet. Labour needed to know when Murphy would make her ‘huge, huge decision.’ Two years ago, they had laughed at the British parliament’s dysfunction. Let’s not make a show of Ireland now by having members of the Government sit in Opposition. ‘What a bloody farce,’ he thundered.
Putting the mock into democracy.
If Murphy could only have some decorum, she’d answer Gary Gannon’s request for her decision date on the RIG. She had started ‘a process’, invited submissions and assured the Opposition she would deal with it ‘expeditiously’. She just couldn’t say when exactly.
The Opposition erupted. Just give us a date, pleaded SF’s Louise O’Reilly. ‘It’s relatively simple, it shouldn’t be a big ask.’
No chance. Murphy hadn’t yet received ‘all’ the submissions so there was no reality to looking for a decision date before the process had even started. Who knew how long it would take to read them? (She’d eventually get one.)
There was a ‘massive conflict of interest’ here pointed out Independent Ireland’s Richard O’Donoghue, because the RIG had nominated Murphy herself as Ceann Comhairle. She should not take any further part. At this point, the Dáil clerk had jumped up beside Murphy for some urgent whisperings. Using him as a human shield against the ever-growing din, all she could do was keep belting the bell. O’Donoghue called on her to step aside and promptly got three dings for his troubles.
SF’s Pádraig Mac Lochlainn yelled for an urgent meeting of the Business Committee and the suspension of the Dáil. Michael Lowry a member of the Opposition? For God’s sake. They were putting the mock into democracy.
The clerk jumped back up to Murphy. More urgent whispering. Not sure if he was telling her who was who or how long she had left on her truck licence. Always good to have options.
Matt Carthy joined Mac Lochlainn on his feet. None of this was fair or impartial. All heads in the Opposition by now had swivelled up to glare at Lowry, who sat with steepled hands above them all. A patient grandfather watching his grandkids squabble over the remote. Nothing to do with me.
After battering the hell out of her bell, Murphy suspended the House for fifteen minutes. Across the chamber, five rows of the Coalition sat like a glum cinema audience. This was not the premiere they’d paid for. Micheál texted his man to cut the engine.
When the Dáil resumed, things only got worse for Murphy. SF Deputies Thomas Gould, Aonghus O’Snodaigh and PBP’s Paul Murphy took up the charge and were relentless. When could they get the legal advice she had received? Murphy tried ignoring them and called for the Taoiseach’s nomination but the braying got louder. They smelled submission.
‘Point of order. Point of order’ bellowed Gould in his deep baritone.
The dings got more vicious. Clearly nettled, Verona closed her eyes in frustration. Why had she said yes to this?
O’Reilly and Mac Lochlainn were on their feet now too.
‘Depedies resume your seats’ she tried. It was no good. Murphy had to suspend the Dáil a second time, this time for 30 minutes.
Jennifer Whitmore of the Social Democrats surfaced outside on the plinth to tell RTE’s Taoiseach Election Special that what RIG was trying to do was completely unacceptable and couldn’t be tolerated. Their approach was zero sum game.
Murphy resumed the Dáil for the third time and Naughten called on the party whips to meet to thrash out a ‘politically acceptable solution.’ They then agreed to adjourn for 45 minutes.
While that was happening, various TDs raced out to the plinth to let the punters know what was going on. The whole predictable mess was a red line issue, Alan Kelly told RTE. New ‘super’ junior Minister Michael Healy-Rae’s sense of chivalry was offended because it was “a lady” being shouted down by “shouting, roaring, screaming and mauling” TDs. Chivalry isn’t dead yet. “I don’t think that’s a good way to do business,” he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face.
The man himself came out for a word with the waiting media scrum. It was all Sinn Féin’s fault. Thankfully, they had agreed to kick the can down the road to the Reform Committee (where the Government has a majority and would most likely use it to allow RIG sit on the Opposition benches) Lowry explained reasonably. Was he a Government or Opposition TD? Lowry bolted back inside without answering.
Peadar Toibín then revealed Aontú had left the RIG because they finally found another political party kind enough to share their speaking time with them. Step forward Independent Ireland. And say what you like about Donald Trump, he didn’t need two weeks to ‘bed in’, unlike this new Government which prefers to work at a snail’s pace.
Verona felt under the desk for a panic button
Verona trudged back into the Dáil for the fourth time. By now she needed two strong ushers to help lift her chair in after she sat down. Her goal now was to get out alive.
Hildegard took the lead. All she had to do was acknowledge the Government’s cock-up of hubris and cunning. Strike a conciliatory tone. “Following a series of meetings of party whips today held to enable the democratic process of the house…” she began. But she soon couldn’t help herself. “…do what we were all elected to do here in Dáil Eireann”. The condescending schoolmarm tone was the last straw for her audience across the chamber. The murmurings of discontent started up again. “…all parties have agreed to allow the democratic process to proceed…it is my understanding…eh…that that is now in dispute?” she faltered.
The nomination of Taoiseach should proceed, she declared, abruptl
y sitting down to desperate applause from the Government. Maybe if they clapped loud enough they could drown out the Opposition.
There then followed a surreal scene: young Albert Dolan - the proudest moment of his three-month career – began his speech to nominate Micheál Martin while being simultaneously drowned out by Mary-Lou McDonald, Pearse Doherty and Pádraig Mac Lochlainn and soon, the entire Opposition.
Verona may well take her seat over with the Government if that’s the behaviour we’re going to see, roared Doherty, pointing over at the coalition. Shouts of ‘unbelieveable’, ‘not acceptable’ and ‘there was no agreement’ rang out non-stop.
Verona must have wondered how much she was being paid again. €255,513, per annum. Not nearly enough. She kept nodding at Dolan to continue his speech, out of the trenches into the line of fire. Brave young soldier of destiny he is, over he leapt, a willing lamb to the slaughter. “It is an honour to propose the name of Micheál Martin…Taoiseach…” he gamely shouted. But by now, a bun fight had broken out opposite.
On and on went the shouts, rising to a crescendo of “Outrageous!” “Lowry an Opposition TD?”
Verona wondered if it was OK to cry. She felt under the desk for a panic button. Far up above her, sat her predecessor Sean O’Fearghaile in the safe seats, studiously avoiding eye contact. It pained him to watch.
Labour leader Ivana Bacik, Ged Nash and Marie Sherlock had by now marched up to the door, ready to walk out in protest. But Verona beat them to it.
“I adjourn til tomorrow morning,” she cried, leaping up and fleeing the Chamber. As first days go, it wasn’t just bad. It was terrible.
Government TDs and leaders walked out after her in disbelief. The Opposition parties hung back and surrounded leaders Mary Lou and Ivana, loath to leave the scene of a rare victory. They hadn’t had so much fun in ages. The power of the powerless.
Over in the Phoenix Park, Michael D sighed, took off his coat and went out to feed the dog.