The city’s aldermen and councillors: resplendent, ready, primed for their solemn, septennial duty to protect us from scallywags and scoundrels seeking to squat in Phoenix Park.
Lists of killer questions clasped within fists clenched and trembling with constitutional power, alert postures poised to interrogate presidential pretenders, paying no heed to the photographers in the lobby, or national news reporters making rare forays to City Hall… the sense of occasion, was… almost… overwhelming…
Except, no one had turned up.
And a few minutes after the four o’clock kick-off, politicians were beginning to sound pissed off.
“No one is here!” cried Frank Fahy (FG ) to nods of eager disgruntlement.
“We are to be treated with respect,” agreed His Highness, Donal Lyons (Ind ), Ard Rí na Knocknacara, who proposed the meeting should be delayed by half an hour, seconded by Eddie Hoare (FG ), who could barely conceal his excitement that something momentous might still occur within the next 30 minutes, like being able to go home early from school.
Councillor Níall McNelis (Lab ), never one to miss the main chance, gave an oration on the importance of being on time for job interviews as a matter of profound principle, and not – of course – for the benefit of the assembled hacks, who were fast realising they may have acres of pages to fill on a meeting swiftly descending into farce.
“Let’s not get too excited now,” warned Mayor Mike Cubbard (Ind ), before McNelis got carried away. He fiddled with his chain of office – not normally sported at city council meetings – like a man who just realised he got dressed up for nothing.
“Maybe someone should check the carpark?” suggested Councillor Helen Ogbu (Lab ). “Well. If they’re using the new app, they might be there for two weeks downloading it,” quipped Councillor John McDonagh (Lab ) to laughter, quickly suppressed by the mayor, as the presence of out-of-town newspapermen was noted.
At 4.20pm, the door to the chamber swung open.
An instant hush fell as a swaggering man, dressed in black, with a black hood pulled tight over his head, sauntered in. Eyes dilated. Pens poised. Councillors’ necks, renowned for resilience akin to equine enthusiasts’ nether regions, nearly twisted off with the swivelling. Had disgraced whiskey salesman Conor McGregor decided to attend after all?
“There’s our candidate here now!” roared Hoare, delighted, as Councillor Alan Cheevers (FF ) slipped off his dark hoodie.
The Fianna Fáil man clearly hadn’t got the memo from his party colleagues, who last week attempted to cancel this presidential convocation, and had not turned up in person today. Hoare calmed down after someone presumably reminded him that Fine Gaelers were being whipped to oppose all-comers, unless their name was Heather.
Aspiring candidate Diarmuid Mulcahy arrived.
The Kerryman, who lives in Barna, made it just before Mayor Cubbard closed down the circus. In his five-minute slot, he listed his long and impressive CV, and answered excellent questions from the assembled councillors adroitly.
In a damning-with-faint-praise kind of way, Lyons said he was surprised and disappointed how someone with such experience in public affairs, from finance to farming to fisheries, could live so close to him, without the two men ever crossing paths in 40 years.
“Howarya Diarmuid?” was Lyons’ constituency rival, Councilllor McNelis’, cheeky retort.
Candidates Nick Delehanty and Keith McGrory landed into City Hall. Both looked rushed. Rumours immediately swept the Press benches that one, or both, had gone to County Hall by mistake.
Former senator Fidelma Healy Eames, present in the chamber, began taking notes. Swatting up for a presidential tilt herself in seven years perhaps? “I’m just here to watch democracy in action,” she told the Galway Advertiser, presidentially.
Delehanty, aged 35, so only just eligible for the presidency, gave a polished performance for his five-minute stump.
He answered difficult questions from councillors well, until Hoare – who had clearly done his homework – asked him about his views on the Danish model of immigration.
Delehanty stumbled into an explanation on how comments he had made elsewhere about how some classes of immigrants should have all personal property worth more than €1,500 confiscated, had been taken out of context. The room was lost, although several councillors urged him to keep at the aul’ politics.
Keith McGrory was not on the seven-strong list of candidates to address Galway city’s councillors on ‘Super Monday’, but Mayor Cubbard gave him the mic.
The Donegal builder and inventor explained his fascinating life story and business successes during his five minutes, including ideas how to solve the housing crisis “with rectangles and triangles,” but he struggled to answer precise questions from councillors on how he would conduct his presidency within Constitutional confines. A number of councillors urged him to forget about the Áras, and bring his ideas to the Minister for Housing instead.
After a short tea and bun break, no councillor proposed a nomination on their return to the chamber, so Galway City Council will not facilitate anyone to ink their name on the 2025 presidential ballot.
The quality of questioning all councillors displayed, especially Councillor Terry O’Flaherty (Ind ), who was prepared to politely grill anyone, was impressive. It would have been interesting to see how they dealt with the full list of absent applicants – some of whom sent their apologies during the meeting, according to Mayor Cubbard.
There is debate that local authority members are undemocratic obstacles to those aspiring for the presidency, especially non-party hopefuls unable to command signatures from 20 Oireachtas members.
But the counter argument is that they act as constitutional guardians, using their combined mandates to weed out unready candidates, so that debates and the ballot remain uncluttered by unsuitable distractions.
Ultimately, the people will decide, on October 24.
Irish citizens may register to vote until October 7. See www.checktheregister.ie This article is funded by Comisiún na Meán under its Local Democracy scheme.
