5th May 2012
Yes, No or Maybe?
This latest treaty referendum is causin' its fair share of heated debate; thankfully I can sit back and watch.
So we have another referendum facin' us; the Fiscal Compact, no less. I'm one happy councillor that I don't have to go door-to-door sellin' this thing. I certainly do not envy my colleagues who have to face the people and convince them to self-administer a dose of Angela Merkel's cod-liver-oil.Some people would say that a man in my position should take a view on this treaty and give leadership, but you know as well as I do that the mention of county councillors and leadership in the same breath is akin to the inclusion of Silvio Berlusconi and chastity in the same sentence.
A councillor isn't the kind of fella you'd find at the Charge of the Light Brigade but you will find him at the unveilin' of memorials to the 'gallant dead;' there aren't many martyrs in council chambers.
As a local politician, when I can, I'll avoid puttin' my neck on the line and this is definitely the case when it comes to Frau Merkel's Fiscal Compact.
'Tis one thing havin' to tolerate an edict comin' down from on high, you can pretend it's somethin' you wouldn't touch with a disinfected stick, but to have to go on the stump and ask people to vote for the likes of this thing is as close to martyrdom as a local representative is likely to get.
Moll Gleeson, my councillor colleague of the FG variety is caught in this particular bind. She has obviously been ordered on to the frontline by her political superiors and is appearin' on the doorsteps full of bluff, bluster, leaflets jewellery and lipstick.
According to her, however bad the Fiscal Compact is, we are headed for the poorhouse entirely if we don't vote 'yes' on May 31.
Herself and Lily Mac had a full blown row in the Post Office the other day when she swanned in with her rosettes, her leaflets and her belief that only fools would be votin' against this thing.
"Moll Gleeson," says Lily, "are you expectin' us to vote 'yes' to this compact yoke that will see us scratchin' empty bellies for a generation?"
"For God's sake Lily Mac," says she, "you're an intelligent woman. If we don't pass this then who will pay for the roads, who will pay for our schools and who will pay the salaries of the public servants?"
"Who will pay the likes of you, that's what you mean," said Lily. "As far as I'm concerned 'twould be no harm if the politicians got a wallop of the reality we all have to deal with. Your kind might have to cut back on the caviar and the champagne but ye're a far cry from worryin' about where the next loaf of bread is comin' from."
"Well in that case, Lily Mac," says Moll, "don't come cryin' to me after you and your equals vote 'no' and in six months time you find yourself sittin' here in the dark, frozen to the bone with nothin' to do except look at the clock goin' round."
"And what's the alternative?" says Lily, "To be sittin' her in six months time deeper in debt and prayin' to St. Jude that the Troika is happy that our misery is miserable enough and our hunger deep enough. At least if we say 'no' our hunger will be our own and our misery will be our own, that might give us an incentive to do something about it."
"Misery and hunger aren't nice, no matter who's sufferin' them," said Moll, "a 'yes' vote will mean less of both in the long term."
"What you and your likes are worried about is that the steady flow of euros into your arse pockets will be cut off and your days of makin' big announcements about what ye're goin' to do with other people's money will be over. Ye'll just have to make do like the rest of us. Then we'll see how ye like it."
By the time the row was over the Post Office was full of people lookin' on in silence while the two formidable women tore into one another.
As Moll turned to leave she spotted Mick Regan in the queue. A long time FG supporter, she went straight over to him and grabbed him by the hand. "Mick, I presume a sensible man like you will be voting 'yes'," she said.
Mick took the full of his eyes of Moll as she stood there before him, dressed to kill and drippin' with jewellery, "Begod Moll," says he, "if you're an advertisement for German austerity then I think it's the kind of thing I'd vote for."
