“They think it’s all over?”

This time next week, it will all be over for another year. Depending on when you are reading my wee column, there will be 5, 4 or 3 sleeps left, until that big man, dressed in his Coca Cola red costume, drops down the chimney to deliver your presents. That’s assuming you have made it on to his “Nice list!”

There will be more than a few people on Waterford’s “Naughty list” and we hope that Santa deals with them appropriately!

Like so many others, I’ve written to Santa. I let him know about the dozens of promises made to us and how, time after time, we have been repeatedly let down. So many have guaranteed, well almost, to bring X, Y and Z, as well as A, B and C to the Déise. Yet we never seem to get the very presents that we deserve. It is like we are little Tiny Tim, from Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” and the Government is Scrooge. We just need someone brave enough to show the party in power, those three life changing ghosts. Alas, I fear that it will take a few more Christmases to get our Scrooge to change his mind.

Anyway, I am sure that a week from now, we will all be deciding just what to do, with our three day old leftover turkey and ham. We’ve had copious quantities of sandwiches, with the two fillings and despite handing out mountains of these to our visitors, there is still enough left, for one more dish. What if we make a curry or a stew? Maybe the easier option would be soup? Or better still, the brown bin’s mouth is calling, ready to swallow all things leftover. So the bin it is, as we have to move on to thoughts of how to cook and prepare the ham, for New Year’s Day.

It’s a time to get together and share in the joy of giving. Put a wee bit of thought into those presents for loved ones. Vouchers are fine for birthdays and anniversaries, but from Santa? Nothing says I’ve thought of you more than the small token present that will mean so much to your nearest and dearest. When you get it right, their reaction says it all.

I’ll share a Christmas past with you. Men tend to be very, very, very, practical when it comes to presents. That’s the way our minds are hard wired and programmed. It goes back to the days of us being the hunter gatherers. We just can’t help it, so ladies, cut us a wee bit of slack.

With this in mind, I once wrapped and delivered to Mrs Garland, a lovely wood affect mahogany toilet seat, a set of stainless steel mixing bowls (which are still in use), an electric tooth brush (now long gone) and a plethora of other wonderfully, sensible (in my eyes), no-nonsense gifts. I had put an awful lot of thought into my shopping that year.

Did I get any credit for this? No! As the saying goes in the North East of Scotland, “It was just one sheep!”, you can work out the rest yourself. Tainted for the rest of my life, I am afraid! Lesson learned.

At Christmas time, I would advocate that the males of the species, never ever provide your wonderful other halves with the Jigsaw (the electric type for wood cutting). A vacuum cleaner (of any make), a combined microwave oven, a blender or, God forbid, a Slendertone....what is that suggesting!?!? It may well be the season to be jolly, but it is not the season, time or place to be giving sensible gifts.

 

2017 will soon be leaving us. We can start looking forward to the New Year and what 2018 might bring Waterford.

Can we really look forward to better times ahead? I do hope so. Unfortunately, those who rub the magic lamp, to loosen Exchequer funds, don’t have Waterford on their Christmas card list. Unwilling to spend the €1 on a stamped card, wishing us some much needed, festive cheer.

May I sincerely wish you, a Merry Christmas and a Happy Hogmanay, when it arrives.

“Tis the season to be jolly?”

Whilst out and about over the last weekend, I was stopped on several occasions to be asked about the mess that is Brexit. I suppose, being so vocal on the politics of Ireland, makes me an ideal person, to stop and quiz, when it comes to all things governmental in the UK, GB and of course Scotland. Unfortunately it does appear that the political glitterati, on both side of the Irish Sea, are crafted from a very similar gene pool.

On Sunday last, due to frost and snow my unicycle stayed snugly wrapped under the duvet. I therefore had time to watch David Davis MP (The Tory baddie) squirming on Andrew Marr’s BBC show. He was asked probing question, after probing question on the lies spouted by the leave side, during the Brexit referendum. Like all well schooled representatives, he wiggled out of answering any direct question with a straight answer. Time and time again he was fudging the reply and deflected nearly all of the arrows being shot at him. According to the UK Government, Westminster is still in the driving seat at the negotiating table and they are sailing the “Good Ship Lollipop” in the right direction.

What about that £40-£50 billion (some say £100 billion) divorce settlement? A separation that wasn’t going to cost a single penny? It would be “No deal”, if there was any hint that the EU were going to force through a bad deal. Does the rhetoric sound familiar?

As they say “A week is a long time in politics”.

Scroll back a few more days. There was a deal on the cards and pens were poised ready to sign on the dotted line. A shame then that nobody had bothered to call and inform “Mrs Merton”, up in North. She immediately circled her DUP wagons, rolled out the same old Unionist patter and told May, Leo and Junker “The computer says NO!” All hell broke loose. People were scurrying around dark corridors, slamming doors and trying desperately to find alternative words, in their “Oxford Thesaurus of English”, to keep the Unionists at one side.

To justify the lack of movement, a scapegoat would have to be found. Ireland would be that sacrificial lamb. An open, free-flowing border would be the proverbial square peg in a round hole. To allow the UK public the chance to get involved in this debate, Channel 4 went out with pen, paper and a map of Ireland. They would ask people to draw the border that had scuppered the Brexit negotiations. Low and behold no-one could. Did they really expect some poor victim, from the middle of Sheffield, to know where this line should be drawn? Of course not, but it did make good TV and allowed many column inches, in newspapers both sides of the divide.

There were cries of foul play and demands that the “Empire Strike Back”. With lightsabers drawn, there would be much infighting and even the odd few admitting to “Using the force”, to find a wording or two, that suited all sides. Then out of the blue, after much lamp rubbing, the Genie appeared and a wording was penned that suited North, South, East and West.

Even Sky’s very own comedic “Anchor Man” Adam Bolton, managed to have a last minute snipe at Ireland, when interviewing Simon Coveney. The media well and truly had their knives sharpened. They would be prepared to sever every limb, of any politician who was thrown their way. It was like feeding Christians to the lions at Rome’s Flavian Amphitheatre.

Whilst all this politicking continues to rumble on, we the ordinary members of the public just want to see progress. This political points scoring needs to stop and solutions need to be found. Alas, finding common ground for ALL members of a political party, never mind cross-party, is the Holy Grail.

You couldn’t really write a better script for Brexit. It is an unjustifiable race to the bottom. We know that locally, representatives “Pretend” to work together, when their real motive is to get more votes than their competitor. It’s the same in the UK!

Irish and UK politics, one big pantomime? “Oh yes they are!”

“Terms and Conditions Apply!”

So Frances Fitzgerald finally fell on her own sword. Not before putting up a huge, behind closed doors fight, with her Fine Gael colleagues. There was even talk about her “Having something on Leo?” Nonetheless, he remained so steadfastly on the side of “She has done nothing wrong and let’s wait for the tribunal, before judging her!”

The trouble was, that Leo’s pantomime Dames were also told, in no uncertain terms, to get behind their Tánaiste. “They’re behind you!” The spin was “Innocent until proved guilty.” Then more and more, leaked emails started to appear. Evidence against the Minister was mounting, indications being that Frances knew more about the shenanigans surrounding Maurice McCabe, than she was willing to tell the Dáil. Had she convinced Leo, she was no Panto Baddie, no Wicked Witch?

Pressure mounted on ALL concerned, nobody wanted a pre-Christmas election. The hustings were awash with threats of rebellion. There was no festive cheer. The door knocking over the 12 Days of Christmas, was without doubt, going to be a complete and utter disaster. It would be an election date of infamy.

Joy of joys. Two Tuesdays ago Frances did the honourable thing and tendered her resignation, at the very, very, very last minute. Talk about leaving it late. She took the Government and the country right to the wire.

There must have been terms and conditions attached?

Sure enough, only a few hours later, the now ex-Minister and ex-Tánaiste received the full backing of her party. She stood for and was nominated, as the FG candidate for the next general election in her Dublin Mid West constituency. I have no doubt that a future ministerial role has been pencilled in, if FG are returned to govern.

Scroll forward a few days and on Thursday 30^th November, Scotland’s St.Andrew’s Day, Minister Simon Coveney, can’t believe his luck. Accepting the position of Tánaiste with alacrity. Have absolutely no doubt, he has attached his very own “Ts and Cs” to keep FG and FF happy. Will we see a third budget, as promised in the Confidence and Supply Agreement? “Oh yes we will!” Well, only time will tell.

 

Then out of the blue, the terms of reference are announced, by Minister Simon Harris, for the National Review of Specialist Cardiac Services. We’d rub our magic lamp and Waterford’s Lotto numbers would come up. We’d scoop the Euro Millions jackpot. Professor Nolan would lead the review that would once and for all, deliver the South East’s cardiac services.

Alas, yet another false dawn, I am afraid.

The terms of reference, are once again, comical, laughable, and even “Wishy-Washy”. They are quite evidently worthy lines for a pantomime Dame. “Oh NO they’re NOT!” the Government shout. “Oh YES they are!” we shout back.

An unbelievably long, drawn-out timescale of 12 to 18 months. Hello, we might all be dead, by the time the report comes back to Minister Harris! At least the can has been well and truly kicked down the road, for the next Government to fight Waterford.

Then, we see the now obligatory photo shoot, appearing all over social media. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am sure that some, maybe even all, are trying very hard to deliver our very basic health service rights. But when you see only three TDs pictured with the Minister, is it any wonder that this South East “Crisis”, is seen by those in the Dáil as wholly Waterford’s conundrum?

Could I produce a few more TDs from behind the Minister? “Abracadabra”, I shouted, but without my magic lamp to rub, no more appeared.

There are 158 TDs in the Dáil, yet only 3 turned up for the launch picture. That represents less than 2% of the total number seated in Dublin. If all 19 regional representatives had shown up, that would have increased the proportion to 12%!!!!

Or to put it another way. I win €1,000,000 on the Lotto and offer a lucky reader the chance to get 2% or 12% of these winnings. €20,000 or €120,000 – what would you choose????

Percentages matter in Irish politics. It’s very simple. The bigger representation you have, the greater the slice of the pie - Ts and Cs always apply.