Straight From The Horse's Mouth

By Charley Brady

So it is with our ex-Taoiseach Bertie Ahern of Fianna Fáil.

In yet another week of revelations that would shatter the credulity of a thirty-year old who still believes in Santa Claus, Bertie has been explaining his - let's be kind, eccentric financial arrangements.

I won't rehash this bewildering and ongoing saga that is being played out in front of an increasingly exasperated Mahon Tribunal (in a wonderful irony the Tribunal was set up by the man himself to sort though dodgy goings- on) but they include carrying sums of Irish punts over to Manchester where he mysteriously travelled the length and breadth of the city turning it into sterling in the back of cars, in the foyers of hotels and of course in bars over a pint of Bass beer.

If we brought in Steve Martin to play the bold Bertie we could do a different take on the movie "Planes, Trains and Automobiles." Only problem is that the film was believable.

Of course he found time in 1993 to sling his girlfriend - who was working for the Party at the time - a cheque for €30,000 so that she could buy the rather nice Georgian house in Dublin that her elderly aunts had been renting for years.

The money wasn't his of course, but the yearly fundraiser at the Royal Hospital Kilmainham meant that the coffers of FF were in healthy shape, and of course it was for a good cause. Elderly aunts and all that, you see.

Benevolent Bertie explained to Celia that naturally the loan would be interest-free but wagging his finger sternly he emphasised that it would have to be repaid eventually.

No hurry or anything, just when she had a spare minute. Which she found a few months ago when she repaid her former employers in full.

Of course, to do that she had to borrow the money from Bertie (still with me, everyone? Oh do please pay attention).

Around and around and around it goes; where it stops, nobody knows. And the total loan now seems to be fixed at €45,510. That's right, I can't keep up either.

As to the money that was being changed in Manchester, well it was never in big amounts.

The total sterling lodgements seem to have evened out at £15,450.

Remember, the Man who was Minister for Finance at the time didn't have an Irish bank account, was living in a bed-sit and was to all intents and purposes squirreling his cash away under a mattress so that he could swap Irish punts for sterling in England in order to buy a place there. That never happened.

Anyway, it was a few thousand here and a few thousand there. No big deal.

Of course the one thing that was consistent about the ex-taoiseach through the years was his consistent portrait of himself as a Man of the People.

He loves to be seen as a plain man who enjoys nothing better than a chat with old pals over a pint.

For a Man of the People he doesn't seem to grasp how much a few thousand measly pounds is to most genuinely ordinary folk.

Take pensioners struggling to stretch their money to the end of the week, just for example.

I wonder what they made of his dismissal of the sums as "peanuts, just peanuts. I don't consider £4,000 to £5,000 anything significant."

Anyway, it would be a dull country without Bertie lending himself so freely to the gaiety of the nation.

This week he explained - certainly to this hack's satisfaction - where the mysterious sums of money came from.

Why, he won it gambling on the horses! But of course! Now why didn't he just tell us all that earlier? We would have understood.

The enigmatic £8,000? He won it at the races! The smaller, insignificant sums that many a hospital or run- down school would be grateful for? The amounts that are "peanuts"?

He distinctly remembers that he had a very good year, that year. Won it on the races, you know.

Never mind that he has previously said on record that he never bets at the bookies. Never.

But wait! The sums were in sterling. Is it possible that the urge to gamble only comes over him when he is under the influence of Perfidious Albion?

Does he only go to the bookies when he's in Britain?

Whatever the reason, I'm convinced. Move along there, now. Nothing to see. Nothing to see here.

As Ian Paisley steps down as First Minister it's heartening to reflect on the very positive changes that have taken place in Northern Irish attitudes over the past few years.

It's wonderful to see, although in truth it always was a relative handful of bigots that made life so miserable for everyone else.

However, as the repulsive Peter Robinson replaces him we can also be sure that some people never change.

I've loathed Robinson for years, ever since he was asked what he thought of the Republic of Ireland's soccer team and the best he could come up with was snorting disdain and the comment that "I hear they even allow 'darkies' to play for them." Not much point in expecting sense out of a bigoted ignoramus like that.

Until this week I knew nothing of his wife other than that she was the DUP MP for Strangford but I'm certainly glad that he found his soul mate when he married Iris Robinson.

He was only in his new job at Stormont one day when she felt the need to let everyone know how she feels about homosexuals. And I think it's fair to say that she's not too crazy about them.

But let her talk, maybe she has a point to make: "Homosexuality is disgusting, nauseous, loathsome, shamefully wicked and vile."

Well, it's a point all right. Not one that a normal human being could agree with, but she's certainly not hiding her light under a bushel.

"I have a lovely psychiatrist who works with me and who tries to help homosexuals turn away from what they are engaged in," she continued.

"He is a born- again Christian [how did I know that religion was going to rear its hydra-head?] and I have met people who have been turned around to become heterosexual and who have gone on to get married and raise families."

You know, I was going to make a few points here but, really, what's the use?

This ignorance speaks for itself. Worse, she feels the insensitive need to make these remarks ONE DAY after a man was left close to death following a homophobic attack on him in Newtownabbey, Co. Antrim.

"Homosexuality is not natural. My Christian beliefs tell me that it is an abomination...

I accept that these people [these people!] can be ostracised and bullied at school but that does not change my perspective as a Christian."

It's a funny thing about Christians. So many that I meet aren't very... well, Christian.

So no, I'm not going to comment on this appalling person except to note that as of today - Sunday June 8th - she may face prosecution under the Public Order Act.

If it were up to me, I'd throw in 'Incitement to Hatred' as well.