Where Have All The Bad Boys Gone?

[Lazarus]

Queuing in the post office the other week, who was in front of me but Pee Flynn, ex T.D., Minister, E.U. Commissioner. I was fed up waiting for the line to move along, especially as I was in the bloody wheelchair and when one is in a wheelchair, one is subjected to either pitying looks, quick furtive glances in my leg area, being spoken to IN A VERY LOUD AND SLOW VOICE by people who seem to think that the loss of motion means also the loss of hearing and I.Q., so having worked in the Dáil for 25 years, I thought I'd say hello and see how he was doing.

"Howya Padraigh", says I, giving his very nice Parka jacket a little tug. He spun round and finally located me at his knees. "Well, hello there", he said with a lovely smile. "You are looking sooo well. Tell me, how are things going now?" I was quite startled as I thought for a brief moment that he recognised me, then I thought, "God sake woman, he' a politician. He has no idea who you are."

"You're looking great", says I, and he is. Much better looking now than he used to look. Heavier build, no slimy looking hair dragged over. Tall man. Very tall, mind you everyone looks tall when you are sitting down.

Now I know the history of Mr. Flynn, and his daughter, and his in-laws and none of it makes pretty reading, but I have to tell you, that man spoke to me at length, and was so good that never once did he let it slip that he did not know me from Adam. After all, I had changed a lot in the intervening years and the wheelchair is a new affect. He told me his age, 71, where he was living now. Where he was born, a mile and a half from where I was living, (gasp) etc., etc. He had me convinced (almost) by the end of the conversation that he knew me as well as he knew the back of his hand, although we all know that Pee Flynn never let his left hand know what his right hand was doing.

We exchanged telephone numbers and he went to collect his....pension?? But you know what? I kinda felt sorry for the man. Does that make sense. There was this once well known politician, always in the hub of everything that was going on, and down, and now he was alone, in a queue, in a post office, in a small town in Mayo.

It made me think of all the other "yesterday" men. The ones who were followed by hordes of media people, who were courted by the powerful and the rich. Who had so much influence over so many lives. How do they feel when it is all over? When the "darkness" beckons?

I am an avid hater of FF. I despise them. I do. And yet I left that man, waving to me as if I was a long lost friend, feeling sorry for him. Why?

[Hillmanhunter1]

What about this guy (the one on the left)

[toxic avenger]

Queuing in the post office the other week, who was in front of me but Pee Flynn, ex T.D., Minister, E.U. Commissioner. I was fed up waiting for the line to move along, especially as I was in the bloody wheelchair and when one is in a wheelchair, one is subjected to either pitying looks, quick furtive glances in my leg area, being spoken to IN A VERY LOUD AND SLOW VOICE by people who seem to think that the loss of motion means also the loss of hearing and I.Q., so having worked in the Dáil for 25 years, I thought I'd say hello and see how he was doing.

"Howya Padraigh", says I, giving his very nice Parka jacket a little tug. He spun round and finally located me at his knees. "Well, hello there", he said with a lovely smile. "You are looking sooo well. Tell me, how are things going now?" I was quite startled as I thought for a brief moment that he recognised me, then I thought, "God sake woman, he' a politician. He has no idea who you are."

"You're looking great", says I, and he is. Much better looking now than he used to look. Heavier build, no slimy looking hair dragged over. Tall man. Very tall, mind you everyone looks tall when you are sitting down.

Now I know the history of Mr. Flynn, and his daughter, and his in-laws and none of it makes pretty reading, but I have to tell you, that man spoke to me at length, and was so good that never once did he let it slip that he did not know me from Adam. After all, I had changed a lot in the intervening years and the wheelchair is a new affect. He told me his age, 71, where he was living now. Where he was born, a mile and a half from where I was living, (gasp) etc., etc. He had me convinced (almost) by the end of the conversation that he knew me as well as he knew the back of his hand, although we all know that Pee Flynn never let his left hand know what his right hand was doing.

We exchanged telephone numbers and he went to collect his....pension?? But you know what? I kinda felt sorry for the man. Does that make sense. There was this once well known politician, always in the hub of everything that was going on, and down, and now he was alone, in a queue, in a post office, in a small town in Mayo.

It made me think of all the other "yesterday" men. The ones who were followed by hordes of media people, who were courted by the powerful and the rich. Who had so much influence over so many lives. How do they feel when it is all over? When the "darkness" beckons?

I am an avid hater of FF. I despise them. I do. And yet I left that man, waving to me as if I was a long lost friend, feeling sorry for him. Why?

He wasn't the worst of them. There were far cuter boyos than Flynn...

[tonic]

Queuing in the post office the other week, who was in front of me but Pee Flynn, ex T.D., Minister, E.U. Commissioner. I was fed up waiting for the line to move along, especially as I was in the bloody wheelchair and when one is in a wheelchair, one is subjected to either pitying looks, quick furtive glances in my leg area, being spoken to IN A VERY LOUD AND SLOW VOICE by people who seem to think that the loss of motion means also the loss of hearing and I.Q., so having worked in the Dáil for 25 years, I thought I'd say hello and see how he was doing.

"Howya Padraigh", says I, giving his very nice Parka jacket a little tug. He spun round and finally located me at his knees. "Well, hello there", he said with a lovely smile. "You are looking sooo well. Tell me, how are things going now?" I was quite startled as I thought for a brief moment that he recognised me, then I thought, "God sake woman, he' a politician. He has no idea who you are."

"You're looking great", says I, and he is. Much better looking now than he used to look. Heavier build, no slimy looking hair dragged over. Tall man. Very tall, mind you everyone looks tall when you are sitting down.

Now I know the history of Mr. Flynn, and his daughter, and his in-laws and none of it makes pretty reading, but I have to tell you, that man spoke to me at length, and was so good that never once did he let it slip that he did not know me from Adam. After all, I had changed a lot in the intervening years and the wheelchair is a new affect. He told me his age, 71, where he was living now. Where he was born, a mile and a half from where I was living, (gasp) etc., etc. He had me convinced (almost) by the end of the conversation that he knew me as well as he knew the back of his hand, although we all know that Pee Flynn never let his left hand know what his right hand was doing.

We exchanged telephone numbers and he went to collect his....pension?? But you know what? I kinda felt sorry for the man. Does that make sense. There was this once well known politician, always in the hub of everything that was going on, and down, and now he was alone, in a queue, in a post office, in a small town in Mayo.

It made me think of all the other "yesterday" men. The ones who were followed by hordes of media people, who were courted by the powerful and the rich. Who had so much influence over so many lives. How do they feel when it is all over? When the "darkness" beckons?

I am an avid hater of FF. I despise them. I do. And yet I left that man, waving to me as if I was a long lost friend, feeling sorry for him. Why?

My tuppence worth. You have your cartoon image of all things FF, but then you meet the reality of a man, even with a bit of a creepy reality like the bold pee and he's just a man, maybe even a nice decent sort of man.

[MPB]

My tuppence worth. You have your cartoon image of all things FF, but then you meet the reality of a man, even with a bit of a creepy reality like the bold pee and he's just a man, maybe even a nice decent sort of man.

No he is a professional con artist. The fact that he convinced the invalided woman that he was in the post office to collect his old age pension when he has about 100k paid into his bank account from his numerous other pensions is proof positive of the sort of con artist we have representing us in the Dail.

[stewiegriffin]

I find many politicians a bit creepy 'in the flesh' so to speak . They are so genuinley insincere . That dosent mean they are not witty or charming , it just means I think they are borderline socio paths . There are some exeptions of course , not too many mind .

[mr_anderson]

Lazarus, you just got 'worked' by a politician.
Its how the likes of the bert get portrayed as the 'common man'.
Its also how convicted tax evadors get constantly elected to the dail.

Remember, these are the sort of people who would cut disability benefit before they cut their own six-figure salaries.
Never let your guard down !

[gatsbygirl20]

Queuing in the post office the other week, who was in front of me but Pee Flynn, ex T.D., Minister, E.U. Commissioner. I was fed up waiting for the line to move along, especially as I was in the bloody wheelchair and when one is in a wheelchair, one is subjected to either pitying looks, quick furtive glances in my leg area, being spoken to IN A VERY LOUD AND SLOW VOICE by people who seem to think that the loss of motion means also the loss of hearing and I.Q., so having worked in the Dáil for 25 years, I thought I'd say hello and see how he was doing.

"Howya Padraigh", says I, giving his very nice Parka jacket a little tug. He spun round and finally located me at his knees. "Well, hello there", he said with a lovely smile. "You are looking sooo well. Tell me, how are things going now?" I was quite startled as I thought for a brief moment that he recognised me, then I thought, "God sake woman, he' a politician. He has no idea who you are."

"You're looking great", says I, and he is. Much better looking now than he used to look. Heavier build, no slimy looking hair dragged over. Tall man. Very tall, mind you everyone looks tall when you are sitting down.

Now I know the history of Mr. Flynn, and his daughter, and his in-laws and none of it makes pretty reading, but I have to tell you, that man spoke to me at length, and was so good that never once did he let it slip that he did not know me from Adam. After all, I had changed a lot in the intervening years and the wheelchair is a new affect. He told me his age, 71, where he was living now. Where he was born, a mile and a half from where I was living, (gasp) etc., etc. He had me convinced (almost) by the end of the conversation that he knew me as well as he knew the back of his hand, although we all know that Pee Flynn never let his left hand know what his right hand was doing.

We exchanged telephone numbers and he went to collect his....pension?? But you know what? I kinda felt sorry for the man. Does that make sense. There was this once well known politician, always in the hub of everything that was going on, and down, and now he was alone, in a queue, in a post office, in a small town in Mayo.

It made me think of all the other "yesterday" men. The ones who were followed by hordes of media people, who were courted by the powerful and the rich. Who had so much influence over so many lives. How do they feel when it is all over? When the "darkness" beckons?

I am an avid hater of FF. I despise them. I do. And yet I left that man, waving to me as if I was a long lost friend, feeling sorry for him. Why?

Lovely post, Lazarus. So well written. Flynn was a larger than life character. Gave us so many laughs. Revived a flagging Late Late with his "3 houses" comedy routine. Not to speak of his Paulean conversion from arch-misogynist (Mary Robinson) to on-message Aids campaigner when he moved to Europe (sending out free condoms on Valentine's day). Of course he would chat in a post office. The human side of those we love to vilify often surprises us. Politicians never unlearn that art of making the connection. They never stop canvassing

You feel sympathy for him as you feel his time has passed. Can't muster much sympathy for him myself, and I'm a compassionate creature normally. But I sort of draw the line at Flynn. But on your larger point about how "yesterday's men" feel when the "darkness beckons". They take it terribly hard. Remember the Iron Lady's tears on leaving Downing St? Or Churchill's clinging to power? Albert Reynold's ashen face when he realized there would be no term in the Park, and that the game was up?

Philip Larkin has a poem called "At Grass" about two retired show-jumping horses, standing still at evening time in a field---all their glory passed. No more handicaps, or trophies, or cheering crowds. "They have slipped their names" and they stand "anonymous again". Nothing much in their future now except death "Only the groom, and the groom's boy// With bridles in the evening come"
Like the horses, when the power is stripped away, the once powerful politician is shown in all his frail humanity, unsupported by the trappings of office. We might almost pity him.

[Pauli]

Lazazus,
You were certainly given the ABC of Irish politics by a seasoned practitioner of the art.
Always Be Canvassing.

[Stroke]

That's what being a politician is all about in the country, particularly in the west. Noel Treacy is a complete natural when it comes to it as well. Met him at several funerals, he still doesn't know my name, but he knows who my family are and will always ask how is so-and-so, how his Mrs X since passed away, etc. Totally clued in to the people who he has to engage with every day.

George Lee could not bring himself to do something like that, and it's learning to deal with ordinary people in ordinary situations as a politician that he was unable to grasp. You can't impose your economic vision unless you have the common touch, and until you've communicated it effectively.....