It seems Enda has left his diary in the chambers this morning. He’s not in the best of ways recently (what with this whole hung parliament). So I doubt he’s in the mood to fill in a diary. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for this to become the Presidential Journal for a while, just until they find a suitable candidate to take over for him. One who might actually appreciate some poetry from time to time
So, what should I write about while Enda’s away? I could take this opportunity to make him look like a fool. I’m sure the last few posts in here make him out to be some sort of golden god. But it would be cruel of me to kick on someone when they’re down. If it wasn’t, I would’ve kicked him many, many times throughout the last four years.
Perhaps some of my critically acclaimed poetry? I have some new material that has been a real knockout at dinner parties here in the Áras. Literally, people are so blown away that by the time I’m done they’re unconscious in their seats. But maybe the world isn’t ready to experience such beautiful work yet. I’ll save it for another time.
No, I think I’ll start with the basics, and write about what I do. After all, everyone thinks all I do is look sit at home and have tea and biscuits while the Taoiseach runs the country. Which isn’t true at all. Jaffa Cakes aren’t biscuits.
So, if the Taoiseach is busy running the country, what do I get up to? Well, I obviously appoint the Taoiseach after elections, as well as the first parliament members. And whenever someone wants to resign, I have to be the one to say, “yep, off you go”. I mean, granted, I can’t actually say no to any of this, but it’s just nice they would ask me. I can even dissolve the Dáil if I wanted (not literally dissolve it, that would make me some kind of Bond villain). Well, not if I wanted, more if… the Dáil wanted. Again, really, it’s just nice to be included in the decision, even if there’s not much of a decision to actually make on my end.
“Everyone thinks all I do is look sit at home and have tea and biscuits while the Taoiseach runs the country. Which isn’t true at all. Jaffa Cakes aren’t biscuits.”
Of course, when it comes to vetoing bills… I can’t do that either. I can send it to the courts to check it, but really, I leave the bills to the TDs. Far too insignificant for the President anyways. I’m too busy representing Ireland abroad. Even though Enda is the one who goes to the White House every year, and all Irish Ambassadors sign in my name for me so I don’t have to come out all the way to do it myself. Very thoughtful.
I’m Supreme Commander of the Defence forces, of course, and I have complete control of any and all Irish military personnel, at the recommendation of the Minister for Defence. Coveney is a lovely gentleman. Knows I’m too busy with other Presidential matters, so he does it for me. Doesn’t even phone me. He knows the line is always jam packed.
Of course, I do have some limits to my power. Technically, I can’t actually leave Ireland without the government’s permission. So no sneaky holidays to Ibiza anymore, sadly. I also can’t actually make any addresses to the nation without their consent either… now that I think about it, the Government does seem like the President’s overbearing father: “Don’t leave your room”, “Don’t talk out of turn”, “You could do all this, but I’ll do it for you. It’s easier that way”, “No, Mr. President you can’t throw a house party in the chambers”.
Alright. Maybe I’m not really a “leader” as such, but damned if I’m not the only one who hasn’t been doing much around here. And since this isn’t really an address to the nation, I can say whatever I please, can’t I?
Things aren’t going too well in the Dáil right now. I know, you must think “when do they ever?” But for the past month every time I pay a visit down there it’s chaos. No one knows who’s in charge. The last time I checked they had changed their political parties into gangs and started fighting over the dwindling resources left in the desert with radically modified cars and trucks. Or maybe that was that Mad Max film that they were showing on RTÉ last night.
“By day, I’m just a humble Irish President. But by night, I spend my time handcrafting some of the greatest pieces of Irish poetry known to man”
Even so, it’s quite a nightmare down there. I’ve never seen so much panic in the Dáil since Minister Wallace came in dressed in a shirt that wasn’t salmon coloured. Everyone is asking when things will be sorted and they can go back to their jobs full time, and I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure myself.
It appears that Enda has up and disappeared in the last few days since he got back from America. Perhaps he had had enough of being Interim Taoiseach and decided to leg it while he still had time. Perhaps the CIA had something on him and he decided to go underground. He might’ve been a crack spy under the guise of the world’s least interesting world leader. It wouldn’t surprise me. After all, by day, I’m just a humble Irish President. But by night, I spend my time handcrafting some of the greatest pieces of Irish poetry known to man (never mind what Ms Carol Rumens might think…). But as I said, I’ll save that for another time.
Whatever the case, and whoever we have next, we should be strong. Our ancestors didn’t bleed for us so we could complain about not knowing what to do next. Perhaps these last few years have been unkind for us, but I know as long as we don’t forget who we are and what we’ve come from, that this is just a road bump on our way to greater things. We’ve done well for ourselves, and can only do better. Like my favourite musician once said, “We started from the bottom and now, we’re here.”