A Complete Explanation Of Everything

Physically, he is still corporeal. Politically, he is dead.

For the time being.

Like a cigarette end that refuses to extinguish or a piece of dog shite on a shoe, he might be with us for some time yet and could yet enjoy a renaissance, a twilight in some form or other.

President of Ireland? President of Europe? It doesn't bear thinking about but the Minister for Finance sans bank account has pulled off similar miracles before. That famous line from CJH about his erstwhile lieutenant has echoed with damning schadenfreude from beyond the grave with increasing frequency and virulence these past few years, Charlie knew what he had visited upon the Irish people and laughed merrily.

Bartholomew began life as a humble civil servant in the Health sector, which he would later go on to dismantle and throw as the proverbial bone to the hound dog Mary Harney, in an ideological sacrifice that cramped space at the Cabinet table but made Fianna Fail's life easier all round. Let her eat health was undoubtedly the cry, an effective maneuver that removed the only threat to standards in office in real terms being dragged up politically.

My abiding memory of Bertie was during the last election but one, hordes of supporters around him and camera crews pushing and jostling at whatever hotel the Fianna Fail machine was holed up in at the time, an interview just finished, positive news flowed in about a close seat. For a moment, forgetting himself, he let out a quick "Yeow!" and gave a little jump for joy... The type of celebration not out of place say when Houghton scored against England in '88 or against Italy in '94 but there was a glint in his eye that spoke volumes, this wasn't a victory for the common good, this was private, this was personal.

He had his achievements such that he would point to and those that his supporters would dredge up, the peace process for example. There is some merit in the fact that the Irish brothers are not currently shooting the arses off each other and it's true that the Blair / Ahern double act of insincerity and wide smiles played a significant role but more than anything, fortunate circumstance seems to have ridden and salvaged a destiny for Patrick Bartholomew. The consistent fact that the North was an expensive proposition for the United Kingdom and that the leaders of the provisional movement finally realised that outright victory was impossible in the modern era allowed Bertie to push at an open door. The situation on the ground as it pertains today in the North is however vastly more complicated than the outgoing Taoiseach will own but it's in his nature, to think this achievement cannot be undone.

So what led to Bertram's grand departure, if anything, internal politics and much like any autocratic dominion, when Il Duce calls time, it is only a matter of time before, Et tu Biffo? must be uttered. In time, I'm sure it will out that pressure was brought to bear on the legend of Drumcondra in a most unseemly way, thoroughly undignified but par for the course for an outgoing leader of Fianna Fail.

Tonight however, it's time to pull out the smokes and leave the daggers aside and have a few in Fagan's in honour of the man, the memories and the misquotes. And if all the patriots are still alive, not having taken their leader at his behest and committing suicide for a bit of economic rationality, perhaps you'll join me in raising a glass of bass, to the Minister for Finance sans bank account...

Thanks Bertie, you consistently reinforced my conviction in the surreal.