The Squinting Eye:Sinn FÉin TD surprise entrant in Fleadh Cheoil

Lilting, that singular ability to imitate with the mouth the sounds and rhythms of jigs, reels and polkas, holds an honoured place in the Irish musical tradition.

It originated years ago in impoverished communities who could not always find a fiddler or button-accordionist to play at a house dance or a crossroads gathering.

The need would be fulfilled by some stalwart prepared to lilt out the rhythms while men and women danced the reels.

Some would-be sophisticates scornfully referred to it as "gob music", but thankfully it survived all such disparaging attitudes.

Did some mischievous person enter Caoláin's name without his permission? Nobody knows. But just imagine the scene in the jam-packed hall where this most prestigious of contests is held. The place is tense with excitement.

The audience, gnarled ears well marinated from years of listening to lilters, argue about who will emerge as Ireland's champion.

The contest is feverishly combative. Winning the lilting trophy, an exquisite silver depiction of an open mouth mounted on a marble base, will not be easy. Only those with well-toned and well-tuned vocal chords will have a chance.

They have to be able to enunciate the rhythms in such a definite way that even the most hung-over stuacán in the audience can tell the difference between a reel and a jig.

Some are placing their bets on Ó Caoláin because he has had ample opportunity to keep his pronunciation and vocal chords in good fettle in the Dáil.

And that's not all. The lips of the lilter have to be in good working order – labial dexterity is essential in expressing the complex sounds that have to be made at great speed. Many a well-intentioned person has made the mistake of thinking there was nothing to it.

They heard those marvellous accordionists, Brendan Shine and Mick Allen, singing that lively song, 'My Uncle Mick' and thought the lilting part was easy: "With a skidera winka doodledum, a skidera winka dee."

Then they tried to perform it as a party piece and were very hurt when several louts fell about the place laughing.

Speed of delivery and distinct enunciation will certainly be Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin's strong suit, as any observer of Dáil debates can testify.

Another attribute that will stand to him is the ability to keep going on and on, tirelessly, where other competitors may wane and falter. He has proved he can do it inexhaustibly in long and trenchant speeches, in the Dáil and at political gatherings.

Another necessary quality for any lilting champion is being able to disguise the intake of breath.

Marks are always deducted for those lilters who, while performing, open wide their mouths at regular intervals to noisily gasp lungfuls of air. It looks very undignified and unprofessional.

The best mouth musicians were always able to give the impression that they simply swung along easily without the necessity of breathing at all.

They were able to disguise their intake of air, some in much the same way as the Irish-American band leader and trombonist, Tommy Dorsey, who had trained his lips to form a discreet opening at the side of his mouth through which he inhaled unseen by audiences.

There is every reason to believe that Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin will have little difficulty with this facet of the competition.

If he were to enter and to win then you can be sure that the well-oiled, highly-professional Sinn Féin publicity machine would go into top gear: Gerry Adams congratulating him outside the Dáil, Gerry Kelly shaking his hand in Stormont.

It would be a significant boost for the party, at a time when they are being accused of arrogance, lying and deviousness as well as knocking about with racketeers, gangsters and pistoleros.

Norman Freeman