Blazing the campaign trail

Much to the disappointment of journalists and to the delight of politicians, another couple of election campaigns have ended. And even though the by-elections in Meath and Kildare were not the most entertaining of affairs, they did provide a little bit of diversion and amusement in what is threatening to be a very uneventful year.

When you think about it there is little happening in 2005. No general election, no World Cup, or Olympics, all we really have to look forward to is the absolute tedium of another referendum on Europe.

Still it was good while it lasted. We got to see the various party leaders' electioneering style, some love it, some are plainly embarrassed by it and some just see it as an evil necessity of the job.

The champion, the best of them all on the campaign trail, is Bertie. He so obviously loves it he campaigns all year round, stopping the state car where ever takes his mind on the by roads of the country, and getting out to press the flesh. Last autumn, returning from the Fianna Fáil conference in Inchidonny I saw his car stopped in Clonakilty and there was our Prime Minister knocking on the doors of rural homes greeting anyone who cared to speak to him. On the road back to Cork he passed me out and then there he was again at another village a few miles on, doing the street, shaking hands with the startled people of West Cork. Maybe he worked his way all the way back to Dublin like that.

The by-elections were the same. He was knocking on the doors himself, moving at a hundred miles and hour, no one really knowing where he was going to show up next. Fianna Fáil activists have been speaking about him as if he is a one-man election machine, how he could barely pass a door without knocking on it himself and how he would think nothing of doing a hundred houses in an afternoon. How he told one party member that they would canvas a housing estate they were passing in a snowstorm – just to get out of the cold.

This time out Fine Gael seemed to pull out all the stops, with senior party members swamping the constituencies on occasion. But both Enda Kenny and Pat Rabitte seem happier employing a campaign based on set pieces, large canvasses in town centres, than the relentless 24-hour canvas Bertie Ahern seems to employ.

He just seems to love it, and in that he is different to both his predecessors. Charles Haughey paraded regally though areas during elections shaking hands with those who could get through the flunkies to get to him, as if he was doing them a favour. Albert Reynolds on the other hand seemed faintly embarrassed by the whole thing. At times you couldn't blame him.

One particular incident in Kells during the 1992 General Election springs to mind. The campaign had not been going well for Fianna Fáil, it was Reynold's first serious outing after he had deposed Haughey and the party faithful were not turning out in the numbers expected. Albert arrived one morning in Kells for a bit of electioneering to be met by all the local candidates and a few activists who were obviously determined that they were going to make up for the failings elsewhere.

They had a large open-topped American style car and they sat Albert in the back before setting off down the road, where he was to wave to the faithful. The four candidates jogged alongside, secret-service style, while behind them was the ubiquitous white Hiace van, speakers on top, blaring out céile music at full volume. As the parade took-off through the empty streets other party members went ahead knocking on doors trying to encourage people to come out and meet the Taoiseach. One elderly man in a flat cap walking his dog along the street found himself dragged into this bizarre scene and was brought to meet Albert. The man was looking a bit bemused while his dog, a golden Labrador I remember, was driven into hysterics by the overwhelming céile music and the presence of greatness and tried to climb into the car and had to be dragged off by one of the secret service agent handlers.

The then Government Press Secretary, Sean Duignan, was there and he asked a couple of us journalists what we thought of the party efforts. We were able to tell him in all honesty that it was the best thing any of us had ever seen. He himself thought it all a bit too much.

Unfortunately I didn't get to see Bertie in Kells this time out but no doubt he would have enjoyed it and not been a bit embarrassed.