Simon Harris pictured making his first speech as new Fine Gael leader and being watched closely by the chairman of the party, Mayo TD Alan Dillon, whose name is being linked with a promotion in a proposed frontbench reshuffle. PHOTO: X@Damien_English

FG wheel has gone full circle

Enda's man now at the helm - and Kenny man in Mayo may benefit

By Caoimhín Rowland

FINE Gael entered government with Enda Kenny in 2011, and now it looks like they will depart the offices of the Taoiseach with Kenny’s man at the helm a mere 13 years later.

Harris was always Enda’s man.

I wrote a number of months ago about Kenny informing a Wicklow TD in the car park of Leinster House about his intention to run a precocious councillor from Greystones on the ticket for Fine Gael in Wicklow.

The reason why the autism activist and Frances Fitzgerald parliamentary assistant was chosen? To rile Fine Gael Garden County defectors Billy Timmins and Andrew Doyle.

Both men plotted a coup against the Islandeady man when he was the leader of the party, and Kenny sought to exact revenge by picking a man allied to him and not them.

On Wednesday, March 20, Irish politics woke up to an earthquake.

At 12 p.m., the first day of my holidays and the day the Dáil returned, I had acquired a press pass to visit the home of Irish government, a bucket list item on a day when politicians would first convene in the aftermath of the double referendum defeat.

I didn’t wake up early that morning, but Leo Varadkar and his party members did. I was en route to Kildare Street when I checked my phone and news of Leo’s departure filled my news feed.

A historic day in the Dáil beckoned, and I anticipated it with great excitement.

One thing was off: a strict dress code still persists for journalists in the chamber's press gallery.

A full formal business suit and tie is mandatory, or you would not gain access, and I’d forgotten my suit jacket at home.

Not to worry, I slumped off the bus on Camden Street and thought of the nearest and closest charity shop to get a jacket.

An €8, ill-fitting grey jacket was acquired from the Simon Community shop in South Dublin City, doing my bit for charity and fortuitous foreboding.

A short taxi trip to Leinster House followed suit.

My driver, listening to the radio intently, was ecstatic at the news of Varadkar’s departure.

Much like Holly Cairns and other party leaders, he didn’t feel the need for hollow platitudes in the direction of the two-time Taoiseach before berating his performance in office.

"Where are you from?" he asked me. "Mayo," I said.

"Ah, Enda, now he was a proper Taoiseach. We didn’t know how good we had it back then. You know I had him in the back a fair few times. It’s a shame yiz are yet to win an All-Ireland though."

Being a young person in Ireland is a lot like being a Mayo supporter in the back of a taxi. The driver will always pity you, but still find a way to screw you over.

Passing through the scores of security into Leinster House, I ducked by a portrait of Straide man Michael Davitt, the first Irish hero to greet you, aptly on the left-hand side of the hall.

Then another familiar face amidst the rushing chaos of Irish politics’ inner sanctum. Chair of the Fine Gael parliamentary party, Alan Dillon.

He was as lost as I was, his first heave. How terribly exciting, I thought, but soon realised he will be the one to ceremoniously count the votes for a new leader and attempt to hold a potentially fractious party together during a possible contest.

As readers of these pages know, Dillon is and always will be in the Harris camp; they’re both Enda’s picks.

Still, with an hour to go until Leo would enter Dáil Éireann for his final time as leader of his party, I thought why not go for some lunch.

After all, I’d heard of the fantastically subsidised offerings, and, as a taxpayer, I felt it my duty to dine. Salmon, mash and veg, accompanied by a Fanta, water, a coffee and a Snickers bar - €8.10.

All served with an almost Minnesotan Walmart greeter-style friendliness. In fact, everyone working in Leinster House was so friendly I questioned if they were even there of their own free will.

Each and every politician I spoke with told me of the coarseness of the discourse they receive on an almost daily basis.

A Sinn Féin TD in the south of the country told me he had to remove his post-box due to fireworks and a white powdery substance being thrown in.

He never sent any off for analysis, but Semtex couldn’t be ruled out.

Galway East TD Ciaran Cannon resigned publicly the day before, citing the abuse as a contributing factor. Leo also pointed towards this issue.

Indeed, when contrasted with Leinster House ushers, who provide glasses of water at will for our elected reps, open doors, and change the batteries in office clocks, the real world would also scare me.

Walking into the chamber, Leo was flanked by Ciaran Cannon and by future Taoiseach Simon Harris, a sign that perhaps the heave never happened but a potential orchestrating of succession may have been planned.

Cannon was the tenth TD to announce he won’t be seeking re-election, a considerable number to categorically inform the public they don’t have faith in you.

Michael Ring went off on one to Midwest Radio, well before his anti-woke crusade on RTÉ.

Phil Hogan was revealed by the Daily Mail to have advised Harris since Christmas, golfgate revenge served cold by the former commissioner who still feels hurt by the lack of protection Varadkar provided him.

Simon Harris will be Ireland’s youngest ever Taoiseach, but the old school reign supreme in Fine Gael.

From Enda to Phil Hogan and to Michael Ring’s utterances dictating the media mantra ever since, little has changed but personnel.

It’s a party trying to reinvent itself like a posh Trinity student donning charity shop attire in a quest to seem common.