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Good grief. It was as if we all nodded off for a brief snooze during the afternoon Dail debate on the Social Welfare Bill, and suddenly awoke to find ourselves in a chip shop at closing-time.

Like a gurrier gunning for a scrap, the Green’s elected representative for Dublin Mid-West, Paul Gogarty glared belligerently across the chamber and bellowed “F….K YOU, Deputy Stagg, F…K YOU!”

The fusillade of effs came out of a clear blue sky. Just before 4pm, Paul rose to contribute to the debate, but found his oratory impeded by a spate of heckling from the Labour benches who had been giving merry hell to the government side throughout the past two days.



Go-Go is no shrinking violet, and has a propensity to unleash his inner drama-queen when the mood takes him. He likes to stand out from the pinstriped herd — hence he was to be found in the chamber sporting his usual uniform of open-necked shirt, high-rise Jedward hairstyle and the expression of a sulky teenager grounded for the weekend.

And yesterday he was in no mood to countenance the teasing from the Opposition while he was agonising aloud over his determination to vote for the new bill.

“I am not proud of the fact the banks had to be bailed out, of the corruption and worship of mammon in this country that has brought us to this sorry state, but I am proud to be Irish,” he declared fervently, but was interrupted by an unimpressed Roisin Shortall.

“You should do the right thing then,” she suggested.

Paul bristled. “Because of that, and in all sincerity, believing what I believe to be right, I am supporting the legislation. It is necessary because of the wrongdoing of others, wrongdoing I bear no responsibility for,” he solemnly confided to the House.

Emmet Stagg had been flinging a steady stream of barbs in the direction of the tortured Green. “Bleating and blather,” he snorted.

The red mist began to form around the Green. “I respected your sincerity and I ask you to respect mine,” he said irritably.

“You don’t seem very sincere,” shot back Emmet.

That did it. The red mist landed, the fuse was lit, and Go-Go lost the plot. Shooting daggers at the Kildare North deputy, the Dail’s leading loose cannon gave it to Emmet with both barrels. “With all due respect, in the most unparliamentary language, f..k you Deputy Stagg.

F..k you!” he hollered.

There was a brief stunned silence in the half-empty chamber, while gobsmacked gasps of incredulity drifted through the doors along the press gallery. This wasn’t the usual accidental, off-mic incident that occasionally catches out a sweary politician — such as the Taoiseach’s own F..kergate incident a few weeks after he took office when a muttered comment to Mary Coughlan was picked up by microphones.

This was a full-blooded piece of premeditated profanity.

Potty-Mouth Paul knew it would land him in trouble; not only did he apologise in advance for his flurry of effs, but he immediately put his hands up afterwards.

An aghast Michael Kennedy, who had been peacefully occupying the Ceann Comhairle’s chair, was transfixed by the sudden outburst. “Hey. Excuse me, Deputy Gogarty — that’s most unparliamentary language,” he spluttered.

Paul, having by now captured the attention of every denizen of Leinster House both inside and outside the chamber who had caught his show-stopping impression of Joe Pesci in ‘Goodfellas’ on the in-house video feed, promptly coughed up an apology.

“It’s most unparliamentary language and I now withdraw it and apologise for it, but I am outraged that someone dares question my sincerity on this issue,” he said defiantly.

Luckily for the already precarious dignity of parliament, Emmet didn’t start taking off his jacket — mindful perhaps that the proposal in the recently renegotiated PfG to ban stag-hunting is still only in the early stages. The initials PfG stand for Programme for Government, of course. Or Paul f*&&%!g Gogarty, perhaps.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Even by Go-Go’s usual standards of rebellion, unleashing the eff-word in the Dail chamber had taken his shape-throwing to a whole new level.

Just after 5pm, when almost the entire membership were in the chamber for a committee stage vote on the bill, Paul Gogarty rose to offer another apology. Or rather, offer a case for his defence.

For he had got hold of the Swearing Rule-Book, contained in Dail Eireann’s Salient Rulings of the Chair, which listed a whole heap of curse-words which would’ve been a no-no for Go-Go. These included such horrific insults as ‘chancer’, ‘communist’, ‘corner boy’ and ‘yahoo’. But there was no variation of the f-word.

“Under the rulebook of the chair, number 428, the terminology I used was not included in the list,” he announced.

But he reckoned that he had infracted rule number 431.

“Political charges are in order but personal charges may not be made. Members must not be thin-skinned in relation to political remarks,’” Paul read aloud. “I apologise, I was thin-skinned, I shouldn’t have used unparliamentary language and I apologise profusely to the House,” he concluded and sat down.

Roars of outage rose from the opposition benches as deputies demanded he in the name of god, Go-Go. Fine Gael’s Olivia Mitchell sprang to her feet. “Is that a mental reservation?” she shouted.

Gloomily regarding the uproar, one observer muttered, “More mental than reservation, I reckon”.

Oh, and by the way, the minor matter of the Social Welfare Bill passed by a comfortable margin of 81 votes to 75.

After all the roaring and shouting, it was a piece of f***ing cake.

- LISE HAND

Irish Independent