Search Results for 'Dail'

Pat Lam is preparing his league-leading squad for a physically demanding encounter against fellow play-off hopefuls Edinburgh in Murrayfield tomorrow (7.35pm).

Councillors paid warm tributes to newly elected Galway East TDs Anne Rabbitte and Sean Canney at Monday’s local authority meeting.

For many candidates, tomorrow (Monday) brings a new reality. They will wake up facing new challenges in their lives. On Friday, they had a future in politics. Now that has all changed. But changing career and adjusting to life after politics is never easy, especially if youv’e made a name for yourself in the old profession.

So do you know yet? Have you made up your mind if so-and-so deserves your vote? Have you decided if you can trust your candidate to really care or has he/she the look of a chancer about them? Do you feel respected when you hear them talk or do you feel a just a little bit patronised. Do you feel that whether you vote or not will not impact on the result. Or your life? Or the life of those around you? Apart from those who are actively involved and engaged with the parties and candidates, there are many who feel that voting does not matter and so they don’t bother. So there is a dilemma. Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope?

“A consultant rheumatology service for 11 hours a week at Mayo University Hospital is simply not adequate or acceptable” says Independent general election candidate Mulranny based GP Dr Jerry Cowley who insists that a full scale rheumatology unit needs to be located at Mayo University Hospital in light of the present demand by patients and the extensive waiting lists for patients to be seen at both Galway University Hospital or Manorhamilton.

Senator Lorraine Higgins has called for an Oireachtas dress code to be introduced following General Election 2016, adding that it is unacceptable that members of Dail and Seanad Eireann would enter the chambers of our national parliament dressed in unsuitable attire.’

I have written before how records from the Military Pensions Archive show that more than 200 members of Cumman na mBan, some who had sustained injuries and took risks with their lives participating in military action both during the Easter Rising, and in the subsequent War of Independence, were refused a pension because the pension was only applicable ‘to soldiers as generally understood in the masculine sense’.*

Before the cock crows five times, the belief is that the country will be in election mode. Not a dog will be able to relieve itself against the base of a telegraph pole for fear of having a ladder placed on his paw. Not a handshake or a greeting will be uttered by an upstart candidate that won’t be cynically mistaken for a canvass. And the stage will be set for what will be perhaps the most open and unpredictable general election in modern times as the parties and their people stomp from door to door to get your vote.

Could it be possible that after the General Election Galway city would have no political representation in the Dail? Yes, it is, and it would appear to Insider that three of the main political parties – Fine Gael, Fianna Fail, and Sinn Féin – intend it to be that way.

We’re nearly there, any day now. Enda will sup tay with Michael D, slap him on the back and say ‘howya lad, I’m thinkin’ of going to the country so will ya sign this pieceen of paper so I can turn the car wesht and start the canvassing’…the knocking on doors. But I’m ahead of him. I’ve been on the canvass for a month now. Getting the face out there. Pressing the flesh. Meeting the great unwashed. With their flus and their colds. And the smell of dinner of them. Every night I’m at it and every day. With my team. Up the path shuffle, ears open for fear the bloody dog would wake, but there’s no dog so there’s a soft cough and a rattle of the knocker and a figure coming up the lit hallway…Howya Maam is himself at home? Oh sure yourself will do. I’m running in the election so I am so I’d be hoping you’d give me your number one or two or anything at all…sure I know yer local man has looked after ye well down here with the new light above at the church and all that but I’d look after ye too so I’d take a two too so I would when you’re scratching your numbers down at the school next month…Oh ya well that’s great so it is…and here’s me card and me email address. I’ve an email address now that people can email me from their email machines on their computer thingys…or you can twitter me or like me or poke me on Facebook, so if you’ve any potholes or potheads or anything you want rid of, I’m your man. I’m your man. I’ll do everything I can, to get meself elected…thank ya ma’am thank ya… Too aisy, this is. The public love me, can’t get enough of me, but will they vote for me. D’ya think she’ll vote for me? She will in her…whole month now I’ve been doing this patch, scratching away at the list all week…patting snottynosed kids and spitting at snottynosed dogs…giving me opinion on everything and anything under the sun…’cos I’m well read…Get the Times so I do…Vote for me. I’m your man. I’ll do everything I can, to get meself elected…Repeal the eighth is it? Jaysis that’s wimmens’ matters now so I’m not too up to speed on these but sure if you want me to repeal it, whatever it is I will, and the Ninth and Tenth as well if you that’s what you want. And I’ll plead the Fifth. I will, sure I will if you’ll vote for me…I nod a lot and what’s the word, empathise. That’s the one. It means pretending I feel like they do…I tut tut. Yeah the floods and the hospital…shocking stuff shocking…you were 78 hours on a trolley…jaysus that’s terrible so it is. Well if I get elected, I’m banning trollies so there’ll be none of them. They can sleep on the floor. They’ll be glad they had trollies then, so they will…and the homeless, yeah I think about them, but sure you don’t have to think much about them when you’re knocking on doors, ‘cos they don’t have doors and you’re not going to meet one, so you nod and tut tut…and blame the government…Vote for me. I’m your man. I’ll do everything I can, to get meself elected…I dream of the guts of a million spondoolicks over five years. I dream of standing on the plinth outside the Dail in March. A plinth is just a big step, ok. One big step for “I’m ur man”kind…“what d’ya mean I’ll have no power. Sure I will. I’m me own man. I won’t be whipped. Sure I haven’t been whipped since herself came home from Fifty Shades in the village cinema last year full of bullock’s notions, so she was. I keep walking and knocking. They love me. Can’t get enough of me. I’m giving them everything they want. Another door, another mangy dog, where are all the cat lovers when you’re canvassing?… they send the kid out ‘cos they’re watching Operation Transformation and the state of them all sitting on the couch atin’ pizza and drinking Coke and laughing at the fat feckers on the telly. Father waddles out eventually…I shake the hand and he tried to catch me out. “Sure I’m a nationalist too, yeah the right kind, not the kind that kills ya, the other kind. We’re five weeks out now from the big day…don’t forget the face now or the name…got the new suit for when they lift me on their shoulders and throw me up and down…and my speech done, two of them, wan for if I’d ever lose, and another one where I thank Mammy for making me the man I am, and for making me breakfast for nigh on 50 year.