WITH Micheál Martin shortly due to make the traditional St Patrick’s Day pilgrimage to Washington to present the bowl of supermarket parsley to President Trump, it’s fair to say that the usual diplomatic dance that Irish leaders have perfected over decades will need some, shall we say, massaging.
With Trump back in power and tensions running high over everything from Ukraine to tariffs, I believe Martin should embrace a uniquely Irish approach – flattery so excessive it borders on satire. Hear me out.
Forget overt criticism about US policy in Gaza or Trump’s recent cozying up to Putin, which bounces off him like water off a duck’s back. Mr Martin should deploy toe-curling, abject fawning at an industrial scale instead. Trump will eat that up quicker than a bucket of Chicken McNuggets off the Resolute desk.
So here’s my modest proposal for what Micheál should say to the 47th President of the United States:
‘Mr President, it’s an honour to meet the greatest leader, not only in the history of this universe, but quite possibly in the history of all universes past, present and to come. Your victory in November wasn’t just historic – it was prehistoric. Dinosaurs would have voted for you if they hadn’t been wiped out by a meteor that, frankly, wouldn’t have dared hit Earth on your watch.’
He should go on: ‘Your golf resort in Doonbeg has taught us Irish so much about ourselves. The way you’ve tamed nature with that magnificent sea wall – it has been truly inspiring for us. Before Trump came to Clare, we Irish were just letting the Atlantic Ocean do whatever the hell it wanted. The cheek! Your environmental wisdom has shown us that sometimes the best way to deal with rising sea levels is to simply tell them they’re fired. Truly, Mr President, you have inspired us to Make Ireland Great Again!’
Adding: ‘As Irish people, we know a little something about troubled real estate transactions and the art of the deal. Indeed, we are a country that made itself rich by selling property to one another and paying as little tax as possible in the process, achievements you would surely be proud of, Mr President. Of course, great friends cannot always agree on everything. And I should warn you that we’re pretty woke in Ireland these days. We’ve largely cast aside bacon and cabbage and TB in favour of avocado on toast and gay marriage. But rest assured, Mr President. In the past Ireland has exported some of the best racists in history to your shores. They arrived on Ellis Island and immediately began climbing the ladder by stepping on whoever was below them. Frankly, we’re glad we got rid of them but you should know that you would not be in the position you are in today were it not for a lot of thick, Irish racists. Please don’t forget that when you come to slapping tariffs on Viagra.’
Our Taoiseach should continue with: ‘And your family, Mr President – what a dynasty! The ancient Irish High Kings would bow before the Trump bloodline. Your children represent the pinnacle of nepotistic excellence. We particularly admire how Ivanka and Jared have proven that having absolutely no qualifications is no barrier to solving pesky problems like Middle East peace. In Ireland, we have a long history of these dynasties with a deep understanding that who you’re related to matters more than your qualifications. Your vice-president, JD Vance, comes from a proud Scots-Irish lineage. When he sat roaring abuse at President Zelenskyy in the Oval Office last week, all I could think of was the Reverend Ian Paisley! Given his bloodline, it’s no surprise he displays such a natural gift for dealing with dangerous Orangemen.’
And with that, Mr Martin should make his excuses, mutter something about an ‘Irish Farewell’, and head straight for the airport. I’d pay good money to see the look on Trump’s face as he leaves.
Yes, it’s time for Ireland to ‘suit up’ and deliver a few blows using our most potent weapon of all – the English language. May the road rise to meet you, a Mhichilín!
A distraction from the rest
IF you’re looking for some distraction for the chaos that is the world today, let me offer you some options. I’m absolutely hooked on the new series of The White Lotus. Mike White has outdone himself with this Thailand-set season, taking the show’s trademark mix of social satire and paradise-gone-wrong to new heights. The sublime soundtrack doesn’t hurt either. The show continues to balance comedy with genuine discomfort – just when you’re laughing at a passive-aggressive dinner scene, someone drops a truth bomb about colonialism that forces you to examine your own tourism habits.
And I adored Timothée Chalamet’s performance in A Complete Unknown, the brilliant biopic on Bob Dylan’s early years. Of course, it doesn’t hold a candle to DA Pennebaker’s 1967 documentary Don’t Look Back which is mesmerizing and worth digging out if you can find it. America, eh? Always transfixing us in one way or another!
