The Eighty-Five Billion Euro Man

by Donal Conaty

  ‘They will pay us back,’ said Ajai with certainty. ‘But that's another day's work. Now what is this business of having two Finance Ministers instead of one?’

  ‘It's really only one-and-a-half, Mr Chopra. Minister Howlin is very small,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Ajai looked at me blankly. He's not big on jokes. ‘They're supposed to be reducing the public service numbers,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I said. ‘Reducing public service numbers is Mr Howlin's responsibility. Mr Noonan has all the other Finance Department duties.’

  Ajai shook his head. ‘He's reducing public service numbers by creating a job for himself,’ he said.

  ‘I am afraid so,’ I said. ‘Sir? Erm … I wonder is there any chance that I could be reassigned now? Perhaps I could go to Portugal? Is there something I could be doing at Head Office?’

  Ajai studied me for a moment. ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘I think I have done all I can here, Mr Chopra,’ I said. ‘And to be honest I need a break. I need to get back to the States to sort out this neck injury. I don't want to see any more Irish doctors. No one should have to do that.’

  A look of complete disdain crossed Ajai's face and he made no attempt to hide it. ‘Pull yourself together,’ he said.

  ‘We'll discuss your situation after the review.’

  The forensic team spent ten days examining Ireland's performance under the Memorandum of Understanding. Finally, Ajai was ready to sit down with the new government and explain to them exactly what they had to do for the next few months. ‘So,’ Ajai said as we walked to the Department of Finance, ‘if I let them reverse the cut in the minimum wage and allow this non-event of a jobs initiative, they will be happy?’

  ‘They'll think they've won the lottery,’ I told him.

  We sat down at a large conference table in a meeting room at the Department and waited for the Taoiseach, ministers and assorted hangers-on.

  Ajai was clearly taken aback when Minister Noonan was wheeled into the room by a nurse. Ajai opened his mouth to speak but I stopped him just in time. ‘Shhh!’ I said. ‘The Minister gets very aggressive if woken suddenly.’

  A moment later Public Expenditure and Reform Minister Brendan Howlin swaggered into the room with a coterie of officials. He walked over to Ajai, who had stood up to shake his hand. The Minister stepped up onto a box placed on the ground by one of his entourage. Then he put his arm around Ajai and got another official to take a photograph of them. ‘This will go on the wall in my office,’ he said, smiling broadly at the camera. Ajai looked disturbed.

  As soon as the photograph was taken, Mr Howlin's friendly manner abruptly changed.

  ‘You think you're so big, don't you, Mr Chopra,’ he sneered. ‘Well you're not so big now!’ With that, to my utter astonishment, Mr Howlin kicked Ajai in the shin.

  ‘Ow,’ yelped Ajai. As the leader of the IMF delegation bent to nurse his leg, Mr Howlin stood over him and ran his hand from the top of his own head down to the stooping Ajai. ‘See!’ he said triumphantly, indicating Ajai's diminished height. ‘I'm the king of the castle!’

  All the commotion had woken Minister Noonan, who was now straining at his ties and screaming for biscuits.

  It took Ajai a moment to regain his composure. ‘Who the hell is that little man?’ he said through clenched teeth, colour rising in his face.

  ‘That's Brendan Howlin, the mini Finance Minister,’ I said.

  ‘Did he really just kick me in the shin?’

  ‘I believe he did, Mr Chopra.’

  ‘Let's just get this meeting underway, before somebody gets seriously hurt,’ he said tersely, glaring malevolently at Mr Howlin.

  Tea and buttered Rich Tea biscuits were brought into the room by a young civil servant. There was also a jug of Miwadi for Mr Howlin. Minister Noonan fixed his gaze on the refreshments and followed their progress towards the table without blinking.

  Dermot arrived with the Taoiseach in tow and strode straight up to Ajai and embraced him like a long-lost friend. Ajai stood stiffly with his arms at his sides. ‘So good to have you back, Ajai,’ Dermot said. ‘I hope we can play a round at the K Club before you leave. They're crying out for green fees at the moment.’

  ‘I should hope they are,’ said Ajai. ‘I don't have time for golf. Shall we get started?’

  ‘Yes let's,’ said Dermot.

  Everyone but the Taoiseach took their seats. Mr Kenny was looking around the table in an agitated manner, a panicked expression growing on his face.

  ‘This won't do,’ he said. ‘It won't do at all.’

  ‘What is the matter, Taoiseach?’ Ajai asked him. ‘We are trying to get some work done here.’

  ‘There is nowhere for Paddy to sit,’ the Taoiseach replied. ‘We can't have the meeting without Paddy. Paddy likes to know what the story is.’

  Perhaps if Mr Howlin had not just kicked Ajai in the shin, he would have dealt with the issue of the Taoiseach's imaginary friend in a gentler manner. Instead, an exasperated Ajai stood up, removed his glasses and said, ‘Mr Kenny, I'm afraid I have to put a stop to this nonsense now. Paddy does not exist. Deal with it and move on.’

  Mr Kenny looked nervously around the room.

  ‘I told you he didn't exist, you half-wit,’ Mr Noonan said, apparently in his sleep.

  Mr Howlin sniggered into his Miwadi.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mr Kenny eventually asked Ajai.

  ‘Paddy is not real. He does not exist,’ Ajai repeated.

  ‘Like the economy?’ the Taoiseach asked Ajai in a timid voice.

  ‘No, Mr Kenny,’ Ajai shook his head. ‘Not like the economy. The economy does exist. It is just very, very small. Paddy is not small. Paddy does not exist. He never did. He is a figment of your imagination.’

  The Taoiseach looked at me, then he looked back at Ajai. He looked at Dermot. He was slack-jawed and stupefied. ‘I have an imagination?’ he said, shattered and bemused. He sank to the floor and curled up in a foetal position. Dermot went to comfort Mr Kenny.

  ‘There, there, Taoiseach. There, there,’ he said in a soothing voice.

  The Taoiseach rocked back and forth in Dermot's arms.

  ‘Paddy isn't real. I have an imagination,’ he said, apparently trying to make sense of a new reality.

  We were doing our best to ignore the spectacle before us but it was like trying to tear your eyes away from a car crash.

  ‘It's OK, Taoiseach,’ Dermot said. ‘Having an imagination is fun. You'll see. Now, I have an important meeting here, Taoiseach, so I need you to go out onto Merrion Street and count how many blue cars you see between now and when it gets dark.’

  ‘Blue cars,’ the Taoiseach said brightly. Then he frowned again. ‘What if I don't see any blue cars?’

  ‘Then you can use your imagination, Taoiseach,’ Dermot said with a smile. He turned to face Ajai. ‘Now let's get down to business, Mr Chopra,’ he said.

  ‘Biscuits,’ said Mr Noonan out of the blue. ‘I want biscuits.’

  ‘Give him his biscuits,’ Ajai said, ‘and let's get on with this.’

  The nurse gave Mr Noonan a buttered Rich Tea and he instantly fell into a trance-like reverie.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Ajai, addressing Dermot rather than the two ministers, ‘I am pleased to say that your initial efforts in meeting the terms and conditions in the Memorandum of Understanding have been successful. We have a long way to go but we are on track. I have spent the last few days going through the books for the first three months. We now know where we stand. We need to negotiate where we are going.’

  ‘We want to reverse the cut in the minimum wage and run a jobs initiative,’ Mr Noonan read from a Post-it note, spitting biscuit crumbs across the table as he did so.

  Ajai looked at the Minister with distaste and brushed the crumbs from his suit jacket. ‘That's fine, Mr Noonan,’ he said. ‘We always acknowledged that there would be room for you to change a few commas and put your own stamp on the
Memorandum of Understanding. Tell me about this jobs initiative.’

  ‘We're going to create jobs,’ Mr Howlin butted in. ‘And you can't stop us.’

  ‘I see,’ said Ajai. ‘And just how do you propose to create these jobs?’

  ‘We're going to announce them of course,’ Mr Howlin said. ‘How else would you do it?’

  ‘You can't create jobs just by announcing them,’ Ajai said.

  ‘Yes you can,’ said Mr Howlin triumphantly. ‘That's how I got my job.’

  Ajai shook his head. ‘As far as I am concerned you can have your jobs initiative,’ he said. ‘But it has to be cost neutral.’

  Mr Noonan slammed his hand down on the table. ‘I want biscuits at the launch,’ he said.

  Ajai looked at me over his glasses. ‘It will have to be cost neutral – apart from two packets of biscuits,’ he conceded.

  I made a note of this so it could be added to the Memorandum of Understanding.

  ‘Now, how are you going to pay for reversing the cut in the minimum wage? The money has to come from somewhere.’

  ‘I will get it from the civil service,’ Mr Howlin said excitedly. ‘No one can stand up to me.’

  ‘Don't mind him,’ Dermot said to Ajai. ‘We'll get the money from the health service. If people are genuinely sick they won't notice.’

  ‘As you wish, Mr Mulhearn,’ Ajai said.

  ‘How dare you ignore me! I will reform both of you,’ Mr Howlin said angrily.

  Ajai and Dermot yawned simultaneously.

  ‘We want a reduction in the interest rate,’ Mr Noonan said, still looking at his Post-it note.

  Ajai shrugged. ‘That's an issue for the EU,’ he said. ‘Take it up with them.’

  ‘Enda tried,’ Mr Noonan said. ‘The bastards wouldn't listen to him.’

  ‘They think they're great, with their tans and their functioning economies,’ said Mr Howlin bitterly.

  ‘Well there is nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid,’

  Ajai told them.

  Mr Noonan fixed Ajai with a chilling stare. ‘Listen here, bucko. I want a reduction in the interest rate and I want it before the bell rings for hometime,’ he said. Then he looked down at his empty mug. ‘And I want a fresh pot of tea.’

  Dermot told a civil servant to bring more tea and biscuits. ‘I'll see what I can do, Mr Noonan,’ Ajai said wearily. ‘Now, to the matter at hand ... Mr Noonan ... Mr Noonan ...’

  The Finance Minister was fast asleep.

  ‘He always has a nap around this time,’ I told Ajai, who was looking at the Minister in exasperation. Mr Howlin was busy spinning around on his chair.

  ‘Get these clowns out of here,’ Ajai said. ‘I want to talk to Mr Mulhearn alone.’

  ‘Come on, gentlemen,’ Dermot said. ‘You can go and tell the media about your great success in renegotiating the bailout. What a triumph!’

  Dermot ushered the ministers to the pre-arranged press conference where the media were gathering, eager to hear how they had got on.

  Ajai turned to me. ‘What about the new guy, the new Dermot? Where is he?’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Err … he's not back from Augusta yet,’ I said warily.

  ‘Augusta? What the hell is he doing in Augusta?’ Ajai asked.

  ‘He went to the Masters on Saturday. Some Irish guy called McIlroy was leading it. He went out on the government jet.’

  ‘To a golf tournament? While we are carrying out the first quarterly review of the bailout? That sounds like something Dermot would do. I thought the new Dermot was better than the old Dermot.’

  ‘The new Dermot was better than the old Dermot,’ I said.

  ‘But?’

  ‘But when he got Dermot's job the new Dermot started acting like the old Dermot. He might as well be Dermot now.’

  Ajai put his head in his hands. Just then Dermot came back into the room. Liam was with him. His skin was now the same orange hue as Dermot's and he carried himself with a new arrogance.

  ‘Sorry to be late, Ajai,’ Liam said. ‘We had to queue to land. Not much point in having a government jet when you need permission to land, is there?’

  Ajai looked at Liam. ‘Who is this?’ he asked.

  ‘This is Liam,’ said Dermot good-naturedly, ‘the new me, as it were.’

  ‘Good,’ said Ajai. ‘I have been wanting to talk to you. Who is in charge of the financial institutions now? I want to know why they are still handing out bonuses. You have years of austerity to sell to your people. I don't understand why the people who destroyed your country are being given bonuses.’

  ‘There's no one in charge of the banks,’ said Liam with a smirk. ‘Why would there be?’

  ‘No one is in charge of them?’ Ajai said. ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘They have no money left, Ajai,’ said Liam as if he was talking to an idiot. ‘It would be an irresponsible waste of money to have anyone in charge of them now. We couldn't justify it. We have to watch every penny in the current circumstances.’

  Ajai was dumbfounded.

  I think Dermot felt that this would be a good time to change the subject. ‘Ajai, as you may know, in order to best manage our situation, my senior civil servant colleagues and I have formed a ... Cabinet, for want of a better word.’

  ‘I am aware of your venture, Mr Mulhearn. Not only do you have two Finance Ministers, but you also have two Cabinets. This must be what is meant by an Irish solution to an Irish problem.’

  ‘Perhaps we could have two bailouts as well,’ Dermot suggested.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ said Ajai. ‘What did you want to tell me about this Cabinet of yours?’

  ‘It's like this, Ajai. We have a problem with the Memorandum of Understanding.’

  ‘I see,’ said Ajai. ‘What might that be?’

  ‘Simply put, it's not very understanding,’ Dermot said. ‘I mean to say it attacks the legal profession, the medical profession, pharmacists, politicians. These people are the very fabric of our society. These are people who cannot afford to be poor. They wouldn't know where to start. Our surgeons and barristers, like our politicians and civil servants, are among the best paid in the world. They are a source of great pride to the nation. Would you leave us with nothing to be proud of?’

  ‘We don't want them to be poor,’ Ajai attempted to reason with him. ‘We just want them to settle for a little less in the interest of the common good.’

  ‘Less is poor,’ Dermot said with a shudder.

  ‘Listen,’ said Ajai. ‘The IMF couldn't care less at the end of the day. If you want certain sections of society to retain all their privileges, then the poor will have to get poorer.’

  ‘That's a great solution, Ajai,’ said Dermot, writing it down. ‘Thanks for that.’

  That afternoon Ajai and our EU and ECB colleagues gave a press conference at which they said Ireland was on track in keeping to the conditions of the bailout. As Ajai and I returned to the Merrion Hotel from the press conference we passed the Shelbourne Hotel, where a fire sale of repossessed Irish properties was being held. There was such interest in it that the hotel could not contain the crowd and people were actually bidding for properties on the street. Cars had pulled up in the middle of the road and their drivers were shouting out bids to the auctioneers. In the middle of the crowd one man was shouting louder and becoming even more frenzied than the others as he waved his cheque book in the air, bidding on every single lot. It was Dermot. Elsewhere in the crowd I spotted other senior civil servants and government ministers bidding excitedly.

  As soon as Dermot saw us he made his way through the melee to greet us. ‘Isn't this great?’ he said. ‘I've bought two apartments already. They're going for a song. A few more of these sales and we'll be back on our feet. We won't need your bailout at all.’

  ‘This is not very prudent of you, Mr Mulhearn,’ Ajai said. ‘I'd say your property market has a long way to go before it bottoms out.’

  ‘Don't be so negative, Ajai,’ Dermot said, as he bid
on yet another apartment. ‘There are loads of new TDs I can rent out these apartments to. They're as safe as houses.’

  Ajai looked at me and checked his watch. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I'm due in Portugal.’

  ‘What about me, Mr Chopra?’ I asked. ‘Can I go too?’

  Ajai pointed at Dermot, who was back in the throng bidding on more properties. ‘And leave him in charge?’ he said. ‘Are you mad?’

  THE STORY CONTINUES ...

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