"There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so.” William Shakespeare said it. And, you know he had a point. Expediency rules. That’s why, at the time of writing, Bertie Ahern seems certain to remain as Taoiseach.

And who are the masters of expediency in Irish politics? Fianna Fáil? Well, that’s what we might have thought, up to now. But no: it’s the Progressive Democrats, under Michael McDowell. Dear oh dear, how times have changed.
On the run in to the last election, we were treated to the sight of McDowell climbing up a lamp post, all the better to claim the highest possible moral ground for his posters. And what was his schtick back then? That the worst fate that could befall the country would be single party government. That what we needed more than anything else was to ensure that Fianna Fáil would not be returned with an overall majority. The PDs were to be our watchdogs.
Now, the watchdog is refusing to bark.
Why did we ever doubt that Michael McDowell was as cynical as the rest? Ah, but be fair! Bertie’s woes could not have come at a worse time for him. There he was, newly installed as the leader of the PDs and elevated to the role of Tánaiste. The feeling of satisfaction must have been enormous. All he had to do was look in the mirror, and these words might have formed in his mouth…
“What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!”
And, sensing that the hand of history had ushered him into a new and sacred place, looking into his very own eyes, these:
“This above all: to thine own self be true.”
And then what happens? The shit hits the fan! Bertie lands in the manure with allegations of extra curicular payments. You can imagine poor Michael wrestling with the dreadfulness of the potential scenario – that if he was to be consistent with his own pre-election promises, he would have to lead the PDs out of government in double quick time. A voice snuck up and whispered to him:
“Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.”
What a desperate twist that would be. His own head on a platter! Better then, perhaps, to insist to the Fianna Fáil faithful, pointing to the unfortunate Bertie: “Off with his head!”
Something strange was going on inside his mind. Old quotations were coming back to him from far off times.
“Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?”
Would he have to go all the way and say the unsayable:
“Cry ‘Havoc’, and let slip the dogs of war”?
Is it any wonder that in our dreams we can hear him roar!
“That it should come to this!”
Jesus, it’s as if Mary must have known it was coming. Double, double, toil and trouble! The witch Harney got out just at the right moment. Now here he was, left to deal with the biggest lump of doggie do in the entire life of the Government. Meanwhile, other thoughts were swarming in. Perhaps he’d been suckered. Maybe they all knew…
“Yond Liz O'Donnell has a lean and hungry look. She thinks too much: such women are dangerous.”
In a fit of paranoia, a voice rang out:
“Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?”
It was bad enough that Bertie had admitted to getting a dig-out from his friends. But after that came the details of the Manchester payment. And so Michael was forced to lament:
“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.”
Ah, yes they do. But perhaps if he looked to the Bard, he might find an answer! There he is, alone in his den. Books are strewn everywhere, as he searches for inspiration. Eventually he finds what he has been looking for.
“Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe.”
Yes, this was the way forward…
“I will speak daggers to him, but use none!”
He may be bleary eyed for lack of sleep, but he knows now what he must do. What did he think of the pals, who had bestowed their bounty of Bertie?
“A little more than kin and less than kind.”
But he himself would be kind. That was the way forward. He would make it clear now. After all:
“Delays have dangerous ends.”
Forthwith, we are to the Taoiseach’s palace with the news! And, of course, a word of badly needed cautionary advice for Bertie.
“Neither a borrower nor a lender be. For loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.”
The camera pulls back. There we see Bertie, greeting his second in command. Holding him close, as one does one’s enemies. And what does he whisper in Michael’s ear?
“The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.”
Meanwhile, one suspects that the whirligig of time will bring in his revenges…