Dublin Opinion

So he wasn’t surprised. That doesn’t surprise me. If he was surprised, now that would surprise me. So Martin Wall sat down in front of Bertie Ahern and Celia Larkin and opened a suit case of cash, and Bertie didn’t bat an eye lid, didn’t raise an eye brow, didn’t say “Whoa, dude!” or whatever the 1994 equivalent of “Whoa, dude!” would have been for a man of his background whose concept of popular culture doesn’t extend beyond the Dubs GAA team and a pint or two in Fagan’s. Probably “Jaysus, Michael”, but I can’t be sure. He didn’t even say that.

Now if himself and Celia started sifting through the cash, maybe taking a bunch out and flicking through it, sniffed it perhaps, just to know what Stg£30,000 smelt like, and, when the significance of it dawned on them, joyously, recklessly flinging notes in the air as a celebration of their wonderful good luck at having received this windfall of cash, when by his own account he badly needed it, then I would be surprised.

No, this was small change to Bertie. By the way, why was ‘suitcase stuffed with £30,000 in cash? I’m sure the suitcase was large enough to contain the money and still leave room for a couple of pairs of boxer shorts.