It's that time of the day. Ten to nine. In about twenty minutes, it'll be that other time, about ten past nine.
It's slow going on election day in Ireland. Then shit out of nowhere you're standing outside and the crazy Returnign Officer announces the second count while you're chatting with your mate. Only consolation is that no one else fecking well got it either. There wasn't a journo in the place who was ready for that call.
Half the job out here is being ready for the call, and we're all here with our fancy laptops and our lazy Frenchmen, and we miss it curse you cruel fates. Curse you inconveniently located dressing room/media room.
Here's how it's breaking down now: Parties are about to get their party on. Except Fianna Fail who will cry and the Greens who will cease to exist. How's that for an existential crisis. One day you exist, several million angry votes later, you do not. Bitter pill to swallow.
Fine Gael: 18
Fianna Fail: 3
Green Party: 0
Sinn Fein: 4
Watch Joe Higgins there under the "Other" category. He loves being Other. Gets him off. You know it. It's going to go long into the night... but not here. Just a handful left to count now, and then we're gonna be done. They're going to make me pack my fancy laptop and productive Frenchman (I changed my mind mid blog) and leave...
You'll miss me right?
Not just yet... we have time yet. Me and you...