Dun Laoghaire. That's where. At this late stage of the game it's easy to get involved in smug congratulations and spitting on people who you know once said hello to a Fianna Failer. But bear you in mind, there's still some life in this dog left. And that dog's name is spelled funny: Dun Laoghaire. I think.
Labour have ruined everyone's day by throwing all their toys out of the pram after precious Ivan Bacik got eliminated. They were actually congratulating the woman earlier on, proving that you can count your red, union loving, tax hiking chickens before they hatch. And who's fighting the fight? Mary Frickin Hanafin. Boom. I told you we love underdogs.
She'd lost this election this morning. It was over. Ball burst. Go home Mary. And you too other Mary. But the blonde with the steely eyes, she was having none of it. When Barry Andrews (shudder) got the axe, she came roaring back, and now Richard Boyd Barrett is sweating in his hemp pants and sandals. Damn crusty hippy.
Hanafin's got Labour running scared...
Now the unfortunate counters are going to have to crack open the boxes and start all over again. Classic! Glad I'm not there...
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