I won't be raising a glass to this 'Budweiser Budget'

Sunday Tribune 13 December

'When things go wrong and will not come right
Though you do the best you can,
When life looks black as the hour of night –
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.'

Brian Lenihan must have been reading Flann O'Brien's The Working Man's Friend before he dozed off and dreamed up last week's budget. What better way to take the sting out of bad news than by buying everyone a few scoops?
I like scoops. Probably too much. I regularly drink more than whatever the recommended guideline is. That's why I'm applauding Lenihan for lowering the pint by 12c. Right?
Wrong. Minister Lenihan, I didn't ask for – and don't want – your 12c cut. You can't buy me that easily. There are far more worthy recipients of your 'largesse'.
How about carers and the blind? Their allowances have been snipped by 4.1%. What does that say? Forget the blind, get blind drunk instead?
Or the pensioners who now have to pay for their medicines. Or the low-income families creaking under debts, levies, reduced dole and child benefits and a new carbon tax? Never mind them, a pint of plain is your only man.
I won't be raising a glass to cut-price booze, because these families won't be. This Budweiser Budget targets the most vulnerable and that's nothing to celebrate. Lenihan says lowering the alcohol excise duty will stop people going north. It won't and he knows it.
Last Tuesday, a bottle of Baileys cost €26.10 in Dunnes, Dublin. In Sainsbury's, €11.08. A litre of Carlsberg €3.98 and €1.84 respectively. The 20% excise reduction won't be enough to stop 'drink tourism'. The adjustment of Vat in January (to 21% here and 17.5% up north) won't make much of an impact either. Booze will still be cheaper.
Lenihan juggled CSO figures to justify his excise cuts. He said 44% of cross-border shoppers are buying alcohol. True. However, the CSO says it's not the main reason people head north – 79% are there for groceries. Instead of tinkering with alcohol, a more courageous move would be to lower vat to 15% and compete with the UK in the grocery market.
Lenihan's gargle cut is not about the north. It's a cynical stunt – along with not taxing cigarettes and gambling – to pacify us. What does that say about his opinion of us? Does he think unemployed people sup pints all day, in between trips to the bookies?
Does he see the rest of us as pliable booze-bags, who can be bribed to look away as he hammers the disadvantaged? The optics may be in his favour here. Look at the pictures of cars stuffed full of bottles and see how ridiculous our obsession with gargle is. Or stand outside the off-licence on Holy Thursday to see the panic-buying for Good Friday.
How does this look to the world outside? Lenihan said: "we're getting our house in order". He obviously meant 'public house'. Here's how the Chicago Tribune saw it: "Lenihan sought to offer one boost to public morale by cutting taxes on liquor. Ireland has the highest rate of alcohol consumption among major European nations…" This referred to the OECD Health at a Glance Report which was published the same day as the budget.
Morale boost: let the rummies drink beer. Embarrassed? I am. And annoyed when I think of all the effort the state made to change my drinking habits.
Look at those patronising 'Enjoy alcohol sensibly' warnings. (Don't most people drink to become insensible?) And the decision to close off-licences at 10pm. And the stricter drink-driving laws.
On Wednesday, none of this mattered. The government needed us boozed up. 'Never mind the warnings, drink up'. 12 cents! Hurrah!
Here's what I'm going to do with my 12c, minister. I'm multiplying it by 100 (pints) and adding it to our Christmas donation to the Vincent de Paul. Calls are up 30% this year and they need the money. It's not much, but it's a small statement of solidarity with those hit hardest by the budget.
Let's end with a rhyme, as we started with one. It's for you, Brian. Hope you like it…

The Working Man's Other Friend

(By DK, With apologies to Flann O'Brien)

When you're old and frail and times are hard

And your only friend's the medical card,

When you've paid your taxes, for your sins,

And they're charging for your med-i-cines,

When it's 50 cents to buy your pills

And you're terrified of getting ill,

'Don't worry,' says Brian, 'you'll be grand –

A pint of plain is your only man.'

When you're young and married with three kids

And life is, generally, on the skids,

When they've slashed your pittance from the dole

And Gormley wants to tax your coal,

When you're angry, broke and your house is cold

And Christmas cheer is put on hold,

When you have no pressies for your tykes

And turn to crime (when the Gardai strike),

When the crap has really hit the fan

And Ireland's swirling down the pan,

'Don't worry,' says Brian, 'you'll be grand –

A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.'


dkenny@tribune.ie