Since I believe that this nation is largely controlled and operated by bureaucracy anyway and that elections rarely have many major effects on our daily lives after the fuss dies down, I tend to observe them wryly rather than with passion. And that way they are very entertaining indeed.

Take the Clare constituency in which I reside now. It has a powerful electoral tradition altogether.

It was the first election victory, for example, of the young Eamon de Valera and before him of Daniel O’Connell. Rarely does it not produce an excitement.

Three elections ago it elected a flamboyant non-native, a Doctor Bhamji

as a TD (Member of Parliament) for Labor. He was a psychiatrist.

Last time out Fianna Fail brutally enough “shafted” one of its own at the selection convention and paid a heavy price afterwards. He was earthy farmer James Breen, as I told ye about last week, the salt of the earth, already a local councilor.

And angry Breen ran as an independent candidate. He did not feature at all in the opinion polls, but when election day came there was James topping the poll, surprising them all. Donal Carey, a legendary former Fine Gael minister hotly tipped for re-election, was the big loser on the other side of the fence.

In the current election the name de Valera is not on the list for the first time in decades because Sile de Valera has retired.

But you can bet on a surprise in the Banner, as Clare is known, before all is over. And you can relish the fact that the fighting is sharper between candidates of the same party than it is with political opponents, with all sorts of ploys being employed and deployed all over the sprawling constituency.

And the wry eye has much to see. Take the profusion of posters along all the roads.

I noticed today that all the Fine Gael candidates seem to have been photographed in the same field on the same sunny day! All their visages appear against the background of a sun-drenched mountain that would have benefited from the application of an (organic) weed killer.

Above their heads there is a blue sky which is packed with clouds of the fluffy cumulus family. That’s a mistake in my view because, this close to the coast, such clouds invariably burst open early in the evening and drench everything in sight with cold rain. If you are going to have blue skies over Fine Gael then keep the clouds out of them for much better effect!

Our glorious Taoiseach (Prime Minister) Bertie Ahern, on the other hand, started off his campaign under heavy fire about his personal finances. His back foot is heavily mired just now, but knowing him he will probably emerge from the battle smelling of roses and a clear winner.

Bertie does that. The more mud they throw at him the more they lose ground in the opinion polls.

He’s still by far the sharpest tool in the government box, the most popular politician in the country. He’s so popular that the opposition parties are afraid to attack him, leaving this to his right-ish coalition partners, the Progressive Democrats. That process of semi-disengagement from Bertie by the agonizing Progressive Democrats is currently the best show in town!

But Bertie’s posters, spread throughout the entire nation by the thousand, do not feature blue skies at all. His visage is seen against a background of almost Stygian darkness and gloom! And there he is, atop that doom and gloom, bravely smiling away.

One of the local Fine Gael contenders, newcomer Tony Mulcahy, a decent man from Shannon, is a mustachioed man. Near my home Tony is glaring across a traffic roundabout at Bertie above a slogan saying “Not All Politicians Are the Same,” looking uncannily like a Mafia hitman himself.

Local Sinn Fein newcomer Ann Prior, meanwhile, a young dark-haired lady, occupies a lot of lampposts nearby, not smiling at all, just looking down at us with hopeful Republican eyes. You can tell a lot about elections by the roadside posters.

Incidentally, for what it is worth, one of the elements which is fascinating this catcher in the wry currently is the likely performance nationally of Sinn Fein. A gut feeling tells me that they are going to do very well indeed, maybe even creating a big enough rump for Bertie to eye enviously when he is looking for a coalition partner at the end of the action.

Stranger things by far have been happening recently, both sides of the border, and such a coalition might not last very long, but even its fashioning would be as interesting at least as what is happening up in Stormont.

Though polling is set soon, May 24, I can promise ye that there will be hectic exchanges for the next week not just in Clare but everywhere. And there will be episodes of great craic amidst all the serious stuff.

When the leaders go to the country on the stomp they will all be surrounded by more spin doctors than there are real doctors in the health service, which will be a major issue everywhere.

And, maybe sadly, their cavalcades will roll through towns and villages and hamlets from which all of them, without exception, have become in-creasingly distanced from.

It is because the hungry dynamic of Greater Dublin is now the dominant force in their existences. The farming vote, so powerful in the past, is now decimated. The traditional rural vote for both big parties, too, is well eroded. There are more don’t knows and undecideds right up to polling day.

And that’s a healthier thing too. It’s all to play for.