THE OLD BLARNEY

“I learned my name. I rose up. I remembered it. Now I could tell my story. It was different from the story told about me.” - Eevan Boland

In his head, Joe Biden was living his very own version of John Ford's 'The Quiet Man', albeit with the press pool standing close by, reporting and snapping his every move but he paid them no real concern unless his team of aides told him to pose a certain way or say something for the rolling cameras.

At the grand age of eighty the President's mind had becoming increasingly dream-like since being sworn in at the inauguration to become America's 46th Commander-in-Chief in January 2021. He had learnt how to zone out in a way that kept the slings and arrows of public office far away from affecting him anymore (he'd always had a thick skin anyway) and instead liked to imagine he was starring in one of those old Frank Capra or Leo McCarey movies he used to enjoy watching at Christmas with his mother.

"Maybe not Capra," 46 said out loud to himself, worrying his senior aides within earshot.

"What's that, Mr President?"

"The old commie hunter they called him, apparently. Shame he was a Republican. But then again, nobody's perfect."

The aides had become used to the President talking to himself in this manner. As long as he didn't drift when speaking in public they tried not to get too worked up about his strange, eccentric rambles.

Behind the diplomatic scenes was some attempt at a not-so-subtle, soft power play regarding the slow building narrative of America helping a united Ireland along its way in the 21st Century but Biden was far more comfortable talking about his personal affection with the old country than anything grandiose like that and even then he needed his team to remind him who was who and when was when.  

"My great-great-grandfather, Owen Finnegan, lived, worked, and raised his children here in Louth. Today, I had the chance to visit Carlingford Castle. High on a hill, it was likely the last glimpse of Ireland the Finnegans saw as they set sail for America with courage and hope."

The amount of ancestral story telling regarding Biden's Irish ancestry over the past few days on his overseas trip to Ireland was beginning to resemble a more costly episode of 'Who Do You Think You Are?' as the President went on a charm offensive with the good folk of Ireland whilst at the same time appealing to his core, loyal voters back home and wondering why the Finnegans hadn't stayed put nearly 200 years ago.

"Michael Finnegan had a chin-egain. You remember that one, Bobby?"

The presidential valet looked confused as he helped dress the President before breakfast.

"It's David, Mr President."

"No, no no. It was Michael Finnegan. I'm sure of it."

"I mean I'm David. Not Bobby."

Snapping out of the dreamy wonderland that was his own head, 46 snapped back into reality momentarily.

"Of course I know that Bobby, I mean David!"

As David tied 46's tie, the President decided to interrogate him about his own knowledge of Ireland.

"You know what they call smooth talk in Ireland?"

"I don't, Mr President. Are you going to tell me?"

Looking vacant for a brief moment, David worried that the President might have forgotten himself.

"Mr President?"

"Blarney."

Biden let the word hang in the air for a good few seconds, almost admiring it as if he could see it floating before him.

"It's a great word, isn't it? Blarney. Go ahead. Try saying it yourself."

"Blarney."

"There you go. You learn something new each day."

And with that, 46 headed off for breakfast with his security detail in tow.

Overall, things had gone about as smoothly as they could during his trip athough a most disconcerting thing happened when the American President met with his Irish counterpart, Michael Higgens.

Leaning over during a pause in their posing for the cameras, Biden leaned into Higgens' ear and whispered.

"Where you keeping those pots of gold, little fella? I know you know where they are."

Laughing off 46, the Irish President whispered back.

"If I told you, Joe, I'd have to kill you."

Biden pulled back suddenly and went extremely quiet. Not wanting to cause alarm in the room, he kept the leprechaun's threat to himself.

It was only later while in his car that he told his wife Jill about what had happened back at Aras An Uachtarain.

"He threatened me, honey."

Rolling her eyes in dismay at his confusion, she reminded her husband that he had just been talking with the Irish President.

"Oh."

46 was damned if he was going to let that leprauchaun (President or not) ruin his Irish holiday. The Blewits and The Finnegans didn't make their sacrifices for him to be told off by a greedy gnome.

Then, looking out of the window at the thousands of people lining the streets of Dublin to wave at him, the President of the United States started up singing a song to make himself feel better.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, don't you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
That's an Irish lullaby

Biden's Irish movie was turning out to be a pretty good one and he knew at the end of the day he would always be the hero returning to his ancestral home.

"Blarney."

"What's that?" Jill turned to Joe.

"Just call me King of the Blarney."