A Higher Class Of Friend

There they were, sitting in the pub, talking about Bertie Ahern's troubles behind his back. Your friends would do the same if it were you trying to break it off with the missus. Sure she's trying to wring every last penny out of his hide, they'd say, commiserating with your sorrows and your weak financial position.

Poor, poor finance minister, Dermot Carew said one dark and stormy night. Your man's trying to get rid of the millstone around his neck, and he's on track to become An Taoiseach. Sure and he needs a proper house to call home, if he's to be taken seriously. There's no executive mansion for the leader of Ireland, and how would it look if the President of the United States were to come for a visit? Would you serve a state dinner at the local? Ask him around to the flat where you'd whip up a full Irish for tea?

With 70K already in the bank, Bertie Ahern needed an extra shovel or two of cash to complete the dig-out, so Mr. Carew and a few other friends passed the hat and raised even more money. The Minister of Finance needed a nice house in a nice neighborhood, and that doesn't come cheap.

There's the difference right there. If it was you with 70K in the bank, your mates wouldn't even consider a fundraiser. With that kind of cash, you wouldn't need another hand-out, or so your friends would think. Doesn't that prove that you need a better class of friend?

If you were an influential finance minister on the road to becoming Ireland's Prime Minister, you'd attract a higher class of associate yourself, and you'd not be wondering how you'd pay for the new windows on the dump you already own.