‘This is our Ireland’ speech at Axis Theatre

Ever the alchemist, Dean Scurry got Damien Dempsey, John Connors, Maverick Sabre and me to work with a group of remarkable young men at The Axis Theatre in Ballymun. That led to months of ongoing conversations about the nature of our nation and the political paralysis of our people. Larger meetings with leaders of the arts were sometimes wonderful but often just exercises in frustration. Invariably it would end up with me, Dean, John and Damo being perceived as too extreme in our insistence that whatever was to be done, it had to be on a grand scale. It would have to be something beneficial to our most vulnerable. But it would also have to be something that might awaken our national dormant spirit. It was an absurd ambition. A fantasy. An impossibility.

Months later, the call came through. “It’s happening.” That’s all Dean said. “And we need you to write the words.” This remarkable man had been working relentlessly with the equally remarkable Brendan Ogle and together, along with innumerable unsung heroes and heroines who have been working for decades to fight injustices, they had set in motion a philosophical, humanistic and, most importantly, pragmatic plan to protect our most vulnerable and inspire our collective spirit. I went to a bar and tried to write. Nothing came out. I called Dean and asked who am I writing for? “Who do you want?” I wanted the most famous working class Dublin artist there has ever been, Jim Sheridan. “I’m on it.” Dean said.

Ordered another drink but the words wouldn’t come. All the standard bullshit that goes with fear and doubt and ego and vanity and hubris and judgement was kicking in but then the simple realisation hit. This is not about fear. This is about strength. Just tell the truth. The words came. Called Dean. Quietly read the words over the phone to him as the full bar was singing Christmas songs. He listened to the end then whispered, “Shivers, brother, shivers.”

Next day it was happening. We met at the Unite Office. A stunning group of people. Hours of discussions and decisions. Then the words came up. Curtis ‘Fifty Cent’ Jackson has been shot twice but he said the only man he’s ever been sacred of is Jim Sheridan. That’s how tough Sheridan is. He is also a beautiful, courageous humanist and a hero to many. Including me. Some folk fought for the words, others didn’t. It was too long. Too extreme. Too much. The final decision was to keep it much simpler. When Sheridan opens his mouth people listen anyway. He doesn’t need a hack. The words were in the bin but the magic was happening. We walked to the GPO and Jim and Damo and Glen Hansard captured the mood better than any hack. That night the NAMA building was taken and something magical was born.

Then last night I get another call from Dean. There’s a comedy gig in the Axis Theatre, he says, where we started this conversation all that time ago, and he wants me to read the words to the audience. A comedy audience? Only he could think it was a good idea. Only he could make me put the fear aside and do it. Only he could know that comedy audience would give those words a standing ovation. This is our Ireland.