Like a drowning man in the flooding basement of the National Aquatic Centre (NAC), John O’Donoghue has been clinging to a sheet of paper as though it were a life raft. The letter the sports minister hopes will keep him afloat is an “engineering report” that claims that there are, currently, no leaks from the cracked swimming pools in the Abbotstown complex. The document was produced on behalf of Rohcon, the builders of a grossly overbudget facility that seems set to cost the taxpayer at least €100m.

O’Donoghue’s bravado in attempting to use what amounts to a partial one-page memo to deflect criticism of the disaster-prone project is truly astounding. It suggests that the government does not yet realise that the cash-leaking aquatic centre has become the defining symbol of its tenure in office, a scandalously wasteful shambles.

“This (report) flies in the face of the wild allegations that have been made in the Dail, the media and elsewhere,” O’Donoghue declared. Yet, in reality, the report, which was delivered in the form of a letter to Rohcon, was compiled following a cursory examination of parts of the complex by an engineering firm last Monday.

While they could find no evidence of structural defects, the engineers confirmed the existence of swimming pool cracks, leaking pipe joints and ponding water in the basement. Rohcon insists that these problems are the responsibility of Dublin Waterworld, the centre’s operator.

The engineers’ letter concludes: “Our inspection was visual, confined to the areas described and did not include areas that were covered, overexposed or inaccessible. We cannot therefore report any such areas free from defect.”

Apparently, this is the best that O’Donoghue can put forward by way of rebuttal following numerous investigations that have revealed outrageous failures in the planning, design and construction of the aquatic centre — from which the roof blew off earlier this year.

After the announcement that London is to host the 2012 Olympic Games, O’Donoghue was quick to herald Ireland’s opportunity. “By 2012,” he said, “Ireland will have available a range of modern, well-managed facilities of the highest quality that can be utilised by competitors from other countries.” And flying pigs will be recognised as Olympic athletes.

North unites to beat its breast

In a rare moment of cultural agreement, bawdy tabloids and bluestocking worthies have united in foam-flecked condemnation of Orlaith McAllister, the frisky Belfast-born Big Brother contestant.

Dubbed “one of the biggest slappers Ireland has ever produced” by the Evening Herald, the 26-year-old surgically enhanced model has also incurred the wrath of the Free Presbyterian church and several Northern Irish politicians.

Leading the charge is Jim Rodgers, an Ulster Unionist councillor and former lord mayor of Belfast, who says: “She needs to remember that people in Northern Ireland are fairly conservative and don’t take kindly to what she is doing.”

McAllister is an undeniable sexual exhibitionist, displaying a preoccupation with breasts that would put the average 13-year-old boy to shame.

As lord mayor, Rodgers led a noisy campaign to have a series of honours bestowed on George Best, a man hardly renowned for his pelvic restraint.

Anti-drugs campaign is off with fairy tales

Once again demonstrating its uncanny ability to speak to young adults in the authentic language of the street, the government has launched a “cocaine awareness campaign” that communicates through the medium of . . . nursery rhymes.

Targeted at the 18-35 age group, the poster drive uses such trendy and influential characters as Little Jack Horner and Mary (of lamb-having fame) to convey the message that there’s no “fairy-tale ending” with cocaine.

This patronising drivel is the retarded brainchild of the Health Promotion Unit, the trend-setting geniuses who brought us the laughably twee Cool Choices antidrinking campaign some years ago. By addressing young people as though they were dim-witted infants, these would-be hipsters only highlight the extent of their exile from contemporary reality.

Rather like the diminutive Mr Horner, it’s time they pulled out their thumbs.

In a wide-ranging encounter, the taoiseach and the Pope discussed numerous issues of mutual concern, from Northern Ireland to the European constitution. Curiously, however, the topic of clerical sexual abuse does not appear to have been raised.

As premier of a republic that has indemnified the church against abuse lawsuits at vast expense to taxpayers, Ahern could have expected a public thank you from the Pope, at the very least. But it seems both men would rather not mention the subject.

“The Catholic church in Ireland,” wrote Ahern in a newspaper article to mark his papal audience, “has been a teacher, a nurse, a doctor and a friend to the poor and friendless.”

This is true. However, it has also been a tyrant, a bully, a sexual predator and an exploiter of the poor and friendless. A mature relationship between Ireland and the Vatican would acknowledge both guises.

They’re an uninspiring quintet of karaoke performers who never deviate from a song sheet prepared by unseen puppet-masters. It should be no surprise, therefore, that Sinn Fein’s Dail contingent have decided to embrace their boyband roots by embarking on a roadshow. Sean Crowe, Martin Ferris, Arthur Morgan, Caoimhghin O Caolain and Aengus O Snodaigh are bringing their unique talents to party strongholds for “special evenings”. These are not political meetings but rather social, at which the faithful can bask in the charisma of the fascinating five. The fun started last Wednesday at the Sliabh Beagh Community hotel in Monaghan, where music was provided by Shanachie. Can a stadium tour be far behind?

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