Kevin Myers: When will our sentimental love for the US Democrats run its full course?
THE quadrennial invitation from the US embassy arrived yesterday: it is for me to enjoy American ambassadorial hospitality while watching television coverage of the presidential election. I went once to such a night, back in the days when RTE didn't have a Washington Bureau, and commentary on the election was presented from someone's garden shed in Stillorgan, with analysis from Peig Sayers, whose second cousin had briefly lived in Boston, and the manager of a hotel, chosen because he'd once met John Wayne, and moreover, could mix a mean Manhattan.
RTE's coverage normally stopped before the first result was in, by which time Peig had fallen fast asleep with her pipe in her mouth, and Toddy was under the table singing 'Danny Boy'. So there seemed every reason to attend the embassy party.
In that distant era, the bash was actually at the embassy, with free drink served via firehoses: which was rather like giving Iran's nuclear scientists a guided tour of Strategic Air Command command centre in Omaha.