The Final Seat Numbers For The 32nd Dáil

So the general election of 2016 is finally, finally over. The Labour Party has managed to scrape one last seat in the constituency of Longford-Westmeath following days of recounts and legal threats, thus gaining full speaking rights in the 32nd Dáil and one more TD than it’s new arch nemesis, the AAA-PBP. If anyone saw the repugnant performances of former Labour boss, Pat Rabbitte, on television over the last six days it is obvious how important the latter position was to the routed party he once led. And which he and his entryist colleagues eventually hollowed out and destroyed just as they did with the Workers Party and Democratic Left (not to mention Official Sinn Féin before it became the WP, in the case of some of his older cronies).

TDanna Elected To Dáil Éireann, 2016 General Election

By way of review, listed below is the full number of Teachtaí Dála elected to Dáil Éireann in the 2016 general election by party or group affiliation with the seat changes from the pre-election quantities shown in parenthesis. The number of TDanna signed up to the anti-water charges campaign, Right2Change, is indicated by an asterix.

50 = Fine Gael (-26)        

44 = Fianna Fáil  (+24)

23 = Sinn Féin (+9) *23  

7 = Labour Party (-30)    

6 = AAA-PBP (+2) *3      

6 = Independent Alliance [Not a registered party]           

4 = Independents 4 Change (+4) *4        

3 = Social Democrats (-/+0)         

2 = Green Party (+2)      

1 = Workers and Unemployed Action (-/+0) *1

12 = Independents [No party or group affiliation]

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2 comments

  1. Small round hard stones click 
    under my heels, 
    seeding grasses thrust 
    bearded seeds 
    into trouser cuffs, cans, 
    trodden on, crunch 
    in tall, purple-flowering, 
    amiable weeds. 

    District Six. 
    No board says it is: 
    but my feet know, 
    and my hands, 
    and the skin about my bones, 
    and the soft labouring of my lungs, 
    and the hot, white, inwards turning 
    anger of my eyes. 

    Brash with glass, 
    name flaring like a flag, 
    it squats 
    in the grass and weeds, 
    incipient Port Jackson trees: 
    new, up-market, haute cuisine, 
    guard at the gatepost, 
    whites only inn. 

    No sign says it is: 
    but we know where we belong. 

    I press my nose 
    to the clear panes, know, 
    before I see them, there will be 
    crushed ice white glass, 
    linen falls, 
    the single rose. 

    Down the road, 
    working man’s cafe sells 
    bunny chows. 
    Take it with you, eat 
    it at a plastic table’s top, 
    wipe your fingers on your jeans, 
    spit a little on the floor: 
    it’s in the bone. 

    I back from the 
    glass, 
    boy again, 
    leaving small mean O 
    of small mean mouth. 
    Hands burn 
    for a stone, a bomb, 
    to shiver down the glass. 
    Nothing’s changed.

    Tatemkhulu Afrika

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