I had thought of writing about Nama but I was in France early last week and the dominant story there made me reflect on another subject.
What I believe the press terms the "silly season" is upon us, which means that, for the next month, almost any old nonsense will warrant reams of news copy. It is a worrying time for people in the public eye. Last week the collapse of French President, Nicolas Sarkozy, while jogging took French media interest in that country's diminutive and colourful leader to new heights.
The French press is obsessed with Sarkozy. Last week's incident prompted an orgy of speculation on what may lie behind his health problems. Needless to say, his wife was at the centre of most of the analysis. It was Carla Bruni who had insisted he stop eating chocolate and hired a personal trainer to get him fit. Worse still, she had introduced a new diet, allowing him to eat only small amounts of food at any meal, and completely killing his penchant for deserts.
This appears to be one of the perils of marrying a beautiful and famous woman who just happens to be 13 years your junior.
The media in France used the incident to facilitate a more comprehensive review of Bruni's influence on her husband. They know she likes being the First Lady. Life at the Elysée Palace suits her desire to be famous, and much of the media comment speculated that her determination to help her husband to get into better physical shape was about preparing him for the 2012 election. The media believes that, never mind Nicolas himself, Carla is determined to secure a second term and will mould her husband in a manner that will guarantee it.
Elements of the media in Ireland are becoming as intrusive and as likely to engage in the same nonsense about public figures. This trend will be all the more acute in the weeks ahead. Stories that at other times would warrant a few paragraphs on the inside pages can, in mid-summer, become front-page drama.
This time last year, the taoiseach, Brian Cowen, just a few months after taking office, was hounded by the press on a family holiday in the west of Ireland. Cowen is the polar opposite to Nicolas Sarkozy. We know he likes pints and golf when he is away. He likes walking with his family. He likes reading. He is happy to stay in a mobile home in Connemara and could not give a proverbial you-know-what if his peers across Europe aspire to grander things. His wife appears to have no ambitions for public profile and there is no evidence of her managing his dietary or fitness programmes. Word is, however, that if Carla Brunei wanted someone with a bit of edge and fun, Brian from the bog might have been a much better fit than her Cher Nicolas.
There are aspects of the job of taoiseach with which Brian Cowen seems distinctly uncomfortable. He is not confident on camera. His fluency with the spoken word is lost when a camera is thrust in front of him. Despite his tough demeanor, he comes across as shy and reserved. Is that because he is? The stories about his private personality are revealing: the pints with close friends inside and outside politics, the story-telling and the legendary mimicry.
Cowen's style is clearly as far removed from Sarkozy's as Barack Obama's is from Gordon Brown's. The taoiseach craves privacy and enjoys simple pleasures, while the French president is a limelight junkie with a wife for whom stardom is in her DNA. In the case of Sarkozy, therefore, his private life is "fair game" for the media and it would be hard for him and his wife to justify complaints about media intrusion.
In contrast, Brian Cowen is entitled to privacy for his family and personal life. The fact that he is taoiseach should not give the media free rein to invade his personal space, examine and comment on his choice of holiday home, or go where he is staying and photograph him and his family in holiday mode. The same privacy should apply to Enda Kenny and all political leaders. Provided there is nothing improper about how they spend their holidays, they are as entitled as anyone else to consider their private family life to be off-limits.