Ireland’s presidential races have occasionally brushed up against the surreal, but with the 2025 season fast approaching, the announcement from Dustin the Turkey—a beloved puppet and mainstay of Irish television—elevates things to new heights or, perhaps, plummets them straight down the rabbit hole. According to RTÉ Entertainment, Dustin has officially thrown his wing into the ring for the presidency, even claiming a breezy endorsement from outgoing President Michael D. Higgins.

From The Den to the Dáil?

Dustin chose an unorthodox platform to reveal his ambitions: the reopening of the Chadwicks hardware store in Sallynoggin, the Dublin community he credits with making him who he is. RTÉ Entertainment describes the scene, noting that Dustin spoke fondly of Sallynoggin as “one of those communities where you can leave your back door open. Now, you’ll get robbed, but you can leave your back door open. They’ll even rob the back door.” That blend of community pride and absurdist self-deprecation will likely sound familiar to anyone who remembers his tenure as a host on RTÉ’s “The Den.”

For those new to Ireland’s favorite puppet, this isn’t Dustin’s first campaign feather-ruffle. As recounted by Extra.ie, he previously ran against Mary Robinson in the late 1990s—an effort as unsuccessful as it was memorable. His sense of public obligation hasn’t faded over time. “The short answer is of course I will be running for the presidency, I am not ruling myself out because the people of Ireland have been good to me and I should be giving back to them,” Extra.ie quotes him as saying.

Presidential Endorsements (And Wardrobes)

With Fine Gael’s Mairead McGuinness and independent TD Catherine Connolly already in the race, Dustin’s candidacy stands out for reasons beyond plumage. RTÉ Entertainment highlights the puppet’s claim that Michael D. Higgins himself gave him a light nudge towards the candidacy, supposedly offering to “leave my wardrobe here at Áras an Uachtaráin because it is the exact same size, it will fit you.” In a fashion note you’re unlikely to see in ordinary campaigns, Dustin added that he would “just go straight up” and move right in.

He didn’t shy away from gently ribbing Ireland’s previous presidents either. RTÉ Entertainment recounts Dustin’s playful jab at Higgins’ poetry, promising, “I can do stupid poems in Irish like your man, Mickey D Higgins,” before segueing to wry commentary on Mary Robinson and Mary McAleese. There’s a sustained irony in his remarks—he describes Robinson as “a good president but she put a light in the window and left the door open and that’s a dangerous thing to do on the north side,” combining local humor with political reminiscence.

Community Roots and Side Hustles

It’s not all politics for Dustin: supporting his local hardware store sits right alongside presidential ambitions. RTÉ Entertainment details how Dustin explained his presence at Chadwicks, insisting he wanted to give back to the neighborhood. In a moment typical of his humor, he claimed to have put in a tender for the refurbishment but said, “apparently, some Eastern European builders got it because they turn up in time and charge a fair price and come back if there’s anything wrong with the job.” This knack for unpolished honesty (and puns) is the backbone of Dustin’s public persona.

Should the Áras an Uachtaráin not work out, Dustin has a backup plan that’s every bit as Irish: hosting Liveline. Extra.ie reports that Dustin sees himself as a natural successor to Joe Duffy, summing up the show’s ethos with, “You get all the nuts and madsters coming on and you just say, ‘dear god, dear god, dear god . . . I don’t know what to do’ and you get a quarter a million a year. It’s that simple.”

Platform: Puns and Goodwill

RTÉ Entertainment also outlines Dustin’s irreverent take on RTÉ’s strengths and weaknesses, saying, “there is only three things that RTÉ can’t do—television, radio and orchestras. Sorry—four, flip flops, they can’t do flip flops either.” He argues—again, in typical fashion—that Fair City is “the longest running comedy in Europe” and applauds how the show makes him “laugh [his] hoop off.” Whether these views constitute a campaign platform or simply reflect Dustin’s genre-bending sense of humor is—much like his candidacy—open to speculation.

The Enduring Appeal of Absurdity

It’s tempting to dismiss Dustin’s campaign as pure spectacle, but his repeated bids for office speak to something uniquely Irish: a willingness to blend sharp satire with genuine civic affection. RTÉ Entertainment and Extra.ie both detail not just the jokes, but the undercurrent of desire to “give back” and engage with the public. While Dustin surely won’t be measuring for curtains at Áras an Uachtaráin just yet, his candidacy reminds us that a little genuine weirdness in public life isn’t just tolerated—it’s quietly cherished.

Does this suggest a nation hungry for something different in its politics, or simply a culture that knows how to laugh at itself in a crowded field? Either way, few places would see a talking turkey puppet standing beside career politicians as anything other than business as usual. In the world of Irish elections, perhaps the most remarkable thing isn’t that a puppet is running, but that no one seems terribly surprised.