"It's lovely to see a pretty face in politics! Don't suppose you're single?"

It's not the usual response Ireland's election hopefuls get on the doorstep. But for Rebecca Moynihan this text from a potential voter is an occupational hazard.

"You have to laugh, I suppose. I presume if you're a male candidate you don't get that sort of stuff.

"Attention on looks is flattering but it's not good for women collectively because if you think you can go into the city council and get by on a smile you're mistaken."

As one of seven women running in the South West Inner City ward, the Labour candidate has found herself in a Lovely Girls competition for politicians. Suffice to say, red-blooded constituents are finding the vista on their doorsteps all the brighter when candidates like Fianna Fail's Catherine Ardagh and Fine Gael's Clare Byrne come aknocking.

Even on a dreary, wet day around the houses in the Fatima Regeneration Project, the local candidate lightens the mood.

"I'll vote for you, I hope you get in. I'd like to see a woman getting in," admits Charles McGee when he answers the door to Rebecca.

His neighbour Rory Lawrence is also supportive: "She's local, from the area, sure why not? She'll do better than most of them in there."

Labour's Lovely Girl is a dab hand at talking up her local connections, having been born and bred in Rialto. Within 30 seconds of knocking on any door, she pulls in yet another voter thanks to her family roots and knowledge of the area.

A cynic might raise an eyebrow at her enthusiasm, but she's got it down to a tee.

"Don't knock on that door because she has a bad hip and it takes her ages to get downstairs," she instructs her team of eager canvassers.

Considering the drab political landscape of grey suits and greyer faces, the young bloods like Rebecca have managed to turn the staid arena of local elections into something of a beauty pageant.

A few wolf whistles emanate from the top of a nearby building site, but she appears not to notice.

Enthusiasm

Be warned, the Lovely Girls of local politics don't take kindly to being branded. This one in particular is no pushover when it comes to holding her own in a debate.

She explained: "As soon as people start talking to me they know I'm clued in. I have heard of people on the doorsteps who just aren't up to the job, but they'll be found out soon enough." Though only 27, she already has 10 years of Labour party membership under her belt.

Having worked as a communications executive with Concern for five years, Rebecca felt the blow of the recession earlier this year and is currently attempting to adjust to unemployment.

She earned the Labour nomination seven months ago, and has since knocked on every door in the ward in a bid to get the ball rolling.

The objective is simple: "I grew up around here in the early 90s and I saw the extent of the drug problem. My sister and brother's generations were almost wiped out by it. I don't want my kids to grow up like that."

Her enthusiasm grates on some nerves, particularly the long-suffering resident of one drug-ravaged street.

"I'm not voting for anyone. Nobody can do anything with this country," the woman says to an unflinching Ms Moynihan. "It's gone that bad. It's still a drug haven".

Two minutes later, having stood in the path of the Lovely Girl's gale-force enthusiasm, the despondent resident is having second thoughts.

"Okay, maybe I'll give it a thought. Fair play to you for doing it anyway".

As Moynihan heads for the next street, another wolf whistle ripples through the air. She's too busy aiming a 1,000-watt smile at the passing children to notice.

- Aoife Finneran