THE ECONOMY is experiencing more contractions than rush hour at the Rotunda, but despite the Cabinet's long confinement, there was little sign yesterday of the green shoots of humility, writes MIRIAM LORD

The country is in trouble, but it’s nothing to do with them. Global forces and the construction boom have brought us to this sorry situation. The worst, and uniquely Irish, aspects of this recession must have been dropped by the stork.

Our predicament certainly has nothing to do with Bertie Ahern and Brian Cowen. Isn’t that so? Bertie, the man who ran the country as taoiseach for 11 years, and Brian, who was his minister for finance for the latter part of that period before he took over.

Nothing to do with them? Do they really believe that? While Brian Lenihan outlined his Supplementary Budget to a packed House and a fearful audience outside, Bertie and Brian sat in the Dáil chamber – one in the back row and the other in the front – looking miserable.

From the time he arrived in to hear the speech to the time he limped outside, former taoiseach Ahern was a study in desolation. Slumped in his seat, elbow on the armrest and face in upturned hand, Bertie scarcely moved as Minister Lenihan spoke. He just stared listlessly into the distance.

All around the chamber, deputies flicked through the Budget document. Some conferred, others made notes.

Bertie never opened his copy.

He may have looked dejected for a number of reasons. It might have been thoughts of how he was the pilot who ran the ship onto the rocks. He could have been longing wistfully to be back in the Taoiseach’s chair. Or it might have been the simple fact that, as a result of the measures brought in by Lenihan, Bertie will lose a massive €120,000 in pension and other payments.

Down in the front row, Taoiseach Cowen didn’t look much happier.

As the Budget details were revealed, Cowen planted his left elbow on the armrest and dropped his chin into his hand. Like Bertie, he didn’t appear to be listening either, but had a pensive, faraway look on his face.

The Taoiseach left his copy of the Budget, unopened, on the ledge in front of him.

This was a day the country had been dreading. This Budget was hugely, if not eagerly, anticipated. People knew they were about to face The Knife of Brian.

As Minister Lenihan said at the beginning of his address: “We are now facing the challenge of this nation’s life.” Opposition politicians marked this critical juncture in the history of Ireland with a very mature response.

With citizens tuned into their TVs, waiting apprehensively for what might follow, Fine Gael and Labour deputies indulged in a noisy, childish and pointless row.

Just as Brian Lenihan was about to rise to his feet, some deputies noticed journalists in the press gallery had copies of the Budget speech. Traditionally, it is distributed to TDs when the Minister starts to speak. The same goes for members of the media.

Perhaps it was the tension of the occasion, or sheer stupidity, but the sight of hacks with the document, while their copies had yet to be distributed, set Opposition politicians into a rage.

Fine Gael’s James Reilly almost spontaneously combusted with anger at the implied snub. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he bellowed at the Government, red faced and trembling.

He was joined by a succession of affronted colleagues. James Bannon, Kathleen Lynch, Ruairí Quinn, Paul Kehoe and Emmet Stagg were among those screaming for justice.

Minister Lenihan looked on, bemused. Enda Kenny expressed his disgust. Brian Cowen looked bewildered. Bertie – it had to be that monumental pay cut – was already catatonic.

Finally, Eamon Gilmore stood up and showed a bit of common sense. He said it was about time that the House got down to the serious business of the day.

At which point, Opposition deputies copped themselves on.

Did they even stop to consider how petty and petulant they must have looked to viewers? At least, eight minutes late, the speech got under way. Brian Lenihan could hardly be heard above the rustling of pages, as deputies from all sides flicked through the document.

It was only when the Minister got to the bit about changing expenses and committee payments and pension entitlements for Oireachtas members that the place suddenly went quiet. Very quiet.

Thereafter, the speech was received in relative silence.

Tax and levy increases, charges and cuts piled up for hard-pressed middle-income earners.

The atmosphere was strangely flat. This time, there was no standing ovation from the Government for Minister Lenihan. Brian Cowen’s Government had their cough considerably softened after their last bid at a corrective budget.

The troops sat on their hands.

Government deputies fled the chamber and discussed the Budget in huddles. There was an uncertainly about how it would be received. Nobody was sure.

The Cabinet was wheeled out for a press conference in time for the six o’clock news. All of them were there in Government Buildings, sitting at a long table.

A sign of unity. But they looked very worried. There was no sense of confidence from them. No sense that they were gung-ho about what they had just done.

The press conference lasted 20 minutes and was most noticeable for the body language of the two Green Ministers. John Gormley and Eamon Ryan leaned back from the table. Their Fianna Fáil counterparts leaned forward. If you looked down the line, you couldn’t see the two Greens.

They both looked like they didn’t want to be there. John Gormley left early.

The real consequences of the Budget will bite in pay packets next month. “Vicious” is how some are describing it.

One suspects Bertie Ahern might not be as kind.