DAIL SKETCH/Frank McNally: The Irish Blood Transfusion Service's mobile clinic was visiting the Oireachtas again yesterday, but in a departure from previous occasions it didn't set up operations in Leinster House itself.
Among the reasons for the change, according to the IBTS, was that the room traditionally used has had an expensive new carpet fitted recently, and there was concern about possible accidents.
Despite what you'd think, the capacity to soak up blood is apparently not a prerequisite for new floor-covering in Leinster House. So instead the clinic set up across Kildare Street in Buswells Hotel.
Perhaps the extra distance had a detrimental effect on the numbers of politicians attending. The risk of controversy associated with political donations of any kind may have been a factor, too.
But whatever the reasons, by mid-afternoon the turnout at the clinic was lower than on a wet election day in an inner-city polling booth.
The Fine Gael TD Denis Naughten was among those on the beds. Pressed on what other politicians had donated, a clinic spokesman struggled for names and admitted that business was "rather slow".
It was clear that the transfusion service was finding it hard to locate a vein in government's legislative arm.
In fairness, the clinic was not there solely for TDs and senators: Oireachtas civil servants, ushers, and even members of the press gallery were just as welcome.
In fairness, too, the extensive travel required of politicians ruled many of them out of contention. The Fine Gael leader - Kenny of Kilimanjaro - was ineligible to donate because of his recent heroics in Tanzania. The Minister for Health was also disqualified for a period of 28 days from his return from the US because of the risk there of West Nile Virus (arguably the least of his problems).
And, of course, the more routine restrictions on blood donation, such as temporarily low haemoglobin levels, apply equally to legislators.
So for the most part, the clinic was having to make do with visits from politicians donating moral support rather than blood. Indeed, the clinic was getting more solidarity visits than Joe Higgins. And like Joe Higgins, it can only hope that the publicity will be valuable in the long term.
The IBTS were not the only people looking for blood yesterday. Journalists set up a mobile clinic at Leinster House awaiting the return from Spain of Minister of State Frank Fahey, who, like James Joyce, had opted for silence and exile, if not quite cunning, on his opposition to Micheál Martin's smoking ban.
In the event, his deep sun-tan notwithstanding, Mr Fahey looked a little drained after his homecoming interview on RTÉ's news at 1 p.m. There was concern among journalists that his haemoglobin levels might be too low to permit further blood-letting.