"Size 11. Black. Laced." Bertie's boudoir secret was out. Big feet. The gentlemen present raised approving eyebrows and waited for the Taoiseach to arrive so he could be fitted for his new shoes.
The ladies present prayed he remembered clean socks.
Before we go any further, it cannot be stressed strongly enough that the Fianna Fáil Parliamentary Party meeting in Westport is not a pre-election shindig for the troops.
It is about formulating policy and deep discussion about important matters and keeping up the good work going forward.
Who better than the party leader to sum up the mood of this serious occasion. "Every day I get up, I try to make a difference. I try to do things that are important to the country."
Words spoken after his trip down town, where he nearly had his eye taken out by a flying champagne cork and his drink-sodden companions returned to the hotel reeking of booze.
No. We defy anyone to say that yesterday's chaotic skite through Westport is proof that the general election campaign has started. Bertie's bustling walkabout was just a case of an overexcited Dub out taking the country air with phot'ographers, camera crews and colour writers in tow.
It was not remarkably similar to those high-octane Ahern walkabouts we saw during the last election. Accordingly, it was not chilling to realise that there might be nine more months of this slapstick to come.
But back to Michael O'Donnell's shoe emporium - "an Old Fianna Fáil shop", according to a local cumann member - where the Taoiseach went to pick up his photo-opportunity. Sorry, new shoes.
Bertie would be choosing them himself, marvelled the proprietor, sweeping a proud arm along his extensive stock.
Slip-ons were out, everyone agreed.
Cinderella Ahern duly arrived and was rushed to a seat in the corner, whereby a pair of sensible Ecco shoes were produced. To a chorus of gasps, Bertie removed his well-worn brogues to reveal a pair of pristine socks and no protruding toes. In the background, his personal assistant beamed the smile of a woman who knows she is on top of her game.
The crowd leaned in as the shoe went on. A hush descended. "Are they soft shoes?" whispered Cork deputy Billy Kelleher, who now seems to think he's an all-round entertainer following his vocally challenged appearance on Charity You're a Star. Bertie swivelled his ankles and gingerly prodded a bunion.
"They have to last exactly 11 months - the election is on the 29th of June," advised the Taoiseach, who doesn't have the best head for figures. This also applies to his shoe size. When the measuring machine was taken out, the size displayed registered lower than the original boast.
That's men for you.
With his "canvassing shoes" in the bag, Bertie moved on to the next photo-opportunity: racing across to Bridge Street, dispensing handshakes and kisses until Fine Gael's irrepressible Michael Ring ambushed him. High security surrounds this meeting in Westport, with a Garda roadblock on the approach road to the hotel. A Michael Ring of steel. It didn't work. "Welcome to my town," bellowed Deputy Ring, explaining he had just finished holding his clinic up the road, and omitting to mention that certain reporters had phoned him with Mr Ahern's precise location.
Bertie pressed on, greeting total strangers like long-lost friends. He ran into a butcher's shop. The butcher showed him a tray of mince. Bertie duly marvelled at it for the cameras. "It's as blue as the sky," declared an FF grassroot.
He must have been referring to the political allegiance of the owner, as the meat looked fine.
Two cafes and a pharmacy later, the non-election mode Soldiers of Destiny pitched up in the Portwest shop, where the Taoiseach was presented with a weatherproof jacket. Nothing to do with the forthcoming election, mind.
So that's a pair of shoes and an anorak. And not as much as a ha'penny changed hands. He paused in front of a jewellers, but ethics in public office must have crossed his mind.
So he crossed the road and landed into the middle of a scrum outside the Supervalu supermarket.
Most of the staff were lined up outside the front doors, with two ladies holding bottles of champagne and Minister for the Environment Dick Roche grinning dementedly behind them. Supervalu, it transpired, are sponsors of the Tidy Towns competition, and Westport had just been declared national winners an hour earlier at a ceremony in Dublin.
Junior Minister Batt O'Keeffe was left behind to make the announcement, so his senior man could bask in the glory on the ground. Bertie joined the throng and the two ladies clamped their hands over the corks until a signal came to celebrate.
But there was no sign of it coming. So the Boss detached himself from a radiant Dick Roche and approached them for a chat, causing such excitement that the two spontaneously popped their corks and sprayed champagne over the Fianna Fáil handlers and photographers.
With corks narrowly clipping his ears, he instinctively recoiled, tripping on the pavement and into the arms of Roche. Oh, joy.
But this was not electioneering. Merely a bracing little stroll around the town.
Just because the Fianna Fáil leader is aiming for the electoral three-in-a-row doesn't mean he can't squat in a bed of French marigolds to have his picture taken.
After such excitement, his mid-afternoon press conference was rather dull.
Thankfully, Minister for Finance Brian Cowen was on hand to give a rundown on the Exchequer returns for August.
The nation is awash with tax receipts. The money will be used to reduce borrowing. There will not be a big pre-election splurge. At least not this year.
He refused to be drawn on next year's plans, but the smile on his face said it all. For this week, though, the buzz word is "prudence".
Prudence of another sort from Minister for Agriculture Mary Coughlan, who fled when she saw a photographer in the foyer, exclaiming: "You're not taking a picture of me with a cup of tea. I know what you guys are like."