Bread, roses and personal guarantees for change

Happiness is a flower in every buttonhole and a bun in every oven. Vote Labour. Goodnight.

It took Pat Rabbitte a lot longer to talk himself around to this conclusion when he set out on Saturday in pursuit of happiness and a Labour return to government.

Eight times during his speech, he asked the same question: "Are you happy?"

To those who say the State has enjoyed a huge economic boom over the past decade, the Labour leader answers: "Yes, but are you happy? Are you really happy?"

His audience was ecstatic. (Happy and they knew it - clapped their hands.) But this was only because they found comfort in their mutual sense of unhappiness and a strong belief that Pat will make things all nice again.

"Ireland can do better" was a recurring theme in his address and a slogan on the platform. It was recycled from last year's conference, along with the stunning red backdrop and most of the speech. This time though, the phrase didn't appear on Pat's podium.

Both Labour and Fine Gael are pushing the slogan for all they're worth, but it's fraught with possibilities for misinterpretation. A big photo of Pat or Enda with the message "Ireland can do better" might lead people to agree.

So instead, Pat Rabbitte made his pre-election pitch to the voters with "It's time for change" written on his lectern.

However, in an effort to reassure people that voting Labour will not usher in a new era of austerity, Pat's tie was an encouraging shade of smoked-salmon pink.

Labour Party delegates turned out in impressive numbers for this final get-together before the campaign begins.

There was an air of cautious optimism about the place, as they dared to dream their days in opposition might soon be ending.

This new confidence was reflected in the market - a stand selling red roses sold out by the afternoon.

Rabbitte and his election hopefuls performed their government audition on the same stage used by starry-eyed young warblers in RTÉ's You're a Startalent show.

However, while the showbiz wanabees attract huge weekly audiences, far fewer viewers will have tuned in to access Pat Rabbitte's routine.

Those who had nothing better to do than flick over to "You're a Tánaiste" will have seen a passionate presentation of a meaty script by a slightly nervous performer.

It was a speech of two halves. In the first, Pat harangued his listeners on the true extent of their happiness. He pointed to the relentless treadmill of work and responsibility, to traffic jams and crime, to rising bills, dirty hospitals, rundown schools, wanton violence, MRSA, poverty and the Government.

Then, having shoved everyone into a deep depression, happy Pat began hauling them out of it in the second half.

He did this with the aid of his "five commitments" - Labour's version of the Ten Commandments. Set in stone too, as far as Pat Rabbitte is concerned. "Five things I will personally guarantee," he intoned, after he took them down from the mountain of policy documents.

Thou shalt have more beds in cleaner hospitals. Thou shalt have pre-school education for all children. Thou shalt have more gardaí on the beat. Thou shalt abolish the means test for carers. Thou shalt enable more people to buy a home.

Verily, his followers were impressed but when their leader pledged to introduce a universal €1 bus fare and to cut the standard rate of tax by 2 per cent, they believed they were on their way to the promised land of Government Buildings.

"Labour's rose is a symbol of a better tomorrow, a tomorrow where there is bread and where there are roses too," quivered Pat. "Our present lopsided society is at risk of trampling on the rose."

Very moving.

At the end of his speech, Pat asked the public to help save the ickle roses from getting bruised. Coming over all Kitchener, he stared straight into the camera and declared: "We need YOU to make the change."

Everyone cheered and Mrs Rabbitte charged over to kiss her husband before she was mown down by a rapidly advancing canvas of candidates.

She was dressed in green, like most of the party's female politicians, keen to get off their mark politically with Trevor Sargent.

With happiness and harmony the order of the day, there were no outbreaks of ideological angst or good old-fashioned Labour rows. Although a heated exchange between two delegates following the evening news showed some promise.

After a frank exchange of views, one of them bore down with some urgency on RTÉ's political correspondent. "Can you a settle a bet?"

The newsman drew himself up to his full height and prepared to bring his years of experience to bear on the argument.

"Is David Davin-Power your stage name?"

No.