After four adjournments on the banking debate, the Opposition grew more angry and the Government grew more sheepish, writes Miriam Lord
FOR THE two Brians, it was the chance, at long last, to earn their leadership spurs.
As the country teetered on the brink of a banking collapse on Monday night, Taoiseach Cowen and Minister Lenihan stepped in and assumed control.
In the early hours of yesterday morning, they pulled in the finance house big wigs, summoned the Civil Service mandarins, held a conference call with the Cabinet and finally thrashed out a rescue package as dawn was breaking.
Until then, the Taoiseach and his Minister for Finance had been battling growing criticism that they aren't up to the job. But after pulling their all-nighter, they emerged with their reputations greatly enhanced.
Not only that, but after the banking bosses ran blubbing to them for help, the two Brians could bask in the knowledge that they had made politics relevant again. Gurus of the greasy till, who once had us believe they were the nation's true leaders, were forced to turn to the Government when their bubble burst.
So they were sensitive enough not to swagger about the Dáil yesterday, Cowen and Lenihan must have been feeling very pleased with themselves after their night's work.
An emergency Bill would be enacted and through the House before the markets opened today. One in the eye for Capitol Hill, they were thinking to themselves around Kildare Street.
They could have been forgiven for rounding off their Credit Institutions (Financial Support) Bill 2008 with the smug line: "American papers please copy." But first, the Bill had to be passed. And that's where it began to go wrong for the two Brians.
Their urgent legislation was to be ready for debate at teatime. It wasn't. It took four adjournments of the House before the Dáil convened to discuss it. With each deferment, the Opposition grew more angry and the Government grew more sheepish.
By 9pm, when a deeply apologetic Taoiseach and Chief Whip told the chamber debate would not begin before 10pm, Enda Kenny declared the situation was a shambles.
"The issue is high farce. Its absolute chaos!" fumed the Fine Gael leader, as Government deputies looked on, mortified.
Eamon Gilmore was equally annoyed. "Why are we going through this high drama? Let's stop the codology for once and for all!" Ministers were whispering hurriedly to each other. The two Brian looked exhausted. Brian Cowen eventually conceded that the Bill would not go through overnight.
It was a mess, and shouldn't have happened. Suddenly, the authority gained by the Taoiseach and his Minister for Finance after Monday night, and following Cowen's strong performance during Leaders' Questions, evaporated. And all this, when they had a willing Opposition who just wanted, and were entitled to, a debate.
No more liquidity lunches for the bankers.
That's what the Opposition really wanted to hear yesterday.
If the Government wants to give the bankers a dig-out, well, so be it. But how can we be sure that they won't go out and blow the money again? In a rare show of unanimity, TDs agreed it would be a catastrophe if lack of cash flow - or access to liquidity - were to bring down an Irish bank. Sadly, a security blanket of sorts will have to be spread under the well-shod feet of the high-flyers responsible for the mess.
But extending a State guarantee to the finance houses should not come without terms and conditions, argued Enda Kenny and Eamon Gilmore.
Eamon, once more outshining Enda, asked the Taoiseach: "If you are proceeding to hand over the deeds of this country to bail out the banks, what are we getting in return?" It's a lot of money. Hundreds of billions.
Nothing to do with money, argued Brian Cowen, who woke yesterday from the sleeping sickness that has afflicted him since he became Taoiseach.
"I have not handed over money to any bank," he declared.
Good to see him carrying on that fine tradition set by his predecessors, Charlie Haughey and Bertie Ahern.
No, Ireland's reputation is worth much more than mere filthy lucre. "I have provided the reputation of the State to the banks," he said.
Thanks to his Herculean efforts, supporting the fat cats on his shoulders, stability will be restored to our shaky banking system.
Many Dáil deputies are deeply interested in the future of the banks, judging by the numbers pacing the corridors with their mobile phones pressed to their ears.
Former stockbroker, Senator Shane Ross was much in demand. Everywhere he went, politicians were creeping up to him to hear his views. Shane could have made a tidy profit, had he decided to charge by the minute.
Sinn Féin's Martin Ferris was also much in demand. He bore the "you're an expert on withdrawing money from banks" jibe with giggles of "don't be asking me!" Meanwhile, one Border deputy told us how he was taken aback this weekend by the number of constituents who called to his clinic asking what they should do about their funds in bank accounts. "Half of them were in with me the week before, worried about their social welfare entitlements." Back in the chamber, Cowen took leaders' questions, continuing his uninspiring trait of reading replies from Civil Service drafted scripts until Eamon Gilmore managed to get under his skin.
Biffo abandoned the script and began to speak with passion. At ten to four in the afternoon, it looked like he was finally coming into his own.
"The greatest risk to the stability of the financial system in this country was the risk of doing nothing. Of not making a move," he said, stabbing the air with his finger. His Government, in introducing their emergency measures to shore up the banks, was moving, and moving fast.
Gilmore unleashed some marvellous soundbites. But in the end, he let the cat out of the bag: "If that's the way it is; that's the way it is," he conceded to the Taoiseach.
So off barrelled Biffo to put the finishing touches to the legislation, which would be debated by the house from teatime, and hopefully passed into law sometime around midnight.
The deadline of 6pm for the debate to start came and passed. The Opposition was most unhappy. "Joan Burton has colleagues and advisers on standby," complained Eamon Gilmore.
More deadlines came and went. At 7.22pm, former deputy Joe Higgins, a socialist, surfaced, by way of e-mail, calling for the banks to be nationalised. Hooray! At least somebody was happy.
The atmosphere was getting very fraught. Not least for the Senators, who would have to deal with the emergency Bill after it came through the Dáil. Some went off to have a nap, anticipating a late night. We had visions of them wearing night shirts and caps and snoring in a big dormitory, like Snow White's dwarfs. Others went to the bar, seeking access to liquidity.
If this is supposed to be the soft landing, one can only imagine the state our bruised fundamentals would be in after a hard one.
Mary O'Rourke donned a fetching glittery scarf over her black suit for the occasion.
"In a recession, one must sparkle!" she carolled.