Ardfheis sketch:Steady on, lads. This is ridiculous. You're getting ahead of yourselves. Remember the rule: promises are made to be broken after the general election. At best, breaking them before you've been returned to office appears presumptuous; at worst, it smacks of contempt.
Fianna Fáil strategists knew this before they sent Bertie Ahern out on Saturday night. They knew the media would spot the about-turn in his speech and the Opposition would seek to punish it. They knew they risked leaving their party leader open to ridicule.
But they went for the gamble. When you have an ace like Bertie, it's worth taking. For 30 minutes, the Taoiseach stood alone in front of the television cameras and made his impassioned pitch. This was raw politics in action, crisis management in a sharp suit.
For it to work, Bertie had to summon the performance of his life, plausibly peddling the fib that Fianna Fáil does not engage in auction politics while throwing everything but the kitchen sink at the customers.
He had to conveniently overlook how, last week, his party wheeled out Séamus "Sincerity" Brennan to reiterate its deeply-held conviction that auction politics is bad for the country. Mr Sincerity could barely conceal his sadness at the way Opposition parties are debasing politics by indulging in a "vast splurge" of promises.
It was a beautiful press conference. Such integrity: "We will promise less, because our approach will deliver more."
Such principle: "We will certainly not be matching the unprecedented scale of the promises given by Fine Gael and Labour."
"Reckless," sighed Séamus. "Alarming" election politics will "bankrupt" the country. And with that, Fianna Fáil planted its flag on the high moral ground.
But by Saturday's ardfheis at the Citywest Hotel, a combination of jittery troops and poor opinion polls forced a spectacular climbdown. It was time to get more reckless than the bankruptcy boys.
Heroic Bertie was dispatched to retrieve the flag, clinging by his fingernails to the edge of credibility, but putting on a great show.
The way was carefully prepared. Mr Sincerity was given another outing. Everyone laughed when Brennan pootled towards the podium to the sound of Willie Nelson wheezing On the Road Again. We can go back to the old days or "surge forward" with Bertie Ahern, said Séamus shamelessly, as Bertie prepared to surge backward from promises made only a few days earlier.
What will Fianna Fáil do to the Opposition? "We will give them a bigger pounding than England got in Croke Park!"
Mary Coughlan, acting as MC for the evening, went in paroxysms. "I don't know what position you'll be playing Séamus," she gurgled, "but we'll be standing right behind you!"
Mercifully, proceedings cut to a video extolling the reasons we are proud to be Irish. Curiously, a young chap who featured got a cheer of recognition each time he appeared on screen.
Then it was back to Mary Coughlan, who introduced Brian Cowen. Deputy leader Cowen got the musical treatment for his big entrance. He did his best to bop up to the podium, somewhat short of puff when he started to speak.
Behind him, the Ministers sat in a long thin line, coiffed and powdered to within an inch of their dignity. Like his colleagues, Brian looked like he'd been kidnapped by a militia of trainee beauty therapists and used for experimentation. His make-up looked like it was applied by hose, hair slickly plastered to his forehead in a tonsorial homage to Jackie Healy Rae.
Like Biffo's hair, the atmosphere in the hall was strangely flat. Perhaps the crowd missed John O'Donoghue's funny speech, which was dropped this year. As a result, the Bull looked down in the mouth all evening.
Senator Cyprian Brady, Bertie's pal and running mate, showed latecomers to their seats like the chief usher at a wedding. Paddy the Plaster was spotted slipping in before the main feature. Maybe Paddy caught Cowen's eye as he was about to boast of the rich talent within the party. "We have many people of wealth," boomed Brian, to an outbreak of sniggers. "Er, of wealth of experience."
Finally, the hour was upon us. It was time for Bertie to sneak the FF flag down from the mast of the moral high ground.
He bounced up through the thrilled grassroots. "Put Your Hands Up! Put Your Hands Up!" blasted the music. This was most appropriate, in the light of the political mugging that was about to take place.
In the next half hour, brazen Bertie nicked the big policies of his rivals. Not to auction them, but to hold an end-of-sale clearance, a no-haggle giveaway to make way (hopefully) for new stock.
It's not auction politics because it's a step forward. No fresh promise was broken. It's lottery politics. Everyone is a winner. The grassroots loved it. Bertie chucked across-the-board tax cuts into the prize catalogue.
The troops have something to take to the doors now. Taking the next step forward with Fianna Fáil.
Bertie brilliantly huckstered a new line of old promises to them. But will the customers buy it? It'll be fine, once they don't step back and think.
