'Of course it wasn't a fee." Even Bertie wouldn't have the brass neck to tell that to the Dáil. So he said it in Cavan yesterday, depriving an already fuming Opposition of the chance to go into total meltdown.
It was simply an unsolicited whip-around. Collected on Bertie's behalf by his friends, the very best friends a bloke could have.
Bertie, when minister for finance, says he never asked for stg£8,000 after he addressed a group of businesspeople in Manchester in 1994.
Now he's getting hammered for being an accidental recipient.
"Some of my old friends were over there, and on the one night, they collected it," he explained.
The kindness of Bertie's friends silenced Michael McDowell yesterday.
He had to go into the Chamber and perform the humiliating trick of biting his lip while simultaneously mourning the loss of his teeth.
On his first day in the hot seat as Tánaiste, Michael was welcomed by a sneering Opposition with complete uproar and promises of more to come. There were high hopes he might be goaded into blowing a gasket.
(Bertie, by the way, was on a tour of Cavan, where his presence in various hamlets was announced beforehand by a man driving an SUV with speakers on the roof and roaring "Come out and meet your Taoiseach!" At Mullagh, he was given a box of vegetables. More unsolicited dig-outs.)
But back to docile McDowell's Dáil debut. This should have been his day of triumph. Instead, he sat uncomfortably in his seat, as would be expected of a Rottweiller who has just returned from an unpleasant visit to the vet.
Over the next week, Leinster House will discover whether the operation can be reversed.
The newly manageable Tánaiste resisted any impulses to stray from the preordained path of the order of business.
There was no sign of the old aggression. Deputies across the floor got angrier and angrier over his refusal to comment on the money Bertie trousered for the Manchester speech.
They demanded Dáil time to discuss the Taoiseach's two separate cash dig-outs in the early 1990s and his Manchester windfall in 1994. Docile McDowell smiled serenely and ignored them.
With the Opposition near apoplectic in the face of his placid disregard for their demands, it looked like the session might have to be abandoned.
Labour leader Pat Rabbitte intoned ominously that if the Government didn't accede to their reasonable request, "there'll be no ploughing today".
Chief Whip Tom Kitt stepped in and promised something would be arranged for Tuesday. This had the desired effect, and the frothing subsided.
But not for long. The action switched to Cavan, where Bertie told the bizarre story of his lucrative gig in Manchester.
When he was minister for finance, he was on the after-dinner circuit. It must be stressed that he did this in a private capacity - not as a minister.
He was particularly popular in Manchester, where he spoke to a group of business people on a few occasions. Performing as a mere commoner, what did he talk to them about? Maybe he spoke as a leading authority on the maintenance of hanging baskets. Perhaps he talked about managing your personal finances.
Could his thoughts on Dublin GAA have been the attraction?
Whatever Bertie said, it moved his small audience enough for them to take out their wallets.
He must have been out of the room at the time, because when his friends gave him eight thousand quid, "it was totally a surprise".
There must have been an awful strain on his anorak pockets going home that night.
So you see, there was no fee, just an inexplicably unexpected whip-around.
And it only happened once, although there is a temptation to wonder if a plate was routinely passed around at these after-dinner gigs.
Bertie may not be into money or fancy living; building his image as a political great has always motivated him. Creating a legend doesn't come cheap.
Back in Dublin, Tánaiste McDowell pricked up his ears and heard what the Taoiseach had to say. By mid-afternoon, it became clear his operation is reversible.
Serious and significant issues need to be addressed by the Taoiseach as a matter of urgency, he growled.
Bertie is in trouble. Brian Cowen remains quiet.
