DAIL SKETCH:THERE WAS widespread shock in Leinster House when news broke that Joo Diligence, through her lawyers, had declined to appear before the Joint Oireachtas Com-mit-tee on Taking a Serious Look into Things.

The fragrant Ms Diligence has emerged as one of the central characters in the unfolding Anglo Irish Bank scandal. In the weeks to come, depending how this story shakes out, she may yet become known as the Taoiseach’s alibi.

The Opposition was certainly of the view that Brian Cowen was hiding behind her skirts yesterday. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was ducking for cover behind the winsome Joo’s sometime partner, the shadowy Mr Big known as Corporate Governance.

Ms Diligence is known to be fond of a drop. Some speculated that this may have been the reason for her non-appearance at the com-mit-tee.

The Taoiseach gave credence to this theory on numerous occasions during Leaders’ Questions, when he spoke of “Joo Diligence being carried out”. He also told the house that there were “issues” concerning corporate governance. In fact, these only came to light around the time Cowen’s administration was considering nationalising Anglo. However, what with having his hands full with Joo Diligence (footless again), he left the whole question of governance to the Financial Regulator.

Caught in the middle of this dysfunctional duo, the Taoiseach can hardly have been expected to ask searching questions about things that are exercising the minds of the ordinary man and woman in the street. Like, when exactly did he find out about the €300 million deal involving 10 handpicked investors in Anglo, who bought shares in the failing bank on dodgy loans advanced by the failing bank so they could keep the show – which had made them all very rich – on the road? And could he name the 10 people involved in buying the shares, which had to be sold off due to Sean Quinn’s “overhang”?

Normally, one would consider it bad manners to be discussing anybody’s overhang on the floor of Dáil Éireann, but in the case of billionaire cement baron Quinn, his financial overhang has now become a matter of national importance.

Because thanks to Anglo’s Q-10 group of chancers, Ireland will never be asked to join the G-10 group of nations. (At the height of our boom-bang-a-bust delirium, anything seemed possible – even membership of the world’s richest nations’ club.) By the way, the G-10 group has 11 members. Why is that not surprising? But back to the Dáil, where Enda Kenny and Eamon Gilmore are demanding to know the identity of the lucky 10. Lucky, because the taxpayer is going to pick up most of their tab.

“You know very well, Taoiseach, who they are, and we all have our suspicions!” roared Fine Gael’s Dinny McGinley, quite beside himself.

Brian Cowen said he hadn’t a clue.

“Are they Irish?” bellowed Dinny, giving a hint as to the way his suspicions might be heading.

The Taoiseach was adamant. No involvement. No knowledge. No nothing.

Enda Kenny posed a pointed question. “Can you confirm that no members of your Cabinet, no member, in any way, was involved in the decisions of a new Golden Circle? The Galway Tent may be gone, but its spirit seems to be alive and well.” Cowen scowled. His haunted-looking Ministers glared across malevolently at Enda. You could have taken them down to Moore Street and sold them off as a punnet of glums.

At the mention of the famous “tint”, the shoulders of the FF backbenchers slumped lower. “The tent has fallen down on top of you!” he kept shouting. “Down on top of you!”

Eamon Gilmore continued to ask for the names. “The identity of this Golden Circle.” But he got nowhere. “It’s the rotten borough of Irish banking.”

As Cowen spoke about Joo Diligence and Corporate Governance, Minister Noel Dempsey passed him handwritten notes, while Health Minister Mary Harney, who was sitting beside Noel, whispered urgently to him from under her hand. God, but they all looked worried. Very worried. Like they fear something might erupt, and they won’t have the right fitting lid to contain it.

Labour’s Joan Burton was remarkably quiet, although she became very animated when told by the Taoiseach that the Financial Regulator had determined all was well with the transaction because Anglo’s lawyers told him so. However, she had her mind on other things. A short while later, Joan of Arkle (she’s been covering some ground these last few months in the Dáil) galloped away from Leinster House to address the agm of the Ballinacargy, Mullingar, branch of the Labour Party.

“I spoke here last in February of 1993,” she told her audience.

“I spoke then about the scandal of rezoning by greedy property developers in areas like the Liffey Valley and other parts of Dublin county. I had the temerity to suggest that unless rezoning was cleaned up, people would begin to believe that money was changing hands between some councillors and developers. For my pains I got threats of legal action from some 42 Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael members of the old Dublin County Council.”

In Leinster House, rumours about the identity abounded. The strongest – guess where it may have originated from – was that the 10 are “not well known”. But if nobody knows who they are, how can we know if they are well known or not? We feel a Rumsfeld moment coming on.