DAIL SKETCH:WHAT DID David Miliband think he was at? In fairness to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, he kept his composure when his British counterpart stood with him on the plinth and said a terrible thing. David Miliband wasn't to know this, but his light-hearted words presented an appalling vista for the Irish Government. Truly appalling.

Micheál must be hoping nobody noticed.

What happened was that the British foreign secretary arrived at Leinster House yesterday wearing another man’s jacket. (No, not Gordon Brown’s.) He was given it by mistake when leaving his flight and didn’t realise it until it was too late.

It transpired that the owner of the jacket was a “Mr Collins”. His Irish host lost no time in filling him in on the significance of that surname in Irish politics.

“There aren’t many British foreign secretaries that have come to this House and said they want to say very clearly and loudly, through the Irish press, ‘Thank you Mr Collins’,” quipped the man tipped to take over from Gordon Brown as next leader of the British Labour Party.

What a coincidence. Micheál beamed at the serendipity of it all. The owner of the jacket is probably a Corkman too. You couldn’t buy that sort of soft publicity.

Life can be good sometimes. It had been a torrid day in the Dáil for his boss Brian Cowen, punctuated by angry exchanges and a 10-minute suspension of the unruly house.

Yet here was Minister Martin, shiny and laughing in the evening sunshine, the centre of attention at a happy photocall while the Taoiseach was probably being hosed down after his latest ordeal in the chamber. But then David ruined the Minister’s day with the simple addition of some unnecessary detail.

“I need to say ‘thank you Mr Collins’ because as I got off the BMI flight, I got off with someone’s jacket and someone else had my jacket . . .” said the Tim Henman lookalike, recalling the incident.

Micheál hardly blinked. But the damage was done.

“BMI flight?” Did the foreign secretary just say “BMI flight?” Micheál said nothing, but those words must have chilled him to the bone.

What was Mr Miliband thinking, admitting to travelling on a commercial airline to an important meeting with an Irish Cabinet Minister? Talk about setting a bad example.

Why didn’t he go the whole hog and say what he earns? (Considerably less than his Leinster House counterpart.) Pity about poor David Miliband and his aul jacket. Serves him right.

If he travelled to meetings across the water by government jet he wouldn’t be losing his clothes.

Just because there’s a recession on doesn’t mean standards should slip. Ireland’s Cabinet Ministers could teach him a thing or two about keeping up appearances.

Next thing you know it, people will be asking why Micheál and Biffo and the rest can’t do the same.

But with any luck, maybe nobody will have noticed.

The economic crisis may throw people off the scent. It certainly had them very exercised in the Dáil.

“This is a parliament. This is a parliament. It’s not a kindergarten,” wailed Biffo, at the end of his tether.

Barracked at every opportunity, the Taoiseach’s frustration was apparent. But then, everyone sounded a little frustrated yesterday.

Perhaps it was the heat. Or the tantalisingly close finishing line: punch-drunk deputies are dizzily reeling towards next Friday’s end of term. But, most likely, it was this session’s relentless diet of bad news that had everyone feeling a bit dyspeptic.

Enda Kenny opened with the latest unemployment figures. Eamon Gilmore followed up. There were harsh exchanges. At one stage, the Labour leader got so carried away he thought Fianna Fáil was in coalition with Fine Gael.

“Sorry apologises . . . way ahead of myself, way ahead of the times.” The Taoiseach said he has tough decisions to make. He has to fix the economy. Money has to be found. Lots of it.

“This is what we have to confront the people with, and there are choices, and they’re difficult choices, but whoever has a seal of office in this democracy will have to face the same choices, the same issues” The Opposition heckled. The Taoiseach persisted.

“Stop shouting! Enough of the roaring and shouting!” bellowed Fine Gael’s Seán Barret.

There was a row over the schools building programme. The Ceann Comhairle had enough.

“We have to have order . . . let the Taoiseach answer the question . . . please . . . ah please . . . you’re going to have to leave now if that keep up . . . ah no . . . let him answer . . . for goodness sake . . . please . . . ah no . . . I’m going to suspend the house if that keeps up . . . ah no . . . the house is suspended for 10 minutes.” And with that, he swept out, robe billowing behind him, as the bickering continued.

It may have been sweetness and light later with Micheál Martin and David Miliband, but there wasn’t a hope of the parties reaching a happy medium in the House.

“You have your view,” shrugged Biffo at one stage to Sinn Féin’s Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin. “In my view, your view has the luxury of opposition.” Tough decisions have to be made.

But at least there’s always the luxury of the Government jet.

BMI? Not bloody likely.