DÁIL SKETCH:SORREEE! WE'RE all out of Happy Meals. So that's one Bacon and Egg McBiffo, a Lenihan shake and a Mary McMuffin.

Would you like a budget with your fries? That’ll be four and a half billion euro please. Thank you, sir. Have a nice recession . . .

Oh, but it was too delicious by far in the O’Connell Street branch of McDonald’s yesterday. It was the juiciest political McNugget of the day – with extra cheese and saucy sauce and a crowning gherkin to make it even more toothsome. For there, behind the counter beside the tills and under the big menu, was a smiling Tánaiste Mary Coughlan handing over a plastic tray of fast food to a man in a suit.

Work exchange. They’ve sent a representative up to Leinster House. Apparently Ronald McDonald has joined the Cabinet.

Say what you like about Mary Coughlan, but she’s a brave woman. She deserves to be commended for honouring a commitment to visit McDonald’s new “people centre” staff training facility yesterday afternoon. The Tánaiste hasn’t had the happiest of times since she became Brian Cowen’s second-in-command, and shots of her behind a cash register in McDonald’s may not have been the best way to boost her image.

But a Minister has to do what a Minister has to do, so she pitched up at the appointed time and got down to business. Rather too briskly, thought some.

When our gaffe-prone Tánaiste went behind the counter to have her photograph taken, the assembled press photographers went weak at the knees and the accompanying hacks nearly passed out with joy.

In the event, Mary didn’t put on a McDonald’s hat – that was too much to hope for, but that didn’t matter.

We understand the Taoiseach asked his Tánaiste to gather some stuff while she was there.

Tánaiste Coughlan’s mid- afternoon outing provided some welcome respite from the Dáil, where budget threats and economic arguments continue to rage between the Government and the Opposition.

Enda and Eamon want to hear the real figures behind the financial crisis. How can the Taoiseach and his Minister for Finance expect them to come up with constructive proposals in the spirit of national government, when they won’t level with them about the extent of the problem? They have to “fly blind” said Eamon. “Let’s see what the colour of the multi-annual context is.” That’s the way they talk now, above in Leinster House.

The Taoiseach told them to see the Minister for Finance, who sat at the far end of the row, with that familiar stunned expression on his face. Still, Brian didn’t look half as bad as his brother, Junior Minister Conor Lenihan, who appeared to have fallen into a coma, happy in the land of Nod.

This was unfortunate, as Fine Gael leader Enda Kenny was soon to announce his party’s plans for a radical overhaul of the Dáil and Seanad. Eight junior ministers to get the chop was one of the proposals. Enda hopes the Government will act on their suggestions in the next budget.

Fortunately for Conor, he’s fine for the foreseeable future, because the Taoiseach is genetically programmed to reject any suggestions that come from the Blueshirts.

Speaking of job changes, there was a flurry of pretend- excitement at the commencement of business when Ceann Comhairle John O’Donoghue welcomed the deputy prime minister of Bulgaria and her entourage.

“Do we have a new diplomat?” inquired Fine Gael’s Richard Bruton. “There is an unidentified object in the Distinguished Visitors’ Gallery,” observed Labour’s Pat Rabbitte.

He was right, for Fianna Fáil backbencher Charlie O’Connor was sitting among the Bulgarian delegation. “Tallaght is obviously being twinned,” drawled Fine Gael’s Alan Shatter, as Charlie basked in all the attention.

“I’m chairman of the Parliamentary Friendship Group with Eastern Europe” he explained to us later.

But some people always remain true to their jobs. Fine Gael’s Denis Naughton, for example, never misses a chance to do his bit for the farming community.

During the Order of Business, he asked the Taoiseach about “the crazy proposal to electronically tag young lambs from the first of January of next year.” Would the house be given an opportunity to debate “that lunacy?” Cowen was sitting beside Willie O’Dea. When they get together, they’re like two schoolboys giggling at the back of a funeral Mass.

At the first mention of tagging lambs, the two of them dissolved. They couldn’t stop laughing. Thankfully, Denis had a few more questions, mostly to do with the laws on drink, giving the sniggering pair time to regain their composure a little.

Biffo rose to answer. He dealt with the other questions, then got to the one about the lambs. “Er

. . .” he began, pausing, head down, trying not to laugh. “There’s no date for that.” The Ceann Comhairle started to giggle. “Lambs to the slaughter!” chortled the Bull. Even Denis Naughton was in stitches.

Then Biffo looked up, trying to keep a straight face, addressing both the ovine and the alcohol elements of Naughton’s queries. “I think this trend of sheep being out all night does needs to be addressed.” And he sat down, but not before emitting a loud snort.

The Bull, who’s been a bit down in the mouth this week because he’s not in Cheltenham, chuckled away as he called Labour’s Jan O’Sullivan.

“Ooh” tinkled Jan with a smile, “I thought it was the tagging of LADS that deputy Naughton was raising there for a minute!”

The Ceann Comhairle nearly fell off his chair, the males in the chamber guffawed and Biffo and Willie nearly passed out.

Minds like sewers.