Dáil Sketch:Another morning in Drumcondra, and Bertie's fork is poised above the modest kipper on his breakfast plate. He's always been partial to a bit of red herring.
A flunkey nervously approaches. "Time to take your tabloids, Taoiseach," he announces with a weak smile, placing the newspapers behind the teapot with a trembling hand. He quickly withdraws, and scuttles in under the stairs behind a large framed portrait of Charles J Haughey. He waits.
It doesn't take long.
"Ah, for jaaay-sus sake!" Bertie's seen the paper.
What fresh health hell is this?
It's a photo of Louth hospital's €2 million Cat scan machine, the one which, back in the heady days of the 2002 election campaign, Bertie promised to deliver in jig time to the voters of Dundalk.
There it is, five years later, still in cardboard boxes and unceremoniously parked in the sterile and controlled environment of the hospital laundry room. Finally arrived in November.
The picture - it spoke volumes - put Bertie right off his kipper, and he looked in a right bad humour by the time he arrived in the Dáil chamber.
While his Ministers joked with each other, a thin-lipped Taoiseach appeared lost in his own thoughts, keeping to himself and examining his fingernails.
When Enda Kenny rose, he has the offending newspaper article in his hand.
Bertie heaved a heavy sigh and started chewing a knuckle. Enda outlined the embarrassing details of how a precious Cat scan machine in a laundry room has joined the Government's expanding pile of dirty linen.
Minister for Foreign Affairs Dermot Ahern, whose constituency base is in Dundalk, spoke urgently into Bertie's ear. In between explaining the situation to his boss, Dermot roared at the Opposition.
"You don't know because you're ill-informed. You're ill-informed."
"How. Is it really a washing machine?" scoffed Fine Gael health spokesman Liam Twomey. Dermot was disgusted. "It's a good story, and you're trying to ruin it."
The Opposition couldn't get over the craziness of the situation. "What the hell is going on?" boomed Enda.
The Minister for Sport decided to wade in and impose some authority.
"You're a tabloid party with a tabloid leader," yelped John O'Donoghue. "A tabloid party."
That's all Bertie needed. He began chewing the knuckles on his other hand, glowering up from under his eyebrows. Slowly, he got to his feet.
Millions spent on the ailing masses of Dundalk. Much done. The CAT scan machine only arrived in November, and the place needs an electrical upgrade before it can be commissioned. You can't just plug it in.
He never explained why this preparatory work wasn't done earlier, given that the equipment was promised since 2002 and the public spent two years fundraising for the machine before the HSE stepped in and picked up the tab.
Still, it's almost ready to go now. After further questioning from Enda Kenny, Bertie said he was sure all the staff required to operate it would be made available.
"Before the election" predicted the Opposition.
Bertie talked up the qualities of this "highly-sophisticated machine".
"In a laundry room," came the reply.
"If yis are interested in just playing tabloid headlines, well that's alright, there's no point in me answering," whined miffed Bertie.
No wonder he was in bad humour. Nothing he said yesterday could erase the image of the CAT scan machine in the cardboard boxes in the hospital laundry.
It's an image voters will remember when statistics fade.
Word of advice to the Drumcondra flunkey: stay under the stairs.
