DÁIL SKETCH:Minister gets down to nitty gritty and it's not long before things go rapidly downhill

WHO WOULD want to be Minister for Finance in these difficult times? Michael Noonan had gone missing.

The space between Enda and Eamon, where he should have been, remained vacant. Taoiseach and Tánaiste smiled at each other across the void but said nothing.

An awkward silence settled on the chamber.

Paul Kehoe, the Government Chief Whip, whispered urgently into his phone, a worried look on his face.

The minutes passed.

Enda fished out his mobile and began texting. Eamon swivelled his head, studying the view from his new Dáil perch. Enda winked up at the press gallery.

Still no sign.

Brian Lenihan looked across the floor at his old spot, ready to step into the breach if required, but he would have had to kill Peter Mathews first, who was warming the chair directly behind the ministerial gap.

He could have jumped over in a second and informed the House: “I told you so”. Then the double doors above the Government benches burst open. Enda looked up. James Bannon bustled in.

Deputy Bannon has been disappointingly subdued since Fine Gael came to power. He could have taken Michael’s place and treated the Dáil to a verbal eruption.

But he would have had to kill Joan Burton first, who was steaming along the carpet in his slipstream. She could have delivered the bad news on the bank stress tests.

But she would have had to kill Pat Rabbitte first . . .

The Captain of the Guard arrived, gliding around the railing in a swish of gold braid and brass buttons. As a precaution.

The atmosphere was tense.

Nobody seemed to know what was happening, although Shane Ross was missing and people began to wonder if he had kidnapped Noonan as part of a bloodless coup to install The Economists.

Enda looked anxious. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet. For one awful moment, it looked like the Taoiseach was going to fill in the time by treating the restless chamber to his legendary JFK impression. We hear it’s the talk of the White House (bar and grill.)

But every cloud has a silver lining, for Enda was merely standing to make way for Baldy, and him barrelling in nearly 10 minutes late bearing bad tidings about the banks.

There was relief all round, although banking expert Mathews looked a little disappointed.

Seán Barrett, the Ceann Comhairle, felt he had to mark the occasion. “Can I welcome the practice of Ministers coming in to the house?” No thanks, Seán, not if they’re coming in to tell us the extent to which we’ve been beggared by the banks. Although it was undeniably brave of the Minister to reverse his decision to run away and join the circus.

But Deputy Barrett was making a point that was much appreciated on the Government benches. During the last administration, the opposition complained bitterly that the government regularly usurped the primacy of parliament by choosing to make big announcements outside the Dáil.

“Hear Hear!” cried junior minister Brian Hayes, as Cabinet members beamed at the thought of how wonderful they are. Someone attempted a round of applause on the backbenches but got nowhere.

Noonan began his speech with a little relief before getting down to the nitty gritty. “Tuesday, 30th September, 2008 will go down as the blackest day in Ireland since the Civil War broke out,” he intoned, just to get people in the mood.

But things went downhill from there.

He said copies of his speech were about to arrive for all deputies. “Can we afford them?” wondered Mick Wallace.

Then the Minister broke the terrible news, putting the heart crossways in some of us by declaring that he was going to create two new “killer banks”.

What he actually said was that he is establishing a pair of universal full-service banks which will be the core “pillars” of a restructured system. He didn’t say whether these radical columns will be Ionic, Doric or Nelsons.

Whatever they are, they’ll be the costliest set of pillars ever constructed, coming in at a whopping €24 billion.

Joan Burton read through the speech while simultaneously looking through pages of graphs and financial tables. Now and then she appeared to be explaining things to Minister Jimmy Deenihan, who was sitting beside her and looking increasingly baffled.

But the upshot of it all, according to Noonan, was that we can “now move forward with purpose.” Brian Lenihan, the previous minister for finance, hoped that his plan would work. “I don’t want to be contentious today,” he began, before becoming contentious, but he was at pains to stress that he wished the minister well.

Wasn’t convinced, though.

“You’ve some neck! You’ve some neck,” spluttered Joan. Jimmy, at this point, had already drifted away.

When Brian started to speak of a “liquid facility”, some of us wondered if it might not be a good time to make a break for the bar and partake of some burden sharing.

In fact, the former Minister was of the view that Noonan hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done. “And I really don’t wish to be churlish.” It’s all very complicated stuff. Happily, the floor was ceded to Sinn Féin and they usually make high finance very understandable.

Pearse Doherty was angry. The Government had left the senior bondholders untouched. They weren’t burned or even singed.

What about all the great talk before the election of not giving another red cent to the banks under the bondholders were forced to shoulder some of the burden? “Why is there no outcry?” he asked, focusing in particular on the Labour ranks. “Joan, why is there no outcry. Who has gagged ya?” Nobody, judging by the bellows coming from Burton.

The new crowd is no different to the previous shower, he said. “You’ve robbed Micheál Martin’s and Brian Cowen’s clothes and you’re proudly wearing them on the government benches.”

Maybe that’s why they looked so uncomfortable – what with poor Noonan bet into Martin’s suit and Biffo’s ensemble only swimming on Enda.

“You are borrowing tomorrow to pay for yesterday and forgetting about today,” quivered Pearse. “The point of unsustainability is the iceberg that will sink this State.”

At this point, Joan seemed to be doing sums for young Arthur Spring.

The debate continued. Noonan disappeared again and a frantic official from the Department of Finance ran around the corridors looking for him. It turned out that he had slipped away to take a look at the 6 o’clock news headlines.

Noonan’s pillars had better be good, or we’ll all end up going the way of Admiral Nelson by the time the next stress test rolls around.