Dáil Sketch/Miriam Lord:"Death tax" repeated Enda Kenny with funereal relish, rolling the words around like Bela Lugosi before a midnight feast.
"Bertie and Harney - the new Burke and Hare," trembled Jim O'Keeffe, not to be outdone.
Was the Fine Gael front bench at a Vincent Price convention recently? In a contribution yesterday that was more Hammer House than Leinster House, valid questions on how the Government intends to implement its proposed nursing homes scheme were spoiled by Enda with a B-movie performance and a dodgy script.
True, one newspaper decided to depict Minister for Health Mary Harney as a vampire, stealing the blood - and money - of the dying. The Fine Gael leader didn't have to go the same route.
But he chose to go into the chamber and go for the jugular. He missed. The way of the fang has never been anaemic Enda's way.
The more the Fine Gael leader talked of the Government introducing a new death tax, the more he risked making bumbling Bertie look like a well-meaning Jonathan Harker. All this, while the Taoiseach was having severe difficulty convincing the Opposition that home help services, along with occupational and physiotherapy services, are working well for the elderly.
"The care in the community, which the deputy says is not there, IS there," insisted Bertie, to hoots of derision from TDs across the floor, who could wallpaper the chamber walls with real-life stories of elderly people suffering.
"The home helps are operating, a Ceann Comhairle," he continued, to howls of protest. "You cut them by 30 per cent!" bellowed Labour's Emmet Stagg. "Giving continuous care," he ploughed on. "One hour a day?" shrieked an incredulous Stagg.
But death tax was Enda's preferred soundbite of the day. His justice spokesman, Jim O'Keeffe, weighed in solidly behind, pulling a metaphorical cowl over his head and dusting off his scythe. "Bertie and Harney - the new Burke and Hare."
The Taoiseach and his former tánaiste have been accused of many things in their day - they've had a good 10 years to rack up the list - but even they must be wondering what they've done to be labelled 21st century grave-robbers. And there we were, thinking all those visits to Edinburgh by Bertie were to do with the peace process.
Cast in the role of blood-sucking bogeyman, a cheesed-off Taoiseach chewed his knuckle and eyed the Opposition. What was he thinking, as they roared, and darkness fell? "Listen to them. Children of the Night. What music they make . . ."
So much better to think back to the sunny afternoon, when SeáHaughey finally made it to the rank of junior Minister.
The Taoiseach made his announcement just after lunch, and a bashful baby Haughey appeared at the top of the chamber steps, unsure of what to do. He was motioned down to the second row by the chief whip, Tom Kitt, smiling happily when he was applauded by all sides of the house.
Afterwards, he posed outside for photographs. Looking forward to the new challenge, he said, now that he is in the Department of Education with responsibility for higher education and school buses.
Despite being the favourite for the job, Seán said he hadn't taken anything for granted. (A wise course, given Bertie's track record on making appointments.) It's five months today since the death of Seán's father, although Charlie is still very much in the news.
He was pressed to say what he thought his dad might have felt about him becoming a junior Minister, but preferred to keep those thoughts private.
But 45-year-old Seán can't escape his family. Next question.
"Have you told your mother yet?"