SKETCH:Batten down the hatches, there's trouble on the way. Pensioners, orphans and Ministers first! Brian Cowen put it another way yesterday, now that we've become too fancy to have a mere recession: "As the economy begins a period of below-trend growth, our first priority as a Government is to ensure that the poor and the vulnerable within our society are protected." Well said, Biffo. Priorities are important, particularly where compassion for the marginalised is concerned.
Mercifully, the nation's poor and vulnerable Cabinet Ministers had somebody looking out for them recently, making sure they are adequately recompensed in the run-up to Christmas.
But the pay increase doesn't seem to have cheered up the Taoiseach very much. Maybe because he's been suffering badly from PMT (Pre-Mahon Tension) for the last few weeks.
You could see the strain etched on poor Bertie's face yesterday during Mr Cowen's Budget speech. The Taoiseach is a martyr to the PMT, and there's nothing he can take for it now. (It was taking stuff that caused the trouble in the first place.)
For Biffo's fourth Budget, the mandarins crafted a shiny new phrase so he didn't have to speak in negative terms of a slowdown in the economy. No, we are experiencing "below-trend growth". Sounds far nicer than saying we're all going to hell in a handcart. It's right up there with "outward social mobility", which was a nice way of describing emigration in the Fifties.
The Minister for Finance is becoming an old hand now at these Budget Day set pieces, which are about as exciting as a knitting interlude in an enclosed order. He holds a brief press conference in the morning during which he says nothing of any import and gets his photograph taken. Then he has his photo taken again in the afternoon before his Budget address, this time posing with his family and a copy of his speech in a leather folder.
This is one of the most thrilling parts of the day, when the colour of the tie the Minister will wear to the chamber is revealed. This is particularly interesting to bookmakers, who take bets on the chosen hue. For the record, it was in shades of blue, brown, white and what looked like gold. God help the bookies.
Brian's wife, Mary, and their daughters, Sinead (16) and Maedbh (9), arrived to witness his big day and were taken to reserved seating in the front row of the public gallery. Sinead stuck it out for the duration of her dad's speech, but young Maedbh found the 50-minute snoozathon rather more challenging. She persevered but looked quite relieved when he finished and she could escape.
There was no sign of maverick Fianna Fáil backbencher Ned O'Keefe when proceedings began.
However, he slipped in just as the speech began, sitting outside the chamber railings, behind the Senators, chair tight to the wall, wedged in beside a bronze bust of Seán Mac Diarmada.
Meanwhile, on the day when Junior Minister Trevor Sargent issued a press statement singing the praises of the humble Brussels sprout and explaining how to cook them, his Green Party colleague, Mary White, appeared wearing what looked like large spring cabbage on her lapel. Given Trevor's devotion to the Brussels sprout - he eats them in great quantity at this time of the year - those deputies who sat beside him for the afternoon are to be commended for their bravery.
Biffo had few surprises in his Budget, apart from his new stamp duty measure, which he announced at the very end in a big finish. Senator Eoghan Harris - has a man ever looked more happy? - nodded his approval.
There was the traditional standing ovation for the Minister from the troops. The Opposition affected not to care less, despite roars of "Still in Opposition!" from Conor Lenihan.
The warm applause was led by Bertie, who congratulated his second-in-command with a hearty "Well done, Brian!" As always, Biffo looked slightly embarrassed.
Then it was Richard Bruton's turn. Fine Gael's finance spokesman had been making furious notes while the Minister spoke, tip-tapping away on a large calculator, underlining figures with a highlighter pen and trying to bat away scribbled notes from Brian Hayes.
Richard attacked Biffo for delivering a Budget full of soundbites and little else. "He's lives in a fantasy land of soundbites," said deputy Bruton, before succumbing to terrible fit of the clichés. "All bark and no bite." "A hit and hope Budget." "Talks the talk but won't walk the walk." "Time for a wake-up call." "Bottled the challenge." "Spurned opportunities".
Richard rattled on, as Biffo did sums on the back of a brown envelope for Bertie, who seemed engrossed, despite the nagging pain of his Pre-Mahon Tension. The pair seemed to have become very close recently.
The two of them hardly noticed when deputy Bruton got carried away with his metaphors and accused the Government of being lazy, stay-in-bed, chain-smoking boozers who spend their time "binging on junk food".
Sure you only have to look at them, he said, somewhat unfairly.
Richard wanted justice for the less well off. "Many people still need a leg-up" he argued.
"Or a dig-out!" chortled his colleague, Noel Coonan. Bertie looked up, fierce sour.
Then Joan Burton spoke for six hours, or so it seemed. "The sky is now dark with chickens coming home to roost," she said.
Arthur Morgan possibly may still be speaking. Not even Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin could be as long-winded.
A quiet day. Perfect therapy for a Taoiseach with PMT.
