Taking abuse over the Government's jet and its policy on Iraq is all in a day's work for Fianna Fail grandees on the canvass, writes Mark Hennessy, Political Correspondent
Strolling over, cigarette in hand, to the man sitting throwing mild abuse at Fianna Fáil canvassers, outgoing FF Euro MEP Niall Andrews displays tricks learned from years of practice.
"Down with the bin charges. You'll all have to get a real job when you get voted out of office. You should all be on Crimeline," the man yells.
The mild disturbance threatens to upset Fianna Fáil's Eoin Ryan's lunchtime hunt for votes in the Irish Financial Services Centre.
Within minutes, the man has gone quiet, calmed by the close-quarter soothing tones of Andrews, who is stepping down after 20 years in the European Parliament.
"I'll bet your man is over there complaining about all of us. And Niall is telling him, 'You're right, you're right. I have been saying that to them for years'," jokes one party colleague.
Eoin Ryan's brother, Mark, turns with glee to tell the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Mr Cowen, about one of Andrews' earlier moments from the canvass.
"This woman was giving out yards about Iraq and the Government. Niall looked her up and down, and said, 'Madam, the first-ever protest against Iraq was held in Dublin by Fianna Fáil years ago. Funny, I don't remember that you were there yourself'."
Shortly afterwards, Cowen stands in front of Ryan's latest truck-mounted campaign poster, "Protect Irish Jobs.
Protect The Celtic Tiger." One canvasser jokes: "It works on two levels: the economy and protecting the furry animals. It is politically correct."
The choice of the IFSC for the unveiling is apt, given that the young financial cubs here have benefited most, perhaps, from the changes of recent years.
However, they are not much interested in politics. Just a few hundred yards from O'Connell Street, the IFSC feels like a city within a city. Most of the early lunchgoers are polite, but Cowen and Ryan have to chase after a few to put campaign literature into their hands.
Despite the rain-damped atmosphere, the reception in the financial belt is better than it could have been, swears Kieran Bolger, one of Ryan's campaign team.
"Five weeks ago they were giving it to us in the neck. They've realised since where their bread is buttered, I'll tell you," he declared.
It is impossible to tell whether it is true, whether he believes it, or whether the message is deliberately calibrated to be picked up by a nearby journalist.
Later, the canvass team moves to the Blackrock Shopping Centre on Frascati Road on Dublin's comfortable middle-class southside in what should be Ryan's voting heartland.
Cowen quickly enters into a lengthy debate with a sandal-wearing, middle-aged man who expresses doubts about the Government's proposed citizenship referendum.
Displaying a command of his brief, the Minister moves effortlessly from discussing the UN Convention on Statelessness to the recent preliminary ruling in the Chen case by the European Court of Justice.
Curiously, he never mentions the number of births by foreign mothers in Dublin's three maternity hospitals - the reason offered first by his Cabinet colleague, the Minister for Justice, Mr McDowell.
"I have no problem with multi-culturalism," Cowen declares earnestly, "This is about the Chen case. The integrity of our system is in question.
"People in such a situation have the right to work and live throughout the EU. So we have a responsibility to other people as well.
"Too much of the debate has been emotion-charged. It is about being sensible. If we didn't do this referendum now we would have to do it after a final Chen result," he says.
Parting company, the sandal-wearer, pleased that Cowen engaged in a conversation, says: "There is plenty of food for thought."
Inside, though, Cowen grumbles quietly in the face of disdainful looks from some shoppers, who refuse to take literature, or respond to a salute.
"Why can't people just say 'No, thanks' if they don't want to take anything? It is this ignoring that gets to me," he says, shrugging his shoulders.
Cowen on canvass is a different beast to Cowen in the Dáil. He speaks so quietly he sounds like a doctor about to break bad news to a patient.
Pointing to a leaflet, he spots one woman hurrying for the shopping centre's front-door. "How are you? Do you have one of these? Will you help him out?" he asks.
Two women happily take the mick about Cowen's lifestyle in charge of the Department of Foreign Affairs: "There you are jetting everywhere," said one.
"I know, I know, but sometimes I have to take scheduled flights because the jet isn't working. It's a hard life. Sure, I'm giving you every chance to hit me over the head," he said.