Like male exotic dancers at the doors of a waxing salon, the backbench boys of Fianna Fáil had just one objective in mind: to get everything off their chests. A painful procedure, but worth it in the end, if it meant a rare chance to flex their political pecs in front of their ministerial masters.
As for the Fianna Fáil women, they too were anxious to put on a display of muscle for the Ministers. As they face into a year of strenuous poll dancing, they feel the party leadership has not been providing them with the proper support.
Writhing with worry for the last few months but getting scant attention from the top brass - who think it's enough to shove a few electoral expenses in their garters and tell them to get on with it - some of the FF troops have been muttering about revolt in the ranks.
Seeing themselves as mere ministerial playmates does not make for happy bunnies.
Recently, 14 of them made timid noises in protest at their plight. Unloved, unheeded, unimportant and, if the situation doesn't improve, perhaps unseated. Nothing concentrates the mind of a deputy more than the prospect of losing the seat.
Taoiseach Bertie Ahern moved quickly to quell the unrest, the result being a series of special parliamentary party meetings, concentrating on four separate areas of policy.
The first of these was held in Leinster House yesterday. "I expect you to be present at these meetings, and contribute to the discussion," Bertie informed everyone. "In addition to your attendance at these meetings, I would ask that you put a short list together which identifies the issues which you feel are of importance and concern, especially locally.
"In the coming weeks and months, I intend to work with you and all members of Fianna Fáil to address these issues."
One week into the summer recess, this threat cheered up backbenchers no end. On the plus side, at least their leader didn't request them to come up with actual policy documents.
Proceedings kicked off with a long lunch in the members' restaurant, which was heavily attended. "There must be over 40 of them inside eating," shrugged Cork North Central's Noel O'Flynn, a leading light of the short-lived Rabble of 14.
Noel, for his part, was struggling down the corridor under the weight of a large file, packed with questions he intended putting to the Cabinet worthies pushed out to breathe the same air as their party foot- soldiers for an entire afternoon.
Judging by the amount of deputies who went in carrying large bundles of notes, the meeting looked like it would go on for some time. The long wait for it to finish was punctuated by occasional incursions on to the plinth by deputies wishing to remain anonymous but gain media brownie points with dispatches from the front.
Cork North Central's Denis O'Donovan caused a slight stir early on when he emerged minutes after the meeting began, declaring he had been ejected for complaining he never got a chance to join the Rabble of 14 because nobody told him about it.
Once outside, he admitted it suited him to be ruled out of order as he had three delegations up from Bantry and it would be bad manners not to meet them.
No excitement, so, yesterday - but of tragedy there was plenty.
A couple of weeks ago, a duck landed in the Japanese water garden - an enclosed oasis in the middle of the new office complex adjoining Leinster House. It must have seemed like the safest place to bring up a family, with the soaring buildings on all sides providing protection.
In the fullness of time, eight ducklings made their debut in the garden, delighting onlookers in the little coffee dock area overlooking it. But the seagulls nesting overhead also noticed this touching family scene. On Tuesday, only five babies remained. Yesterday that number was reduced to three.
Duckling was on the menu in the Dáil restaurant on Monday. We've heard they eat their young in Leinster House, but even politicians couldn't swoop that low - unlike the seagulls.
The mood of backbenchers was perhaps best reflected by Dublin North East's Martin Brady, who made his way to the meeting with a large screwdriver in his breast pocket. An eagle-eyed Opposition colleague spotted it and removed the offending implement in case Martin, who later had heated exchanges with Minister Noel Dempsey, was tempted to use it.