Three young men, including one whose head was shaven, apart from a Hare Krishna-style ponytail, and another with a bongo drum, were waiting at one corner. At the other corner stood an assorted group of Labour Party, Democratic Left and Green Party activists.
It looked as if Adi Roche's luck was out - her central Dublin walkabout in Henry Street was going to have to compete with a Hare Krishna procession.
But no. If it was a Hare Krishna procession, she was its leader. As soon as the candidate appeared two guitars were produced, and they walked in front of her playing the guitars and the bongo drum while the one with the shaven head sang a wordless song.
The Labour Party general secretary, Ray Kavanagh, was not impressed. "The f***ing Green Party!" he muttered. "They'd put years on you. It'd be better for the campaign if they let the band go home. They'll frighten the old ladies. The state of them!"
The Green Party TD, Trevor Sargent, rather sheepishly owned up to responsibility for the band. "One of our members who's very involved in music may have invited them along," he said. "It's to attract young people who might not vote at all." He conceded, though, that few 18-year-olds were likely to have that style of music on their turntable.
Meanwhile, Adi Roche was getting a friendly welcome from the shoppers. A man grabbed her hand, which he kissed, and immediately engaged her in deep conversation. The French TV crew was impressed. "Why are you so in favour?" asked the reporter.
"I'm from Clonmel," he replied.
In Grafton Street the group was joined by the elderly lady who, clad in a black coat and beret and holding aloft a large crucifix draped in tricolour ribbons, regularly marches up and down denouncing perversion and appealing for a return to God. The Roche team steeled themselves for an assault.
None was coming. "Poor little Adi," she said, "after all she's done for the children. But you'll have to find God first," she warned her.