Dáil Sketch / Miriam Lord: Rocco Bye Bertie, Granda's on top / When the polls close, three terms on the trot / When the Dáil breaks, they'll vote Fianna Fáil / And down will come Rabbitte, Enda and all . . .
Bertie, now that you have become a grandfather, would you ever put us out of our misery and call the election? We're going mad here.
There's talk of nothing else in Leinster House but the date. (The rest of this page might show otherwise, but don't be fooled. They can think of nothing else but the election.) And there's Bertie in his baby pink shirt and baby pink tie, driving them mad, gurgling happily like a mischievous twin and refusing to be drawn.
It's torture. There is no refuge from the permutations. In the restaurant. In the bar. In the corridors. Out on the plinth.
Why the Taoiseach will make the announcement today. Why he will make it tomorrow. Not at all. He'll do it next week.
Are you stupid? It's going to be the second week in May.
Should Granda Bertie - pockets full of gobstoppers and Werther Originals from now on - toddle into the chamber today and end the torment, there will be a nice symmetry to his action. With a four-week campaign and allowing for the bank holiday, polling day would be on May 24th, which was the date of election day in 2002.
Bertie is a creature of habit. It would be just like him to do that.
We are clutching at straws.
Of course, with a shorter campaign, he could still go for May 17th. Not that the Taoiseach is letting on. Has the man no compassion? Is he so impervious to the suffering of others? Did the birth last week of little Jay Nicky and Rocco Bertie not soften Bertie's heart a little?
For a marvellous few minutes yesterday, it appeared that besotted Bertie had let slip the date while answering a question on the co-location of private hospitals on public land.
It came in the middle of a reply to Pat Rabbitte, who wanted to know if the policy would be pushed through before the election is called.
"The timescale to finish and complete the entire process is going to take several weeks after the 17th of May, so the answer is: it can't be concluded in the short term . . ." began Bertie.
As soon as he mentioned the magic numbers, dozing denizens of the press gallery opened an interested eye. There followed an unseemly gallop outside by the media. Deputies began digging each other in the ribs. (Except for the Fianna Fáil backbenchers, who are in such a state of nervous collapse they are now incapable of coherent thought.) Whereupon Bertie pointed out that he had been talking about the date tenders are due to be submitted to the HSE. The man was taunting us.
He's heartless. "You won't get any election until those two babbies are out of the percolators and ready for the photo opportunity" was the prevailing opinion in the bar last night.