If the Taoiseach lost the debate with Mr Michael Noonan on Tuesday, nobody he met in Carlow or Kilkenny yesterday was brave enough to tell him so.
The verdict of the pundits, it seemed, held little sway with the succession of well-wishers congratulating Mr Ahern on his performance and assuring him that victory had been his by a wide margin.
It wasn't really lack of bravery. They meant it. "You did us proud," he was told by a number of Fianna Fáil supporters as he raced through the streets of both county towns at typical breakneck speed, shaking every hand that was offered, and there were many.
Mr Ahern may look uncomfortable in the television studio, but on the streets he is a different man and nothing can faze him.
Not even having a gaggle of teenage girls chasing him down the High Street in Kilkenny, calling his name and surrounding him at every opportunity to ask for his autograph.
He didn't blush when one of them bared her midriff to show off a newly-pierced navel and told him: "I got that done in honour of you, Bertie." She would, she told the Taoiseach, definitely be voting for him. "When I'm 18."
Autograph hunters were asked for their names and got a personalised "best wishes" from "Bertie Ahern".
It was as if the schoolgirls expected Mr Ahern to produce Westlife from his pocket at any moment. But the pop group was never mentioned. It was the magic of Bertie they were after.
Earlier in the day, in Carlow town centre, there were no pierced navels on display but otherwise the reaction was the same. Mr Ahern has been criticised for his apparently superficial campaign, shaking hands at record pace while engaging in little serious debate. But it is clear that for many people, even a handshake with the Taoiseach is a moment to be treasured.
People who did want to debate with him yesterday were given time and attention. In Carlow, Ms Eileen Dillon told him she had been the victim of a road traffic accident four years ago in which the driver had no insurance.
She was "paying through the nose" for medical expenses since.
"So you had no claim, you're getting stuck with the whole costs?" he asked. The health board should be able to assist, he suggested. She had tried that route.After further detailed discussion he told her to give her details to party representatives.
In Kilkenny, a succession of people were waiting to meet him, from an action group angry about plans to build a complex for asylum-seekers in their area, to Mr Gerry Kelly, a campaigner on child sex-abuse issues unhappy it had taken so long for the Laffoy commission to begin its hearings.
Mostly, however, people simply wanted to shake his hand and say "Howya Bertie?"
Reflecting on three weeks of similar activity, he had, he said, "hit over 350 venues" since the campaign began.
