There was much fun, some of a farmyard variety, at the DUP conference, writes Suzanne Breen.
It was the biggest, boldest and most boisterous conference any party in the North has held this year. The DUP is on the way up, and it knows it.
The party was written-off after the Belfast Agreement, said its deputy leader, Peter Robinson. The road had been long and hard, "but the dark days and tough times are in our rear- view mirror".
"We are a dynamic party. We represent new unionism. We fear no-one," he said to cheers and applause.
A total of 750 delegates packed into Belfast's Europa Hotel. "It's very crowded," said one party organiser. "We really would have needed more space but we couldn't find a venue in the city big enough for us."
Mr Robinson noted that David Trimble and anti-agreement MP Jeffrey Donaldson were increasingly close.
It was certainly a "marriage of convenience", with David the "blushing groom" and Jeffrey "the ill-at-ease bride".
"Some say it was a white wedding. Others, a white flag wedding. Some were surprised it took place at all. But they had no choice but to get married - there was a little election on the way."
Mr Robinson thought Jeffrey too innocent: "He is being cruelly used. David is only marrying him for his votes." And what did the couple use for confetti? "That's easy - shredded Ulster Unionist manifestoes."
Assembly member Edwin Poots compared the UUP team to farmyard animals. The grave-looking former Culture Minister, Michael McGimpsey, resembled a horse "although the horse's face isn't as long".
Sir Reg Empey was "like a wee hen in a cage" with a "spindly wee neck, pecking and chirping away - though at least a laying hen does one useful thing a day".
North Down MP Lady Sylvia Hermon, was "the peacock, proudly strutting around - nice fan of feathers but no useful purpose". Jeffrey Donaldson was a collie dog, "useful for rounding up the sheep but hopeless at killing rats".
Jeffrey knew what had to be done and tried hard to do it, but every time he tackled a republican rodent, he dropped it from his mouth because he "doesn't have the killer instinct".
Finally, there was David Trimble himself. A little red around the gills, flapping about a lot without getting off the ground, he was the UUP's turkey.
But, said Mr Poots, there was one difference: "Unlike Trimble, even turkeys would have more wit than to vote for Christmas."