An Ahern-Paisley entente seemed possible when the two met in the Irish Embassy's smallest room, Newton Emerson fantasises
"MR AHERN!"
The Taoiseach jumped at the booming brogue - not enough to sprinkle his shoes, mercifully, but enough, no doubt, for Paisley to realise that he had startled him.
"I suppose if David Trimble can talk to Gerry Adams in the toilet at Stormont, then I can talk to you in the toilet of the Irish Embassy!" shouted Paisley, his voice closer now, too close. Thank God Mark Durkan was in here as well, thought the Taoiseach, risking a glance over his shoulder. But Durkan had disappeared.
Wasn't that just typical of the SDLP? Always pissing about right up until the minute you needed them. So, with an inward sigh and an outward "Ah, hello, there, Dr Paisley," he turned around to greet the new old leader of unionism.
"Mr Ahern, you have failed to address the issue of flags!" replied Paisley.
"Not a great start to the negotiations," muttered the Taoiseach as he fumbled with his zipper.
"THEY ARE NOT NEGOTIATIONS!" barked back Paisley, suddenly furious yet conspicuously unable to refute the accusation - and there was the problem in a nutshell. For Paisley, attending all-party talks was both victory and defeat, vindication and humiliation, a recognition of his vote and a betrayal of his mandate. It had all been so much easier last week dealing with the loyalists, reflected the Taoiseach wistfully. They had no mandate.
"Mr Ahern, now that you are decent I would like a few words about a matter on which we both agree," continued Paisley. The Taoiseach's heart skipped a beat - was this the moment he had been promised? Had triumph finally transformed Paisley's insecurity into statesmanship? Was mortality forcing him to ponder his legacy? Could those morons at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office possibly have been right after all?
"Neither of us are prepared to have Sinn Féin-IRA in government!" finished Paisley, flashing a triumphant smirk.
So much for the wisdom of Whitehall. Yet as the Taoiseach found himself conspicuously unable to refute the accusation he wondered if this could actually be the solution.
Paisley might not have changed one iota in the past 30 years, but the rest of Ireland had changed beyond recognition. All he had to do was persuade the man that Ireland was changing in his general direction.
Right then, thought the Taoiseach, strolling over to the sink, time to turn on the charm.
"You're absolutely right, Dr Paisley," he said, applying two decisive squirts of finest Irish soft soap.
"We don't want Sinn Féin poisoning our well either, and as nobody has more experience than you in keeping them out of government, frankly I wouldn't mind a few pointers."
"ARE YOU MOCKING ME, MR AHERN?" screamed Paisley.
Damn. Damn. "No, Ian, not at all, certainly not. I'm quite serious."
Like a squall on the Sea of Galilee Paisley's temper vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The sudden calm was unnerving. "That's Royal Doulton porcelain, you know," observed Paisley quietly. "No doubt Adams and McGuinness will be 'offended'." He chuckled, and the Taoiseach smiled.
"We have a common enemy, Mr Ahern," continued Paisley, "and in that regard - and ONLY that regard - we may be friends."
So the ice was broken, but how to continue? As the outburst a moment ago had revealed, Paisley must be only too aware that he had no "pointers" on keeping Sinn Féin out of government, beyond keeping everyone out of government, which, alas, was not a solution applicable to the Republic. But then Paisley surprised him.
"The truth is that you are already doing a fine job, Mr Ahern," he said. "You have accepted the democratic will of the Protestant people, you have spoken out against terrorists in government, you have refused to release murderers from prison, you have challenged the sinful lies of the Sinn Féin-IRA mafia, you are learning to say 'No' and perhaps even 'Never'.
"Most of all, Mr Ahern, while doing all of this you are quietly building up an excellent working relationship with the UDA. Now, are your hands clean?"
With that last question the spell was broken, yet looking into the old preacher's eyes he felt that he saw a father's pride.
"We must keep each other informed on our progress, Dr Paisley," said the Taoiseach conspiratorially. "We should meet more often, we should work together, we should - dare I say it - unite?"
In the cubicle behind them, unheard above their laughter, Mark Durkan began to sob.
• Newton Emerson is editor of the satirical website portadownnews.com