We've all waited six long years for Mr Pádraig Flynn to tell his story, but it wouldn't have done the tribunal any harm to leave things for another day by asking Mr Flynn to "reflect" on his evidence.
At times yesterday the former Fianna Fáil minister's lack of recollection about the handling of the £50,000 he got from developer Mr Tom Gilmartin stretched credulity to breaking point.
Here it was, the biggest donation he got in his political career, "a monstrous, enormous sum" in the words of tribunal lawyers, and equivalent to a year's ministerial salary.
So what did he do with it? According to Mr Flynn, he simply passed the cheque on to his wife, Dorothy, and asked no more questions.
Some £50,000 disappears off his financial radar, and he doesn't feel the need to inquire what happened to it. He didn't discuss it "as such" with his wife and he didn't notice its non-appearance in his current account.
No surprise then that Judge Alan Mahon, who is less inclined to express exasperation than his predecessor, Mr Justice Feargus Flood, found it all "puzzling".
With Mr Flynn, his wife, Dorothy, and the manager of their branch at AIB Castlebar in the late 1980s all telling the tribunal they know nothing about the non-resident accounts that were set up in the Flynns' name, we are left with yet another tribunal puzzle.
Add to this Ms Beverley Flynn and her "selective amnesia" about the details of the money she invested for her parents, and you have a heart-warming tableau of family unity.
Not that Mr Flynn's limited powers of recollection are confined to the Gilmartin money. Some £155,000 was lodged in the three non-resident accounts in the Flynns' name that the former EU commissioner cannot recollect, we heard yesterday. Of this, almost £80,000 cannot be accounted for.
Having told the tribunal four years ago the money was "an accumulation of political donations," he then instructed his lawyers to say this was wrong and he didn't really know the source of any of the money.
Mr Flynn also had difficulty explaining why he accepted the developer's £50,000 in the first place. After all, four months before the payment, he knew most of the allegations Mr Gilmartin was making, including those about Mr Liam Lawlor, a fellow member of Fianna Fáil.
By his own account, he took them so seriously that he called gardaí in to investigate.
Yet none of this caused him to pause about accepting Mr Gilmartin's windfall. He didn't feel the need, in the words of a tribunal lawyer, Ms Patricia Dillon SC, to "hold on a minute and take care" because, as he put it, he "trusted" Mr Gilmartin.
Further, and in conformity with all similar evidence at this tribunal, he never offered a receipt or acknowledgment. And why? Because he was never asked for one.
As with other witnesses in similar situations, Ms Dillon made most progress following the money trail. There was little of Mr Flynn's trademark rambunctiousness on display yesterday morning as the tribunal lawyer pursued the strange twists and turns of the Gilmartin money in embarrassing detail.
However, while this £50,000 formed a large component of the funds that were ultimately used to buy a farm in Co Mayo and to cover other personal expenses, the figures supported Mr Flynn's right to at least claim that little of this money was actually used for these purposes.
The fact is that no one can prove conclusively that Mr Gilmartin's cheque was the money that ended up growing trees on Mrs Flynn's farm and reaping handsome EU grants. Once money from different sources was mixed up, it was impossible to tell.
Mr Flynn was also on surer ground when quizzed about his ministerial work and his support for Mr Gilmartin's project at Bachelor's Walk. Here, the political autopilot kicked in again, and a decent level of recall was restored.
He was his usual expansive self when expounding on the art of political campaigning in his Mayo constituency. His description of election fundraising bore a remarkable similarity to Ray Burke's in an earlier phase of the tribunal.
His evidence continues today.