Tribunal sketch:Dublin Castle formed the epicentre of a full-blown brawl yesterday, writes Miriam Lord
A very civilised one on the surface, to be sure, but there was no mistaking that the gloves were off, the fighting dirty, and it was happening on more than one front.
The toe-to-toe theatrics came to an end on Thursday after Bertie Ahern's latest appearance in the tribunal witness box. The time for eyeballing, throwing shapes and psyching out the opposition had ended.
If this were a conventional fight, under Queensberry rules, matters would be far more simple. Battling Bertie Ahern in one corner and Deathly Des O'Neill in the other. (Now there's an idea that would move a few tickets for a floodlit evening in Croke Park.)
But the necessary pretence is that these two are not slugging it out in a high stakes confrontation, where reputations hang in the balance and the consequences could be catastrophic for a lot of very important people. No, this is a fact-finding process. Taoiseach Ahern is a willing participant: "Takes a lot out of you, takes a lot of commitment, but you have to do it." He says it with a resigned shrug and a weary smile as he leaves the castle after another bruising session.
Tribunal lawyer O'Neill is merely going about the State-sanctioned work of the tribunal, in a manner which is "outcome neutral". But he trenchantly fights his corner. Yesterday morning, in a thrilling opener, having shipped a lot of blows in the intervening 12 hours, he launched a swift, bone- crunching counteroffensive.
The gallery was riveted as the Taoiseach's lawyer, Conor Maguire, mounted a robust defence of his man who was being "pilloried" by the tribunal's legal team in a manner which suggested an "agenda".
Immediately, judges Mahon and Keys replied with an equally robust and uncompromising defence of their even-handed treatment of all witnesses. Words such as "offensive" and "unacceptable" were advanced.
This was more than a skirmish, and no quarter was given by either side.
For most of the day, Battling Bertie and Deathly Des circled each other in this bloodless encounter, inflicting hours of tedium on spectators, who queued up nonetheless to see the contest unfold. The tension was near palpable. The moves, often mind-numbingly convoluted, holding a strange fascination.
Where is it all heading? When will it end? How did Bertie suddenly come by all this money? Why, for this simple and frugal man, did everything have to be so complicated? Where's the paperwork? When is it acceptable for a minister for finance to accept unvouched money from private sources? What, in heaven's name, was/is going on? But this is a team sport too, involving a substantial cast of characters, hence the combat on the margins.
Between the close of business on Thursday and the close of business yesterday, six heavyweight Government Ministers had been rolled out on various radio programmes to signal their support for the Taoiseach and question the motives of the tribunal.
They specialise in throwing verbal haymakers, otherwise known as media spin.
Sometimes, it seemed as if the proceedings in the Mahon tribunal chamber were a mere sideshow in an escalating push to win a war of headlines and soundbites.
Journalists in Dublin Castle ended up monitoring developments on the outside as much as the grindingly slow action in the hall.
Willie O'Dea blows a fuse on the lunchtime news. Dick Roche launches his attack on the morning bulletin. Dermot Ahern rumbles out the night before. And so it goes. Then the Opposition starts to limber up.
A small measure of the importance of the current hearing could be seen in Bertie Ahern's defiant gesture to supporters as he was about to leave the castle yard. He had withstood another gruelling four hours in the witness box - frustrated, forthcoming, perplexed, polite, combative, churlish, charming. But he didn't lose his rag the way he did on Thursday. He rolled with the punches. Finally, he was able to escape for his Christmas break. A small crowd, as has become the norm, gathered in the yard to await his exit.
Two middle aged men came with placards with crucifixes at the top and an apocalyptic message underneath. They stood by quietly when the Taoiseach was leaving.
Behind the press barrier was a small group of students. Away to their left, directly in front of where the Taoiseach's car was parked, was an equally small knot of his supporters. Eventually, Bertie bustled out, smiling, always smiling.
The optics are important, for this is a fight on several fronts. He stopped and gave a few words to reporters. He sighed and shrugged and said it had been a long few years for him and the tribunal, but it had to be done.
What about the conspicuous spin of Ministers that had been trotted out over the last 24 hours? Another shrug, another sigh. They'd be criticised if they did, and criticised if they didn't.
His words were drowned out by the noisy roars of the students, and some older observers, who bellowed abuse.
But clearly, it had been decided he was not going to allow the final images of his last tribunal appearance in 2007 to be ones of him scuttling quickly to his car under a chorus of boos. He walked towards the waiting Mercedes as his supporters applauded, stopping at the door, then moving forward to shake their hands. Smiling, always smiling.
Then, in his own time, Bertie got into the car. But as he was stepping in, he clenched his fist. Fixing his eyes straight ahead on the Fianna Fáil supporters, he flexed his arm and showed them his fist. They cheered, and the car pulled away. The evidence of the last two days will be picked apart and analysed in the weeks to come. Even though formal sessions have concluded until next year, the brawling will continue.
Supporters of the Taoiseach will take solace in the knowledge that there was no "knockout blow". The Opposition will say he is "on the ropes". But, in the dying minutes of yesterday's proceedings, another, apparently new payment to the Taoiseach, was introduced to the mix. It will be added to the questions he still has to answer.
Season's greetings were exchanged between the principals. "We wish everyone a happy Christmas, including Mr Ahern," said a relieved looking Chairman Mahon.
"And if I can, chairman, and to the judges and to the tribunal legal team and to my own legal team, thank you," added Battling Bertie, flashing a lovely smile at Deathly Des.
"Many happy returns," dripped Des, smiling back.
Bertie must come back again in the new year for more of the same. Is he victim, villain or something in between? Have we got the Taoiseach all wrong, or is the lingering smell emanating from the bizarre story of a former minister for finance's money pointing in the opposite direction? Will the tribunal be allowed get on with the job it was appointed to do? One thing was inescapable yesterday: that there is something so, so, unseemly about all of this.