The optimism at the conference faltered during the party leader's gloom-laden speech, writes Miriam Lord
BREATHLESS BENEATH Enda's vibrating rafters, the sweating faithful leapt to their feet and surrendered themselves to the moment.
You are the lucky ones, the Fine Gael leader told his oscillating foot soldiers. Lucky to be enjoying the Saturday night pleasures of Fine Gael in the flesh.
But it was a bitter-sweet experience for Inda Kinny.
"We meet at the best of times and at the worst of times," he began, in a highly original opening to his keynote address.
For him, the best of times is a hall packed with throbbing Blueshirts. And the worst? His speech painted a post apocalyptic landscape of misery, fear, casualties and the "unfortunately dead". Enda was spoilt for choice.
"We stand amid catastrophe," he quivered.
Some television viewers refused to go outdoors after tuning in to him. So give us your worst of times, Deputy Kenny.
Is it the young people, "spun loose and lost" and fearful? Or is it the old people, "tossed in the air like ash blowing in a wind?" Eh, no.
"Out there, joining us in their sitting rooms and their kitchens, are people who can't share the buzz and excitement that make the rafters of this place vibrate." That's sad, right enough.
Although it was hard to fathom why Inda was suddenly feeling so concerned for members of Fianna Fáil.
In fact, Inda Kinny was terribly concerned for everyone, except Bertie Ahern, on Saturday night. Bertie came in for more stick at the conference than Brian Cowen, with much comment on his alleged middleman role between certain big banks and possible moneybag suitors. Yet another instance of the former taoiseach continuing to steal his successor's thunder, and not in a good way.
MEP Mairéad McGuinness summed up the party's attitude to Bertie's latest exploits earlier in the day. "The notion of a former taoiseach on crutches hawking Ireland Inc around the globe is an appalling vista. There comes a time - and I think the former taoiseach needs to realise it is that time - to hang up his crutches."
The sentiment expressed in the latter part of Mairéad's statement is not strictly true. The Fine Gael top brass were delighted at the weekend by the way Bertie is putting himself about. By all means, hang up the crutches, but not just yet, when the party is still riding high in the opinion polls.
Those recent polls were the main reason why party members were in such high spirits over the week. When the Sunday Business Post figures came through on Saturday afternoon, the Blueshirts were cock-a-hoop. Young pup Leo Varadkar took himself off by way of celebration to the cryotherapy centre in White's Hotel, where he was briefly frozen for the good of his health.
We asked him afterwards what it was like.
"It was cool. Yeah, very cool," replied Leo, without a hint of irony.
Back in the conference hall, Enda stood in front of a backdrop which read "New Team. Ready to Govern." Which was much better than what he said was behind the viewers at home .
"People are watching us against a background of misery and fear. Yes. Misery. And Fear," he intoned.
The Fine Gael leader isn't great at introducing light and shade when he speaks. Every utterance is conveyed in the same deep, portentous tones.
He could have said: "People are watching us against a background of peaches and cream. Yes. Peaches. And Cream." And it would have sounded just as ominous.
Enda made his big entrance to the music of Take That. But not before Richard Bruton, who emerged over the weekend as the crowd's overwhelming favourite, tried to introduce some jokes into his speech on the economy.
The Government had binged and grown fat during the good years and is now refusing to recognise what the scales are telling them. Yet, tittered Richard, they still think they can pirouette.
He offered the unsettling image of the Brians Cowen and Lenihan "in their ill-fitting tutus". The crowd loved it. The good-looking young ones in the off the shoulder dresses, who were put sitting near the front for the television cameras, help up their phones and took tittering Richard's photo.
The song chosen for the entrance of Inda Kinny is called Shine. But not in Enda's case, as he had more powder on his face than you'd find on an Alpine ski slope.
Midway through his speech, he tried to inject some Barack Obama feel-good rhetoric.
Remember Grant Park in Chicago and those uplifting chants of "Yes, we can." Enda, only Enda, could try to turn "Yes, we can" into "No it's not!" Delegates, frothing under the vibrating rafters, joined in half-heartedly.
The phrase might take off in the Dáil though.
Enda: this is the worst Government in the history of the State. Biffo: No it's not! And so on.
As conference speeches go, Enda's effort was fine, if rather too gloom-laden.
Curiously, the air of enthusiasm and happy optimism that pervaded the occasion wasn't there during key points in the leader's speech.
Subtract the roaring and buck-lepping at the beginning and the end, and his audience was quite subdued. The rafters in White's Hotel were quite safe.
The faithful perked up quickly, spurred on by a parting promise from the podium to "lift this country off its knees and turn its face to the sun". And while Enda got on with the heavy lifting, they flexed their knees and did The Hucklebuckunder the vibrating rafters to a band called Denny Davitt and The Heartbeats.