Michael McDowell was so very happy there was every possibility he might explode. The new PD leader floated up the steps of the Westin Hotel and was bounced into a side room by handlers, who tethered him to a heavy table until the preliminaries were done, writes Miriam Lord.
"We've a minute to go, lads," he squealed excitedly.
High-ranking underlings, Tom Parlon and Liz O'Donnell, moved into position, firmly anchoring themselves on either side of the gently levitating lawyer. Then, once everyone was satisfied that Michael would not drift out the window, the two set about signing his nomination papers.
Tom appended his signature first, followed by Liz. She sat and signed with the sort of elegantly authoritative flourish that wouldn't look out of place in Áras an Uachtaráin. People fell to thinking . . .
Finally. After all the years of working and waiting, barking and biting, Michael McDowell's moment was upon him. Hand poised, his pen hovered over the paper. Such excitement. We thought of Dr Jekyll raising that foaming test-tube to his lips for the first time.
Anything could happen.
"I hereby accept the position of party leader of the Progressive Democrats."
How those words must have thrilled him. Nevertheless, Mr McDowell's legal training kicked in. He scanned the document first, looked at the date and checked his watch to make sure it was correct. Then, to a round of applause, he signed.
Immediately, the euphorically red-faced leader of the soon-to-be Aggressive Democrats was whisked into another room to be fitted with rubber teeth. Just a temporary precaution until he settles.
While this was going on, Mary Harney's husband, Brian Geoghegan, arrived to witness McDowell's installation, which would take place in the impressively opulent surroundings of the hotel's Banking Hall. Brian hasn't stopped grinning since his wife decided to throw in the tánaiste's towel during a moment of clarity in Tuscany.
The Banking Hall, with its enormous crystal chandeliers, marble pillars and gilded columns, provided a fitting backdrop to Mr McDowell's accession. Presumably, given the enormous welcome the self-important PDs have for themselves, Dublin Castle's Throne Room was unavailable for their small but perfectly formed celebration.
To underline the sense of unity the party wants to portray following Michael's relatively smooth path to the leadership, PD icon Des O'Malley slipped in through a side door and gave his blessing to the new regime. He was mobbed, in the nicest way, by admiring lawyers and PD ladies with impressive Monday morning hair.
Not long after midday, guests were told to take their seats. When the double doors at the back opened, everyone turned to look at a radiant Michael McDowell as he glided up the aisle, almost on the arm of a smiling Mary Harney.
No wonder she looked pleased. She was giving him away.
Following behind, the two lovely bridesmaids: new deputy leader, Liz, and new party president, Tom. There should have been some music. Wagner, perhaps.
It was a very short ceremony. The party chairman formally declared Mr McDowell elected to the position of party leader. There was more applause. Mary Harney looked happy enough to cry.
And so, a new era dawned for the Aggressive Democrats. Michael ambled across to the microphone, script in hand.
To the delight of his handlers and sinking hearts of the hacks, he stuck to it, word for word.
He remembered his manners and thanked everyone who helped him get to where he is today. He thanked Tom Parlon and Liz O'Donnell for their "generous and selfless agreement" to nominate him for the job, and for agreeing to join him at the head of the party.
Liz studied the chandeliers with interest.
True to form, Mr McDowell couldn't resist indulging in a bit of Latin. The lawyers present swooned, particularly as it was the Gonzaga School motto that he quoted. "Fortuna favet fortibus," he boomed.
This will have come as welcome news to his right-hand man, Senator Tommy Morrissey, who has long been arguing for more buses. Forty is a good start.
Truth to tell, all this cuddly, Dimples McDowell act was becoming tiresome. Not before time, the Minister for Justice began to revert to type.
"While my primary focus today is on the business and the future of the Progressive Democrats, I think it is only right to point out some fundamental realities . . ." Whereupon he embarked on the first of many swipes at the Fine Gael/Labour coalition.
"The entire political enterprise, in reality, amounts to a recipe for a Slump Coalition," he announced, repeating this "Slump Coalition" jibe at every opportunity. As killer slogans go, it's nowhere near, but Michael is determined to stick with it, which means he thought it up all by himself.
In this dawning age of the Aggressive Democrat, politics will be restored as a noble pursuit, engaged in setting out "a vision to bring Ireland forward to new heights". Michael McDowell wants people to know that he and his new very best friend, Bertie Ahern, "share the value that politics is not about survival, but achievement".
While exploring this touching revelation, the leaders of the Opposition came to Michael's mind.
He took out the rubber teeth, all the better to blow his own trumpet on the subject of his great achievements in Justice.
"I look at Enda and Pat, who have 48 years of Dáil experience between them. I won't say anything negative here today, but I will say this: an outstanding achievement doesn't immediately leap to mind in respect of either of them."
He just couldn't help himself. You can teach an attack dog new tricks. But the old ones never leave him, thank God.
"Will you be cutting down on the red meat?" a fearful journalist asked.
"I will not disappoint the media," dripped McDowell, drawing the most pathetically heartfelt applause of the day.
And with that, the parliamentary party went off to lunch. Michael, we understand, played safe and had the fish.