Where would we be without Eamon Dunphy to add to the gaiety of the nation? He was in the Mahon tribunal yesterday to talk about what he knew about developer Owen O'Callaghan "taking care" of Bertie. Oh, joy of joys! Eamon "I am a human being first, I am a journalist second, I am a citizen of this country" Dunphy didn't disappoint, writes Miriam Lordat Dublin Castle.
He gave as good as he got.
It was pure Eamo sitting up there in the witness box. A birdlike figure leaning over the ledge, lips pursing and unpursing, neck flexing and unflexing, head twitching, body rising up and down like the hydraulics on an old Citroen.
He mentioned John Giles once, and you could see the gallery wanted to applaud, but thought the better of it.
But why was Eamon there? He was called to give evidence because he says he had a conversation 10 years ago with O'Callaghan, who told him he had "taken care" and "looked after" Bertie Ahern, but the then minister for finance "failed to deliver."
As Dunphy recalls it, the developer had been looking for tax designation for a shopping centre he was building in Athlone. But despite looking after Ahern, he didn't come through with the goods. O'Callaghan told him that the then taoiseach, Albert Reynolds , "put a gun to his head" and made Bertie sign the designation order in the dying hours of his government.
Both Ahern and O'Callaghan strenuously deny this.
The controversial journalist's time in the witness box proved a surreal few hours in the history of the Mahon tribunal. Owen O'Callaghan's lawyer, Paul Sreenan, spent most of them trying to divine why Dunphy hadn't blown the whistle on O'Callaghan and Ahern years ago. He zeroed in on how Dunphy has often proclaimed how he values "moral courage" in people.
Where was his moral courage, his outrage, down through all the years when stuff was coming out about planning corruption in high places? The lawyer approached his witness as a man of high integrity, who demanded it of others, in his writing and broadcasts. He found it very strange that Dunphy, of all people, could remain quiet about what he had been told by Owen O'Callaghan.
Dunphy was incredulous at this line of questioning. "I'm a very flawed human being," he insisted. The gallery chuckled its assent.
For his part, the witness described in detail how O'Callaghan told him about his dealings with Ahern. The man had never mentioned money, or bribes or corruption. But Dunphy was very, very sure that O'Callaghan meant giving the minister for finance inducements in return for a favour.
Yesterday, one feeling remained about Eamon Dunphy's story, after all the hours of philosophical talk of moral courage and journalistic integrity and going to the tribunal to seek revenge for a friend he thought had been done a "dastardly" wrong by Ahern's government.
It was that his recollection of what he was told by Owen O'Callaghan sounded entirely credible, and that the manner in which he came to tell it to the tribunal was neither here nor there.
Dunphy convinced. He sounded like a man who exists in the real world. "Can I say to you, you're seeing the world in cartoon simplistic terms, and it's proving rather tiresome," he told Sreenan.
As far as Eamon sees it, he heard some dodgy talk from Owen O'Callaghan (a man he deeply respects and holds in high regard) about Bertie Ahern (a man he also respects and holds in high regard.) Paul Sreenan couldn't understand why a high-minded journalist like Dunphy didn't want to shout his information from the rooftops. Eamon replied that, contrary to popular belief, he isn't a Rottweiler.
"In fact, some might say I'm a bit of a pussycat."
The exchange meandered on, by way of Eamon's court cases and TV appearances and a time he was supposed to have got overexcited at the reopening of Dobbins restaurant and shouted "Up Enda Kenny!" at the Taoiseach, followed by "I love you, Bertie."
There were walk-on parts for John Waters and Eoghan Harris, by way of Dunphy's appearance on the Late Late Show.
Why didn't Eamon say what he knew about Bertie then? "What do you mean, just pop it in!" snorted Eamo, laughing.
If he had done that, going on mere hearsay, he would have been sued to high heaven.
Dunphy insisted he heard what he heard. Believe me, or don't believe me, was his attitude. He was telling his story, "contradictions and all". Of course, the thing is, what did looking after Bertie mean? It mightn't have meant giving him money at all. Going on what the tribunal has been told about poor Bertie's circumstances, Owen O'Callaghan was probably just making sure the minister was clothed and feeding himself properly.
After all, the poor man only had the guts of a hundred thousand euro in spare cash to keep body and soul together.