DAIL SKETCH:NOBODY KNEW anything about it until well after the dust had settled. A crack team of Anglo Commandos, operating deep inside Ireland's notorious Golden Circle, parachuted into the treacherous "Quinn Overhang" and carried out a dramatic sharelift from underneath the nose of the snoozing authorities. Anglo's 10 Commandos – a hand-picked wealthy elite – covered their tracks with their usual efficiency. These boys set their own rules. They don't leave prints behind.

News of their daring raid only came to light when the ruling banking regime began to crumble.

Now, the race is on to discover the identity of the 10 Commandos. Should it be discovered that any of them have links to the Government, it’ll be curtains for Cowen.

This is a deathly serious business. “We weren’t involved in this at all. This was an internal bank matter,” stressed the Taoiseach during a highly charged Leaders’ Questions. An interruption from veteran Fine Gael backbencher PJ Sheehan summed up the disturbing question that lies at the heart of what is becoming a major political crisis: “Who’s the boss of this Government?”

Brian Cowen was convincing in his defence of that Government, the job he has to do as its leader and his personal integrity. “I am not protecting anybody, only the Irish taxpayer and the Irish national interest.” His anger at what he sees as base political opportunism by an Opposition more intent on point scoring than pitching in was palpable.

He tore into an impressive Enda Kenny for making insinuations that he is withholding incriminating information. An incandescent Cowen bridled at the very suggestion that he might be protecting individuals. “Totally baseless . . . contemptuous . . . a political slur . . . a smear campaign.”

But Enda Kenny was not for turning: “Who, in heaven’s name, made a decision not to pursue these 10 people?”

But there was an interesting reaction from Government backbenchers to their leader’s trenchant defence. Usually, when Brian Cowen ditches his briefing notes, the troops perk up. Not so yesterday. From a gloomy front bench back to the worried-looking foot soldiers, the Fianna Fáil deputies looked like men and women bracing themselves for pain.

Their coalition partners were nowhere to be seen. Wherever the Greens were hiding, their ears much have been burning, for Enda was scathing in his assessment. Green ministers may “bleat in the distance” for resignations and action, but they remain “with their posteriors superglued to the seats in Cabinet.” As he spoke, we understand the OPW was trying to chisel John Gormley and Eamon Ryan from their sycamore and leather chairs.The last we heard, they were talking about calling in the fire brigade.

And so it fell to Dan Boyle to go into various radio and television studios to quiver that the Green Party would have to reconsider its position if any information emerged implicating politicians.

Dan is fast becoming the Michael McDowell of this shaky administration. There are shades of the former PD leader scuttling out on to the plinth, standing on his party’s dignity, demanding answers from his partners, then crying wolf.

But the Boyle sideshow just added to the deepening sense of worry. There was talk of election in the air. The TDs are tense.

Eamon Gilmore, following fresh upon Enda’s dark insinuations, did little to help their mood. He brought up the very complicated issue of CFDs – a cheap, low-tax way of speculating on share prices that ultimately contributed to Anglo’s fall from grace.

In 2006, the Revenue acted to close the tax loophole afforded by this sort of financial legerdemain, which brought about the “Quinn Overhang” and led to the deployment of the 10 Commandos of Anglo. But, in a matter of days, following intense lobbying, then minister for finance Brian Cowen reversed the move. A dramatic revelation, delivered with exquisite timing by Gilmore. Government backbenchers imploded. The Taoiseach began, after a stalled attempt, to explain. But, despite the release of documentation afterwards, the damage was done.

Gilmore wanted to know the identity of the lobbyists. Cowen’s distracted backbenchers blanched each time the word was mentioned. Lobbyist? Oh, dear God, let it not be Frank Dunlop.

The Taoiseach talked about Ju Process, big brother of Joo Diligence. But they weren’t really listening. So what if the lobbyists aren’t connected to Anglo Irish Bank, any members of Government or any of the 10 Commandos? A doubt remains.

Even if it’s all on the level, Brian Cowen is losing. How come ordinary people and ordinary organisations, with legitimate concerns, can’t get past the gates of Government Buildings to lobby, and bodies connected to share dealing can get an immediate hearing within days and an unquestioning reversal of policy? By tea time, some backbenchers were beginning to talk. A senior Minister told them that there was much worse to come. No wonder they all looked so dejected.

There’s a strange feeling in the air. The experienced deputies recognised it all too well. Rumour is building upon rumour. Everyone is jittery. What’s going to happen? So to cheer us all up, here’s a song: “Do you want your old lobbyist washed down, Brian Cowen, Do you want your old lobbyist washed down? He sighs every day as his nerves start to fray, Do you want your old lobbyist washed down.”