Brian Cowen, triumphant on his home turf, strode among his people and lapped up the adulation. Beaming like a contented Buddha, and seated beside two bishops during the opening ceremony, the Minister for Finance looked like he had polished off Richard Bruton and Joan Burton - for breakfast.
Yet, by mid-morning, he looked ready for a ploughman's lunch. Of lightly-boiled Greens perhaps? The establishment - from Uachtarán na hÉireann to the RTÉ weathermen - had come to pay homage at his culchie court. Comely maidens, sturdy athletic boy racers and ruddy-cheeked old timers looked on with delight: "Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew; That one small head could carry all he knew."
Goldsmith's villages were indeed deserted yesterday as all roads in rural Ireland led to Co Offaly and "the ploughin' " as the event is colloquially known.
To get here you'll need to negotiate gargantuan traffic jams with SUVs big enough to accommodate a troop surge, and enough spanking new cars to send the German ambassador into a tailspin. Wellingtons are de rigeur.
Minister for Agriculture Mary Coughlan wore a very fetching red and white striped pair, while Derval Monaghan from Rathfarnham, visiting with her boss, Minister of State Billy Kelleher, wore a very fetching pair in pink with white spots.
At 10.30am, the ploughing competitions started, but if the lonely furrows leave you cold, fear not. There's lots to see and do. The site is vast - over 60 acres of exhibition space with many tempting distractions - including displays of set-dancing, the Revenue Commissioners' "sniffer dogs" and a traditional three-card trick man.
At 11am sharp, the Tullamore Chainsaw Massacre erupted as a group of burly lumberjacks demonstrated the skills of power-sawing ahead of the Irish championships, which take place today.
The "sport" is big in the US and attracts a cult following, fuelled by coverage on cable television of annual "timbersports" events, sponsored by toolmaker Stihl, which are the "Olympics" of the American Axemen's Association. Comic book macho men - including Englishman Spike Milton - demonstrated the art of "hot saw" using "a €5,000, 65 horse-power" whopper of a chainsaw.
"Lovely girls" were undergoing a rebranding exercise. Limerick Ladies' Macra, from the village of Ballylanders, were promoting a saucy charity calendar showing "girls enjoying themselves on the farm".
"Miss May", Patricia Cahill, who posed lying provocatively on a bed of straw, said they were "trying to change the image of the organisation".
Some things don't change. The Fianna Fáil tent was mobbed. Sleek plasma screens showing looped images of the Taoiseach as world statesman while the huddled masses were treated to free tea and coffee - and a copy of the 1916 Proclamation for everybody in the audience.
The early morning call for the Taoiseach's resignation by the leader of the Labour Party was a big topic of conversation.
Enda Kenny, wearing hiking boots, was greeted warmly. His entourage's walkabout began with a visit to an adjacent tent of the Catholic archdiocese of Kildare & Leighlin before wheeling into the back-slapping bonhomie of the IFA tent.
Droves of salesmen with suspiciously clean fingernails were flogging everything from cars to wood chippers.
And boy, don't the horny-handed sons of toil have the spondoolicks. Between the torrents of money gushing from Brussels, soaring world grain prices, selling sites for "mad money" - and the lucrative part-time jobs in construction - most have never had it so good.
Local tourism officials handed out shopping bags bearing the legend: "Offaly, glad you came, come again". It's the best fun you can have in a pair of wellies.