Bertie Ahern marched into the Treasury Building, a crush of supporters crowding around him, writes Miriam Lord
"Ten more years! Ten more years!" they chanted with frightening intensity, as the music swelled and passions surged. This was the election rally to end all rallies: overhead, a huge banner of the Taoiseach stretched two storeys between the balconies in the soaring atrium, reinforcing the slightly unnerving atmosphere of invincibility.
"Bertie! Bertie! Bertie!" roared the crowd, waving banners, holding up their mobile phones and clicking like crazy. Babies were being thrust in the air.
Had we missed something? It was like the election was already over, with Bertie back in power.
The uncertainty and despondency of the last three weeks was gone. With a revitalised leader back at the helm, one sensed these people felt they had turned the corner and were back in the game. The occasion was suffused with American-style razzmatazz, right down to the party handlers poised with balloons and ticker-tape in their eyrie above the podium.
A measure of Fianna Fáil's confidence stood in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by velvet ropes and four security guards. None of the faithful appeared to notice it, and neither Minister Séamus Brennan - who did the warm-up - nor Bertie Ahern chose to draw attention to it.
The rich marbled interior of the Treasury Building, Fianna Fáil's election headquarters, is a monument to Ireland's prosperity. The long sliver of dark wood, rising high from a shallow stone plinth, looked like an expensive peace of corporate art.
But the security guards' presence hinted at something more significant. They were not there to watch out for the Taoiseach's safety. While he rallied the troops, they were protecting the striking wooden installation.
Their job yesterday was to mind this priceless 6,000-year-old bog oak needle. The piece was brought from the National Museum to form the centrepiece of Fianna Fáil's rally. There's confidence, if proof were needed, of the way the Solidiers of Destiny were feeling about themselves with four days to go to polling.
In his speech, Bertie Ahern urged his supporters to make one last push for votes. "When times were rough, you all stood up to it and everything worked out," he said.
"I want to thank you for caring so much." The grassroots fizzed. They punctuated the Taoiseach's words with cheers and applause.
He ran though the achievements of his Government to unquestioning acclaim. Then, for this was the final clarion call to the troops, he rubbished the rainbow.
Enda Kenny's contract is "a fraud" perpetrated on the people of Ireland, proclaimed Bertie. "We've four days to expose it!" he thundered, as the supporters went into overdrive. Above, the handlers started to loosen the net on the balloons.
Bertie began pouring derision on Fine Gael's promises. There is not a child alive today who will benefit from their plan to give free GP care to the under-fives. "And I thought my grandchildren would get it," he sniffed with deadpan dismay.
The grassroots were beside themselves. God bless little Rocco and Jay. "Is there a canvasser among us who can't swing a household, or half a household?" asked the Taoiseach, urging them to stand firm on the doorsteps to win those vital extra votes.
"Stay there a bit longer. Try that bit harder. Convince them of what we stand for." Bertie was flying. The supporters in a frenzy. Then the music started and the handlers let loose the green and orange balloons, followed by ticker-tape, streamers and drifts of coloured glitter.
Bertie was covered in it, as was his running mate Cyprian Brady, who appears to have been surgically attached to his leader's shoulder. "Cyp Cyp Hooray!" sang Cyprian's team. Candidates danced behind the podium like half-wits, punching away balloons and elbowing each other aside to try get near Bertie, by now swallowed up in the crowd.
What a huge, huge difference from the opening weeks. It's just as well Enda Kenny didn't witness the scenes. Fianna Fáil at full throttle is an awesome sight.
They might remember that, when the voters see the triumphant scenes and begin to ponder the future.
Fine Gael was in equally buoyant mood yesterday, and Enda Kenny is still full of fight. He took to Dublin with a samba band and the capital's candidates, making their way from Grafton Street to Enda's final rally in Temple Bar.
The happy procession looked like a cross between a New Orleans funeral and a Hare Krishna recruitment drive. Enda and the younger candidates doing their best to march to the beat, some of the others, like Richard Bruton, looking decidedly mortified.
The merry band pitched up in Meeting House Square, buzzing with excitement and noisy optimism. Life-size cardboard cut-outs of Enda competed for space with Kenny posters. There were flags and T-shirts, inflatable "thunder sticks" and enough balloons to match Fianna Fáil in the razzmatazz stakes.
Director of elections Gay Mitchell, who seems to have forgotten he isn't running for election this time, got the ball rolling. Like the rest of his party colleagues, he is confident of a big Fine Gael resurgence in Dublin. "I haven't seen this since the days of Garret FitzGerald," he told the cheering crowd.
After the candidates were introduced, Kenny stepped forward, wrenched the microphone from its stand and moved to the front of the platform, for all the world like he was going to burst into song. Instead he delivered a high-decibel, old-style address, full of passion and promise of things to come.
He too urged the troops on to one last big push. Hearts are beginning to beat faster, he boomed. The adrenalin is rising, the anxiety is building in their stomachs. "And the sweat! The sweat!" shouted an ardent female campaigner from the ranks.
Enda bellowed with abandon until we feared our ears might bleed. He went down a storm with the troops. Like the Fianna Fáilers earlier in the day, they raced off to do battle. They have a hell of a fight on their hands.